I gape openmouthed as I look back down at the body, then at the space above it. The soul is truly gone. Was that gift always available to me? Or is it something new caused by the shift in the Nine?
I look down at my own finger, a small drop of blood brilliant against my white skin. A sense of lightness fills me. Like that soul, I almost feel as if I could rise up into the air.
Even with the passing of Mortain, I might still contain mysteries I have not yet discovered.
?Chapter 17
y the time I get back to the palace, dusk has fallen. Torches are lit along the wall, their flames stretched thin, sparks fluttering in the strong wind.
The courtyard holds easily twice as many of Rohan’s men as when I left earlier. Disappointed that Beast is not there waiting for me, I snag a page hurrying from one of the outbuildings and tell him to fetch Beast from the garrison. The boy tries not to let his annoyance show—I have probably just delayed his dinner—but bows smartly and does as instructed.
Surely Beast is back by now, and I am anxious to hear what happened. I must also let him know what has transpired here this afternoon. We will need to assign double watches on the lesser used gates as well as arrange for a proper burial for the fallen sentry. This has been an important reminder that not all our enemies became allies when we signed the betrothal agreement with France.
While I linger in the shadows waiting for Beast, I listen for any whispers of why Rohan and his men are in Rennes. There is talk of horses, complaints about the crowded quarters, and assurances that Rohan will put all this to rights soon enough. My ears perk up at that, and I take a step closer, only to have the page call out to me.
My pleasure at how quickly he has returned turns to dismay when I see he has brought not Beast, but Captain Lannion. “My lady.” Captain Lannion bows. “How can I be of help?”
“Beast is not back yet?” He has been gone more than four hours. It should not be taking this long.
“No, my lady. Is there something I can do for you?” His voice holds a faint note of concern.
Captain Lannion and I have traveled together, camped and fought together, but I am not ready to share my concerns with him. “Thank you, but no.” After one last polite bow, he returns to the garrison.
My mind is as unsettled as a harried fox. Pierre did not have that great a head start. And two of his men were mortally injured. Beast should have been back by the time the council meeting was over, though clearly there were scores more of Rohan’s men just outside the gates that he had to search among and wade through.
Or Pierre himself could have had more men waiting outside. Of course he did—he never travels with less than half a dozen retainers, and often ten times that. True fear runs along my skin, drawing it taut. Have I sent Beast straight into a trap?
No. I clench my hands into fists, then open them again. No.
Pierre would not travel with that many men, not on this sort of mission. And Beast is not called Beast for nothing. When he was but fifteen years old, he rode into a d’Albret stronghold to ascertain the safety of his sister, Louise’s mother. He did not see her, but was met by twelve of d’Albret’s men-at-arms. He walked away—leaving eight dead and four to limp back to explain their defeat to their enraged liege. The battle lust Saint Camulos gifted him with served him well that day, and it will serve him again. Pierre’s men are no match for it.
Besides, I remember how insulted I was by Ismae and Duval’s fussing and clucking over me. I’ll not insult Beast by doing the same to him.
But Sweet Jesu, this loving someone is hard. Might as well rip a piece of one’s heart from one’s chest and feed it to wild pigs.
* * *
By the time I reach Captain Dunois’s office, my shoulders are so stiff that my entire back aches. It is bad enough that Beast is not back yet, but now I must admit that I lied to Captain Dunois. And tell him of Pierre’s visit, flaunting my family’s sordid history.
I remind myself that Captain Dunois already knows my family’s history. He knows of the treacheries and deceits they have perpetuated in the past. He did not hold me responsible then, and he will not hold me responsible now.
But who is to say he should not?
Pierre’s visit today was an ugly personal matter. One that should never have come so close to the duchess or cost her any of her men. It should not truly have even concerned Beast, except that he stuck his big lumpen nose into my affairs months ago and has refused to budge from my side.
As I raise my hand to knock on the captain’s door, the knowledge that I am the one responsible for bringing this mess to the duchess’s door writhes in my gut like small white grubs in newly turned earth. I try to use my anger at Pierre to erect a shield between me and these unwelcome truths, but the anger is no match for the carefully honed edge of my self-loathing.
“Come in,” the captain calls out.
When I enter, he looks up from the letter he is penning, his face creasing in concern. “My lady, are you all right?”
“Yes, my lord.”
His frown deepens. “Do you have news of Beast?”
“Yes. And no.”
“Go on.” Although he hides it well, there is a faint note of unease in his voice.
For a moment, the enormity of what I must tell him overwhelms me.
The truth. As simply as possible. With no nooks or crannies for me to hide in. “The story has two parts.”
Dunois sets his quill on the desk and gives me his full attention. Because I wish to rush and get it over with, I force myself to utter the words calmly. “There has been an incident.”
Captain Dunois waits as patiently as a mountain, and I think of all the soldiers who must have confessed to him over the years. My hands clench the back of the chair in front of me. “My brother Pierre paid a visit today. He came upon me and my sisters in the garden.”
Dunois rises so quickly that the force of it shoves his chair back. “Your brother was here? How in God’s name did he get past the guards?”
“He and two of his men dressed in Viscount Rohan’s colors.”
“And so had free access to the palace grounds.” His eyes narrow. “But you are all unharmed?”
“Yes.”
He studies me carefully. “Are you certain?”
“I am fine.”
“Perhaps,” he concedes. “But you are also shaking.”
I let go of the chair and wrap my arms around my middle. “It was cold outside, and my search for Pierre’s means of entry took a while. That is the second part of the story. One of the guards had been murdered.”
Dunois runs his hands over his close cropped hair. “Where?”
“At the south gate. We should send someone for his body as well as arrange a double watch on both the south and east towers.”
Captain Dunois reaches for his sword. “Agreed. We should also double the guard on you and your sisters.”
Of all the responses I was anticipating, concern for my family’s safety was not one of them. “That brings us to the third part of the story.”