She accepted her wine. Then after a moment she recited, very clearly:

And for the endlessly changeable lady of uncharted shallows,

Who has nothing but what she wants and only what she wants,

How could I not bestow an enchanted purse between her legs

(Blessed by holy Jad!)?

One that opens easily when she wishes it to,

For whomever she wishes, and when,

And for howsoever many times, and men,

Then seals itself magically shut again,

Against her wedding day?

Marina di Seressa laughed. “That is, I should tell you, widely recited by the women at court. One did so recently with…well, gestures. It was very amusing. You are hardly unknown, Thierry Villar. And not a few have said they’d wish for such a purse.”

Thierry felt himself flush. “It is a tavern verse, my lady. Not for the likes of—”

“Of well-bred women? You jest, sir! I have written to assert the freedoms women should have, and that includes a privilege not to be empty-headed. And that includes laughing at a genuinely funny image, however bawdy it might be. Do you disagree?” She sipped from her wine.

“I…would not dare,” Thierry said, and discovered that he meant it. “But I also did think I was presuming, in coming to visit, that you would not know me.”

“A clever man can become widely known, I think.”

“I had not known I was known,” he tried.

She wrinkled her nose. “Perhaps not your wittiest offering?”

“Perhaps not. Am I allowed to be surprised, and somewhat off my footing?”

She nodded, serious again suddenly. She was like that, he realized. “We are all off our footing today. Why are you here, Thierry Villar?”

And with that, a sudden awareness again of how much danger might lie before him in this room. Bracing and frightening. He had no idea where her allegiance lay. She was living here now, wasn’t she?

He said, carefully, “I had learned that you were in Orane, and in this palace. I wished to pay my respects. I did so now because I imagined the coming days might see you with tasks at court.”

He had prepared this with de Vaux. It was plausible. Best they could do. He took a small sip of the wine. It really was exceptional.

“For a funeral? And mourning rituals? Yes. I have no formal position, but the queen has asked for me, you’re right.”

The queen has asked for me.

And here he was, alone in a room with her. Still near enough to catch that scent.

She added, “Pay your respects, you say. And also request another poet’s assistance?”