Courting Darkness

by Robin LaFevers

  “If.” It is all I can do not to snarl. “Do you know how many men in positions of power have offered my family protection when we most desperately needed it?” Even as our mothers grew unaccountably ill, or fell down stairs, or had hunting accidents? “None. Not a single one came to our aid or offered us protection.” Even when my true father, Mortain, finally came, it was many years too late, and he was here so briefly that it feels like naught but a dream. A cruel dream that echoed all the cruel dreams that came before. Despair, as insistent as a jilted lover, pulls hard on my sleeve. “There is no reason to believe the king will do so.” Not with the regent whispering in his ear.

  Beast steps forward and wraps his enormous arms around me, as if he could reach back through time and spare me from my past. “Except you,” I amend. “You came.”

  “But not for you,” he whispers against my hair.

  No. For his sister. “Did you know that was when I fell in love with you? When I learned you had come back for Alyse. Besides,” I murmur against his chest, “when it mattered most of all, you did come for me.” The memory of it—​of that impossible escape—​causes a lump to rise in my throat. Would that such a daring rescue could save us all now. Afraid I will start leaking all over his be-damned shoulder, I push away and resume trying to piece together a strategy. “You did not see how annoyed the king was to be bothered with such things. How baffled he was that his queen had made such a decision without informing him.”

  “She made it long before she was queen.”

  “He did not give her a chance to explain that.”

  “Perhaps that is what she is explaining to him in private.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “I know the queen will argue on my behalf, but I don’t know that the king will listen. The regent has done all she can to erode any fragile trust that might grow between them. I am no longer certain he will support her simply to favor his new queen.” While the queen is a strong woman, she is not strong enough to grant me this most simple of boons. At least not yet.

  “Sybella.” Beast does not try to hug me again but instead takes my hand. “If you run, they will chase you. There is nothing you could do that would more incite the king’s interest and get his blood up.”

  He is right. The very fact of having to chase me will guarantee my guilt in his eyes. “I cannot sit here twiddling my thumbs while my sisters’ safety and futures hang in the balance. And Pierre’s men will come for them if the king decides in our favor. Either way, they are at great risk.” I retrieve my hand in order to resume my pacing.

  “So what do you always do when faced with a choice of running?”

  I stare at him a long moment. “I give Fortune’s wheel a spin and use it to launch a counterattack.”

  Beast folds his arms across his chest and leans back against the wall, waiting.

  My mind shuffles all the possibilities and options in front of me the way a trickster might shuffle cards. “We must send the girls away,” I finally decide. “I will not run, but the girls can. They’re never anywhere near the king, or even the regent. It will take days before anyone realizes they are gone.”

  “Will the king not call them in to ask their thoughts on the matter?”

  I laugh. “He does not care what they think or want. And if he does, we can simply say they have taken ill.”

  “But where will we send them? Surely such a journey is fraught with its own risk?”

  “That is the trick of it,” I agree. “Unless . . . unless we did not send them very far. Surely there is a convent somewhere nearby where they could request sanctuary.”

  “Would Pierre’s men honor sanctuary? I also fear it would be the first place they look.”

  Given my own history of escaping to a convent, there is a good chance he is right. And that is when the pieces of the answer fall into place. “Unless,” I tell him, “it is a convent they do not even know exists.”

  It takes him a moment to grasp my meaning. “You don’t mean the convent of Saint Mortain?”

  The wheels of my mind churn furiously. “It is perfect. It is far away from court. They will be surrounded by highly skilled assassins, reachable only by boat. Best of all, neither the French crown nor Pierre knows it exists. It is the best place to hide them.”

  Beast pulls at his chin, nodding slowly. “It is also a ten-day journey. Does that not present a new set of dangers?”

  “You can stop in Rennes. Ismae can help you—​maybe she will even want to accompany you to the convent.”

  He takes a deep breath and scrubs both his hands over his face. “I do not like it.”

  “If you, Aeva, Tola, and the queen’s guard accompany them—” Beast opens his mouth to argue, but I rush in. “Think! The only way they can hurt me is through my sisters. The best way—​the only way—​to protect me is to get them to safety. Besides, we may not have much choice.”

  I can see he knows the truth of what I am saying, but his eyes also glint with his absolute distate for the plan. “I am not going to leave you here alone to face d’Albret and the regent. And you cannot simply commandeer half the queen’s loyal attendants.” He is silent a long moment before he finally says, “I think we should consider marrying.”

  I gape at him. Marry?

  “As your husband, I can offer you some measure of protection. Not only physically, but legally.”

  My mind is a swirl of all the reasons I will not—​cannot—​ever marry, none of them having to do with Beast. Sensing that, he hastily retreats. “I can see by your silence it’s a poor idea. And I have little enough to offer you.”

  “No! It is not you, it is just that—”

  “Hush.” He steps forward and holds his fingers up to my lips. “You do not need to explain. I should never have suggested it except that there are many things that cannot be done to you or taken from you without your husband’s permission.”

  He is right. It would afford me certain protections. I would be his property instead of d’Albret’s, and d’Albret could no longer have any claim on me.

  But those same protections can also serve as a lifelong trap from which there is no escape. I’m not sure that I can ever let a man—​not even Beast—​have that sort of power over me again. “We would need the permission of the queen and perhaps even the king,” I tell him gently. “And we are already past the point when their protection would do the most good. Besides, while marriage might protect me, it would not help Charlotte or Louise.”

  His sense of frustration and impotence is so intense it borders on despair. “But know this. I love you. I will always love you, marriage or not. We are perfectly made for each other, you and I.”

  He reaches out to cup my face in his hands, his touch so gentle and cherishing, that it nearly makes me weep. “We are that, my fair assassin.”

  I savor that touch for one long moment before forcing myself to pull away. “I must go,” I tell him. “Hopefully the duchess will have news of the king’s meeting with the lawyer.” And then I hurry from the room before I truly begin to weep.

   Chapter 83

  hen I reach the queen’s chambers, she is waiting for me. She is not in bed but sits by the fire. All her other ladies have been dismissed.

  “Your Majesty.” I curtsy, and she motions me over. She is still fully dressed. “May I help prepare you for bed?”

  “Not just yet.” There is a chill in her voice that I have not heard before, not with me. She pulls her gaze from the fire, her eyes heavy and solemn. “Lady Sybella, is there something you wish to share with me?”

  My mind races over everything I have not told her. The dicing and dagger throwing at her wedding. The assassination attempt. The sneaking and spying on the king. My recent visit with Marguerite. “There are many things I could share, Your Majesty, but I am not certain they are things you truly wish to know.”

  Her eyes flash in a rare show of temper. “I think it best if you let me decide for myself.”

  I’m so stunned that it t
akes me a moment to find my voice. “Where would you like me to start? My past? The methods I have used to keep you informed here at the French court—”

  She holds out a hand to halt my words. “Start with Pierre’s visit to Rennes before we left for France. You can be certain his lawyer brought it up, and it was a great revelation to me.”

  I close my eyes. Merde. “Your Majesty—”

  “Please,” she says, her voice softening somewhat. “Sit down.”

  I give a faint shake of my head and grip the back of the chair instead. “Your Majesty, I told Captain Dunois when it happened, and it was he who suggested I not bother you with it. His reasoning was that he was going to double the guard, and that with the injuries Pierre and his men had sustained they would not be returning anytime soon. He did not see any reason . . .” My words become twisted, tangled. “He was thinking to protect me, Your Majesty. And I let him.”

  How can I explain to her the sharp, bitter thorns that sprang up around my heart that day? With so many seeing to her safety as my sisters huddled in their rooms, recovering from Pierre’s attack? I was blinded by my desire to hoard every crumb and scrap of protection I could for my sisters. I was glad I did not have to tell her and greedily accepted the gift Captain Dunois offered.

  “That sounds like the captain.” The loss she still feels seeps into her voice. “And is a far more satisfactory explanation than the one Pierre’s lawyer offered.” She shoots me a tart look. “However, it would have been nice to know about this so I did not appear an idiot in front of my lord husband and the officious lawyer.”

  “I am sorry, Your Majesty. I should have told you and asked to be released from your service. If I had known Pierre would parade our family’s soiled linens before the king and queen of France, I would have.” I curtsy and bow my head, hoping she will feel the fullness of my regret. “I am deeply sorry.”

  “Please rise, Lady Sybella! You have saved me untold miseries on so many fronts. I am not trying to shame you.” Her voice carries such firm assurance that it leaves no room for doubt.

  “Now, let me tell you what that vile lawyer claimed. And please, do sit down, for it strains my neck, looking up at you.”

  “But of course,” I say as I hurriedly take a seat.

  “Pierre’s story—​relayed by his lawyer—​is that he visited Rennes to appeal for custody of his sisters. In answer, I had him attacked and chased from the premises, not even granting him the opportunity for a hearing.” She raises one eyebrow. “The king was not amused, was appalled even, that I would act in so high-handed a manner toward one of his vassals. Needless to say, I could only profess my ignorance in the matter.”

  “Oh, Your Majesty! I am so very sorry.”

  “You’re not the one who lied, so need not apologize for that. However, I would greatly appreciate hearing the full story.”

  When I have finished telling her of Pierre’s attack in the garden, she leans back, her rosary forgotten as she stares into the fire, her brow creased in thought. After a few moments, she turns back to me. “We will simply tell them the truth.”

  I try to hide my skepticism. “I am not certain how that will help my case.”

  “Not the whole of it, but that Pierre and his men breached our walls without announcing themselves, killed one of my guards, and threatened those under our protection. I will also explain to the king that Captain Dunois took care of the matter so I would not need to be distracted from my wedding preparations.” She blinks, her eyes wide and innocent. “Is that not what a loyal commander is for? To see to such details so that I may contend with affairs of state?”

  I smile. “That should work nicely, Your Majesty.”

  “The king is a stickler for both the rule of law and those precedents that bequeath men their privilege.” A faint note of bitterness creeps into her voice. For all that she plays the doting young bride, she sees him clearly for who he is and where his politics lie. “He is much inclined to give your brother custody—​not just of your sisters, but of you as well—​for he believes, as all men do, that women cannot take care of themselves, nor make decisions over their own future.”

  “Only because they have made it impossible for us to do so by removing every avenue open to us except marriage, whoring, or the Church,” I murmur.

  “Furthermore, he feels it is not only Pierre’s right, but his duty. To not do his duty would make him a lesser man in the eyes of God.”

  I cannot help it—​I laugh. “As if any d’Albret ever cared how he looked in the eyes of God.”

  “From what I have seen, I would agree with you on that. One point to our advantage is that all of this is news to the king. If there is one thing he detests, it’s being rushed or bullied into a decision he did not come to on his own.”

  “You have learned much about his nature in the short time you have been together.”

  She makes a face. “Since it is clear I will have to fight for every scrap of power I wish to exercise, it seems wise to learn as much as I can about the man who holds the reins to that power. For now, he is inclined to think on it for a few days and weigh the options.”

  “While I am glad to hear it, I can’t help wondering what he is weighing them against. As you say, his own leaning is heavily in favor of Pierre’s claim.”

  She shifts in her chair. “Once the lawyer had been dismissed, I made my case. I explained that you had served me long and well, indeed, had saved my life on more than one occasion. In return for your service, I had vowed to foster your sisters. If he returns them to Pierre, he may salvage Pierre’s honor, but he will have stripped the queen of France of her honor. How will that reflect on the crown?”

  “Oh, well done, Your Majesty.”

  She smiles. “I thought so. However”—​her face sobers again—​“the regent claimed that you had lied to her and that this alone was cause for you to be removed from my circle.”

  “I cannot say that is unexpected. She has not liked me since I first butted heads with her at Châteaubriant. I am sorry I drew her ire in our direction.”

  The queen’s face grows flushed, her eyes fierce. “Do not apologize for that. If you hadn’t crossed swords with her that night, I fear I would have fallen apart with the shame and the humiliation of it. In fighting her, you reminded me that she could be fought. By mocking her insistence on such an archaic custom, you reminded me that it wasn’t a reflection of me personally.”

  The queen’s words touch something inside me, something deep and raw and yearning.

  “I promised your sisters my protection, Lady Sybella, and I intend to give it. I wish I could trust that the king will decide in your favor, or that he would trust my judgment in this, but he may not. I fear if I tell him of my own treatment at the hands of the d’Albret family, it would diminish me in his eyes. But know this. Whatever you need, whomever you need to keep your sisters safe, if it is mine, you may have it.”

  “Your Majesty . . .”

  “I mean it. The Arduinnites, Beast, even the queen’s guard, for they are not being allowed to serve their true purpose. Use any resource needed to protect your sisters. Now go. Be with them. I have others who can serve me.”

  My eyes burn at the enormous generosity of her offer. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” I say, around the huge lump of gratitude that has sprung up in my throat.

  * * *

  When I reach my chambers, the room is dark except for the banked fire. The Arduinnites are asleep on pallets on the floor. Aeva raises her head at my entrance, instantly on alert. “Everything is fine,” I whisper, then sit down to take off my shoes and remove my heavy skirt and bodice. Dressed only in my shift, I approach the bed and quietly draw back the curtain. Tephanie is asleep in the middle with Charlotte and Louise on either side of her. I slowly lift the covers and lower myself onto the mattress, careful not to jiggle the other sleepers.

  As I start to drift off to sleep, I become aware of a moth butting against the window. I frown, for there is no light to attract
a moth. Sleepiness forgotten, I raise my head off the pillow. There. Only it is not the feathery wings of a moth, but the beating of a heart.

  A heart beats right outside our window. My nerves strung taut, I reach for the knife I have slipped under the pillow, but the beating disappears. I wait one moment, then a second. It is gone, but I know that the Mouse has just successfully completed his first scouting mission.

   Chapter 84

  Genevieve

  n the end, when I reach Plessis-lès-Tours, I decide to stick as closely to the truth as possible. Dressed in finery I bought when we passed through Poitiers, I ride Gallopine up to the outer courtyard’s entrance. Whether because the guards recognize me or because I present no threat, they allow me to pass. I proceed to the second gate that protects the inner bailey. Old King Louis was so fearful of his person that he built as many layers of defense into the castle as possible.

  The guards at the second gate stop me and ask my business. I recognize neither of them. “I am Lady Genevieve, in service to the Countess of Angoulême.” They straighten and grow more circumspect. “I would speak with the seneschal, if I may.”

  This request gains me entrance, and I ride to the main courtyard in front of the palace doors. A groom steps forward to help me dismount as a page appears at my side to escort me up the stairs. When I step inside the main door, the seneschal is already hurrying to greet me. “Demoiselle Genevieve! I must confess I am surprised to see you. We had not received word of your visit.”

  I ignore the faint reproach in his voice. “I am sorry to hear my messenger did not reach you, but I am not surprised. The road was beset with many hazards. It was too much to hope that he would not fall prey to them.”

  The seneschal’s voice grows heavy with concern. “Hazards, my lady?” The man peers around me. “And what of your escort?”