“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, five 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.