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spoke. He simply strummed his lute quietly, his soothing music underlying our talk.
    Eleanor did not heed him, so I did not. In this, as in all things, I took my cue from her.
    “Do you like your gown?” Eleanor asked.
    Of their own accord, my hands moved down to the skirt of my dress, to the smooth emerald silk. I ran my fingers over its softness. “It is the most beautiful dress I have ever worn,” I said.
    “It is my favorite.”
    I had been fitted for my own gowns in my room, before Eleanor called me to sit among her ladies. The seamstress had assured me that I would have at least one of my new dresses the next day, though how any woman could work so fast, I could not comprehend.
    “You will have your own tomorrow. For now, you will have to make do with mine.”
    “It is my honor, Eleanor.”
    The troubadour, whom I had almost forgotten, stopped strumming in midnote, and the silence held for a full beat before he resumed his music once more. Later I learned that he was shocked into silence; no one else used her given name, save perhaps the king.
    “My father chose my name, you know,” was all she said. “In the langue d‘oc, it is Aliénor, The only name I ever heard spoken before I moved to Paris.”
    “Before you married my father,” I said.
    “Yes. Louis could not say ‘Aliénor,’ so ‘Eleanor’ it has been ever since.”
    “I am sorry.”
    “You will find, little princess, that with marriage a woman often loses more than just her name. You would do well to heed it.”
    “Richard would take nothing from me,” I said.
    Eleanor’s eyes sharpened, and her gaze held mine. “Richard is a good man, but always remember that he is a man. You like him, do you?”
    “I am honored to marry so fine a prince.”
    She must have seen something in my eyes, or heard the joy in my voice, for her face softened. She loved him well. “I am glad that you are matched,” she said. “You will make beautiful children.”
    “I hope to give him many sons,” I said, my eyes cast down.
    Eleanor raised my chin so that I was forced to meet her gaze. I remembered that though it was proper for a nun to keep her eyes on the ground, a princess must face the world. Eleanor had taught me that. I would not shrink from her again.
    It seemed that she would speak of Richard, and our many sons, but instead she said, “You are a brave girl. I am proud of you.”
    Her unexpected praise warmed me more than mulled wine. My heart swelled with my next breath, but I did not weep. Eleanor had taught me that, too.
    “Shall we have another song before we go down to dinner?” she asked.
    “I would sing one for you,” I said.
    Eleanor’s eyes widened. “Such talent, little princess. How is it that I did not know of it?”
    “It is a small gift, but I would give it to you.”
    “You must never hide your talents, Alais. Only your failings.”
    I smiled wryly, my eyes sparkling. “But, my lady queen, I have none.”
    Eleanor laughed at that, as I had meant her to. I sang for her a sweet song my nurse had taught me at home in Paris, before I was sent away.
    The queen then honored me by taking me down to the great hall herself, her hand on my arm. All the court bowed to us as we passed, and parted before us as we strode to the dais, where the high table stood. Richard sat at the head of the table already. He stood when he saw us, and bowed as the others did.
    I ignored the people below the dais, but to Richard, I offered a curtsy.
    “Welcome, Mother. Princess Alais.”
    His voice thickened a little when he spoke my name. I met his eyes, and saw warmth in their blue depths as well as his honor for me.
    “Good evening, Richard.” Eleanor raised her cheek for his kiss. “It is good to have my son here before me, to welcome me to my own table.”
    “It is good to sit with you once more, Mother. There is no gracious spot in England unless you are there.”
    Eleanor laughed and leaned close to me. “You see, Alais, he will charm you