The fixed stare he gave the prince was decidedly icy. Is it that he doesn’t want me in his chapel, Hauberin wondered. Or doesn’t he approve of me being alone with his wife? The baroness seemed not to notice any coldness on her husband’s part. Greeting him with a charming smile, she took his arm and turned to go, without so much as a glance back at Hauberin. After a heartbeat’s resistance, Baron Gilbert yielded and let her lead him away. As they left, unaware of the keenness of Faerie hearing, Hauberin caught first the baron’s baritone grumble, then his wife’s indignant: “In a chapel? Credit me with better judgment than that! No, my lord husband, nothing untoward happened in there, I swear it by my faith. Our guest was curious about our ways, that’s all.” “I noticed he wasn’t curious enough to attend Mass.” “Ah. Well. I . . . don’t think he’s exactly of our beliefs.” “A pagan?” the baron blurted. “No, I don’t think so. What he is, though . . .” Is a good deal stranger than pagan, the prince finished wryly.
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