Courting Darkness

by Robin LaFevers

  Aeva peers at me. “Are you all right? I will find them all. You needn’t worry.”

  I stare at the other woman. Should I tell her of the assassination attempt and this newest discovery?

  I know it is the smart thing to do. She could easily be a target as well—​simply for being with me. That is what finally forces me to tell her.

  When I have finished, she grimly shakes her head. “I cannot decide if trouble seeks you out or you merely attract it to yourself as the moon attracts a moth.”

  “I do not seek it out,” I protest. But she has already ridden ahead.

  She finds two more traps and one snare before we finally clear the forest. I do not bother to thank her, as my openmouthed awe at her skill is gift enough for her.

  * * *

  When we reach the princess’s castle, Aeva waits in the nearby trees as I silently make my way to the palace walls. Marguerite’s bedchamber is likely near the solar—​the room placed to receive the most sunlight and therefore having the largest window. I find that large window, with a smaller one on either side of it. I pick the right side, as it is in a corner with a chimney and the most promising spot, then quickly begin scaling the wall.

  When I reach the window, I slip my knife in between the two panels of glass, gently lift the latch, and push one of the panes open, praying it will not squeak.

  It does not.

  Inside the room, four figures sleep in cots set up on the floor near the fire, while a large canopied bed occupies the opposite wall.

  I inch my way to the bed, then slowly pull back the curtains.

  A young girl sits there, wide awake. “Are you here to rescue me or assassinate me?”

  Her question causes the fine hairs along the back of my neck to stir. “Why would you think someone has been sent to assassinate you?”

  She wraps her arms around her knees. “I do not know what to think anymore. Everything I’ve been promised has been swept aside by politics. What I once thought was certain and safe holds nothing but doubt.”

  “I am acquainted with that feeling,” I mutter.

  “I no longer trust any promises that have been made, not even those regarding my personal safety.”

  For all that she is an indulged, pampered princess, she is not lacking in wits. “You’re wise not to trust anyone, but I am not here to kill you. I wished only to see you with my own eyes and ascertain whether you were safe.”

  Intrigued, she scoots herself to sit up against her pillow. “Who are you?”

  “I am no enemy, that I promise. I am merely trying to untangle an ugly knot of truth and lies.”

  “It’s too bad you wear that hood so I cannot better determine your sincerity.”

  “It is too bad,” I agree. “But I cannot risk being recognized later.”

  She puts her finger to her chin and studies me. “Have you been sent to rescue me? I must admit, I was expecting a troop of mounted knights with my father at their head, but you will do.”

  It is all I can do to keep from smiling. “Do you need rescuing?”

  She makes a delicate sound that in anyone else I would call a snort. “It has been well over a month since my betrothal was cast aside like day-old bread. I do not want to molder away in this castle forever.”

  “Has the king or regent indicated they have planned such a thing for you?”

  “The king? No.”

  “But the regent has?”

  She shrugs. “I have not spoken to her since she bid me goodbye nearly two months ago. She has not shared her plans with me.”

  And there is one of the answers I came looking for. “But you have spoken to the king?”

  She settles back against the head of her bed, making herself comfortable. “Yes. He feels guilty. Not just for breaking our betrothal agreement,” she explains. “But for his claims of love and devotion that have turned out to be as meaningful as dust.”

  It would be easier to feel sorry for her if she wasn’t so clearly sharp and full of wit. I am not sure that she hasn’t received the better end of that bargain. Even so, I am sorry for the pain that Arduinna’s arrow caused her, for all that it must be weighed against the cost of war. “Do you find it odd that the regent has not been to see you?”

  She purses her mouth, thinking. “She has always treated me with great affection. A daughter could not have asked for a better mother. But now, now I do not know.” It is the first time I hear a note of true loss and confusion in her voice. She feels more betrayed by the regent than the king, I think.

  “The regent has always been a complex woman.” I turn and look at the princess’s attendants, sleeping on their cots. “Did you know she often bribes the closest associates of her enemies? How long have your ladies in waiting been with you?”

  “Why? Do you think one of them could be spying for the regent?”

  “It is possible.” But that is not my reason for the question.

  She turns her gaze toward the sleeping women. “Two of them came with me from Austria, and two I chose myself from among the regent’s ladies.”

  My heart quickens at that possibility. “Why did you pick them?”

  “One lacked the power of speech or the ability to write. The regent used her lessons with the younger women to shame her, and I thought it poorly done.”

  My admiration for her grows.

  “The second one found the constrictions the regent placed upon her to be too confining. Not that she was ever improper,” the princess hurries to add. “She was simply too full of life for someone as dour as the regent.” After a moment of silence, she adds. “Another girl, Margot, was the same way.”

  Everything inside me grows still. When I speak, I am careful that my voice does not change. “Margot? Is she still with the regent?”

  “No, she and Genevieve were sent with Louise when she married. Although I must confess, I feel sorry for them because Louise is every bit as serious and pious as the regent.”

  “Where was Pious Louise sent?” I ask.

  “She married Count Angoulême and now resides in Cognac.”

  Cognac. Over a hundred miles away. My limbs grow heavy with disappointment. That is it, then. They are both too far away to be of any help.

  “So,” Marguerite continues, “while it is possible the regent could have one of my ladies spying for her, I don’t believe she does. Besides, I have no secrets from her. Well,” she amends. “Except you. You are my first secret.” She hugs her knees. “A most delicious one.”

  “Thank you for all that you have shared. You owed me none of these explanations.”

  She looks up at me, and for all of her intelligence and wit, I am struck by how young she is. “With all that has happened in the last weeks, not one person has asked me what I think or what my opinion on the matter was. You are the first to ask.”

  A slow familiar anger fills me. A young woman to be plucked or snatched or tucked away at anyone’s whim. “Well, Princess, I am most grateful for all that you have shared. And while I can make no promises, if I am ever in a position to help in any way, I will do my utmost to see that I can.”

  Now she is the one to look surprised. “Thank you, but why would you do that?”

  “Because you are not a plum,” I whisper. While she is still gaping at my answer, I take my leave.

   Chapter 73

  Genevieve

  n the dark, it is hard to make out anything except that there are five of them. And they are large and well armed. My sword lies on the floor next to me, but I do not reach for it. Not yet.

  The tallest one speaks first. “You owe us three lives.” His words are shaped by the same Burgundy accent as the men we killed.

  “We owe you nothing.” Maraud’s voice is hard as flint. “We defended ourselves against an attack.”

  “We got here first. You trespassed on our shelter for the night.”

  “But when we arrived,” I point out, “the whole town was empty.”

  After a moment of astonished silence, f
ive heads turn to stare at me. “You are a woman!”

  “Who killed two of your men,” Maraud reminds them. “So do not underestimate her.”

  “As we searched the village,” I continue, “you made no move to show yourselves or stake your claim. How were we to know?”

  The man shifts. In the dark, he is impossible to read. “We could not risk showing ourselves until we knew your purpose here.”

  Maraud scoffs. “Purpose? We wanted shelter for the night. What other purpose would we have? And as I told your other men, there were plenty of cottages for all of us. They chose to attack instead. You cannot fault us for defending ourselves.”

  “No, but you did not have to be so very good at it,” a man in the back complains. “There were three of them.”

  “Next time send better men if you want to win.”

  A new voice speaks up, trying to smooth over the growing animosity between Maraud and the other man. His voice is young, his words shaped differently. English, I think. “Those men carried a huge weight on their shoulders. They could not risk divulging their purpose to you.”

  “They did not have to divulge anything. They simply needed to leave us alone.”

  One of the men in the back growls. “Watch your manners around his lordship. You are in no position to demand answers from him.”

  “Gentlemen,” I interrupt. “Surely fighting over shelter in an entire village full of empty houses is a waste of everyone’s time and energy.”

  Maraud frowns. “Unless you are the reason it is empty in the first place.”

  I can feel rather than see the other man’s scowl. “It was deserted when we first came upon it.”

  “Then why are we fighting to the death over it?”

  Silence follows and the men exchange glances. “We have only your word that you simply seek shelter.” His voice is less certain than it was before.

  “What else would we be doing in this godsforsaken place?”

  The tall man’s chest thrusts out like a rooster’s. “Following us. Noting our movements and reporting back to others.”

  “His lordship” steps forward to place a restraining hand on the taller man’s arm. “Perhaps some explanation is in order.”

  “Perhaps,” Maraud agrees.

  “Tomas, go stoke up the fire so we may have some light. I think everyone would be more at ease if we could see each other.”

  One of the men steps over us to the hearth and kneels down. Moments later, flames spring to life, casting a bit more light into the room. “Are there candles?” his lordship asks.

  “None that we could find,” I tell him. He nods to the man on his left, who slips outside, then quickly returns with two torches, and dips them into the fire.

  With enough light to see by, I experience a hard jolt of surprise. I recognize his lordship from my brush with the souls of the men we killed. “This is Jorn,” he says, indicating the one acting like an angered cockerel. He is shaped like a barrel and sports a bushy beard. “On his right is Crespin, and to his left is Brion. And you know Tomas over there by the fire.”

  Maraud pulls his knees up and rests his arms on them. “I am Maraud. She is Lucinda.”

  The man eyes me curiously, still discomfited that I am a woman. He is younger than the others, and dressed more finely, wearing English boots and a Burgundian cape. The other four are taller and broader, clearly the muscle of whatever operation this is.

  “Now,” his lordship rubs his hands as if warming them. “Let us start at the beginning. We are on a mission of critical importance. A mission many wish to keep us from. When so many are after us, it is easy enough to presume everyone is. Safer, as well.”

  Maraud scoots back far enough to lean against the wall. Not for warmth, I think, but so he cannot be surrounded. “You will be relieved to know that neither of us has any idea who you are or where you are going.” I think of Valine and Jaspar’s talk at Ransle and realize that is not completely true. I have a suspicion.

  Jorn shrugs. “We have only your word on that.”

  “So you’ll run us through right now just in case we might tell someone something that we don’t even know?” I try to catch Maraud’s eye, uncertain what his strategy is here.

  “Forgive Jorn,” the leader says. “He has served my family a long time and his loyalty often overtakes him.”

  Jorn speaks again, his gaze never wavering. “I think instead of running you through, we shall take you with us. You have cost us men. We need to replace them. That is how you can repay us for their deaths.”

  Two of the others exchange a glance, and Maraud laughs outright, which while satisfying, seems unwise. “You would force us to travel with you in the hopes that we would fight for you? What makes you think that we will not simply turn our swords against you instead?”

  Jorn takes a menacing step forward, looming over us. “Because we outnumber you more than two to one.”

  “Perhaps we should say ‘persuade,’ rather than force,” his lordship murmurs.

  “Ah, now. Persuasion is something I well understand,” Maraud says. “I am a mercenary and not so very hard to persuade. As long as the price is right.”

  “We must get to Brittany as soon as possible.” Jorn’s words are stiff, as if it pains him to give even that much of an explanation. “My lord has a ship to catch.”

  “Oho!” Maraud’s voice is so full of glee that even I believe he is happy to hear this. “Now we are talking. That is where I am from. Where in Brittany?”

  Jorn crosses his arms. “Why do you want to know?”

  “Because I have traveled between here and there more times than I can count. If you wish to avoid other travelers, I can direct you to the least-used roads.” He could not have dangled sweeter bait.

  Jorn’s eyes sharpen with interest. “Do you know how far it is to the coast at Nantes?”

  Maraud tilts his head. “Four days’ hard ride with good weather and no washed-out roads. Five or six if you run into bad weather or a big storm.”

  “Or more soldiers,” Tomas mutters.

  “Or more soldiers,” Maraud agrees. “Why do you think soldiers are following you?”

  This time when his lordship speaks, there is an unmistakable hauteur in his voice. “I am a person of some importance—​Richard of Shrewsbury.” He pauses, waiting for some response from us, but his name means nothing. At least to me.

  Or Maraud. “And I am very pleased to meet you, Richard of Shrewsbury, but I’ll need more than that if you’re expecting me to go eight days out of my way to help you.”

  “I thought you said you were from Brittany?”

  “I did, and I am, but I am here in France for reasons other than your convenience.”

  Shrewsbury rises up on his toes slightly. “I am the rightful claimant to the throne of England.”

  My mouth gapes open, as does Maraud’s, though he recovers first. “I believe Henry the Seventh sits comfortably on that throne.”

  “But it is not his,” Shrewsbury says vehemently. He begins pacing. “You have heard the story of the princes in the Tower, yes? How their evil uncle Richard had both of them put to death so they could not claim the throne?”

  We nod.

  “Well, they were successful in murdering my brother, Edward, but a loyal guard smuggled me out of the tower before they could kill me. I am on my way to Ireland to meet with those who would support my bid for the crown.”

  After a few moments of stunned silence, I finally speak. “My lord, we both wish you well in your endeavor, and we are truly sorry for the misunderstanding with your men over the cottage. But we have urgent business of our own—​matters that affect a number of lives—​and cannot be turned from our course.”

  “You said you were mercenaries. We could hire you. Not only for your knowledge of the roads, but because you are good in a fight.”

  “That is a tempting offer,” Maraud concedes. “But we have pressing business of our own.” When Jorn puts his hand back on his sword, Mara
ud continues. “However, since our road goes in the same direction for the next two days, we could travel together for greater safety and discuss it further.”

  Shrewsbury looks at Jorn, who nods. “We’d like that very much. Now we will all get some much-needed rest before resuming our travels tomorrow. Tomas will take the first watch. You have my word you will not be harmed tonight.”

  “Yes, that will allow us to sleep well,” Maraud grumbles.

   Chapter 74

  Sybella

  n the way home, my disappointment draws around me like a shroud. They are gone. There is no one from the convent to help us.

  There is no one to give us insight into the regent or the king. We are on our own. That was always a possibility. The truth is, I allowed myself to believe I would find them because I wanted to. It was a weakness. An indulgence. Like telling Louise she is perfectly safe, when she lives in a world that is not.

  Merde.

  Not only have I lost hope of finding help at court, but I’ve learned that whoever wishes me dead has more allies there than I do.

  * * *

  We are just leaving the stable after tending to the horses when Beast steps out of the shadows. “Where have you been?” The only reason I do not jump is that I felt his heartbeat while we were still rubbing down the horses. Aeva does not so much as twitch in surprise. She must have nerves of iron.

  “I went to pay Princess Marguerite a visit.”

  “You did what?”

  “You see? That look right there? That is precisely why I did not tell you.”

  His eyes flame blue before he closes them and takes a deep breath. When he opens them again, he appears more in control. “Sybella. How can I keep you safe if you will not even tell me where you are going?”

  Aeva keeps walking, pausing only long enough to reach out and pat Beast’s cheek. “Don’t worry, Angry One. I insisted on going with her, and she was perfectly safe.”