“It cannot be a coincidence that just as we arrive in France, ready to take up residence in a court we know nearly nothing about, our most knowledgeable advisor, the one who has known every French nobleman and taken their measure over the last four decades, is struck dead. That the brilliant tactician who was responsible for chiseling this path to victory for the duchess has been silenced from ever giving her council again.” Not to mention the one man who could point out Beast’s father to him will never be able to do so now.
If that is a coincidence, then surely the gods are more enemy to us than the French.
* * *
When we emerge from the chapel, a servant waiting nearby escorts us to a private dining room where the rest of the duchess’s party are having a small supper. Chancellor Montauban, the Prince of Orange, former marshal Rieux, Father Effram, and the Bishop of Rennes sit around the table, the remains of a meal still spread out before them. As we enter the room, there is a pause—a moment too long—before they call out a welcome. That is when I become aware that they have all been scrubbed clean while Beast and I are still in our bloodstained travel clothes. “Take a seat. Eat something,” Chancellor Montauban says. “We are just arguing over the ambush and who might be behind it.”
As I slip into the chair that Beast holds out for me, I feel the silent stares of the others on me like fleeting darts. Father Effram gets up from the table, crossing to the ewer on the sideboard. Pulling a cloth from some hidden pocket, he dips it in the water.
“You do not think it Emperor Maximilian?” Beast asks as he takes the seat next to me.
The chancellor rubs his haggard face with his hand. “He is the most logical explanation. They were German soldiers.”
“They were mercenaries.” The Prince of Orange is barely able to keep a rein on his temper. “German mercenaries are for sale on every road crossing and street corner. It does not tell us who paid them.”
Father Effram returns to the table and slides back into his seat, handing the dampened cloth to me. Puzzled, I reach out to take it from him.
He motions to my left cheek. Understanding dawns, and I lift the cloth to my face, wiping at my cheek. I glance down at the white cloth, now covered with a smear of dark rust-colored blood.
“They could also have been German soldiers masquerading as mercenaries,” Beast counters. “Just because they were not wearing the Habsburg coat of arms and colors does not mean they were not sent by the emperor. It makes sense he would want to hide his part in the abduction for as long as possible, especially given his daughter’s precarious position.”
I carefully fold the cloth, closing my hand around it. When I look up, both Jean and Chancellor Montauban look away.
“Which is precisely why I do not believe he was behind it,” the prince continues. “He has too much at risk with Princess Marguerite still in the custody of the king.”
“But the king would not hurt her.” As the bishop speaks, he runs his fingers nervously over his rosary beads. “Everything I have ever heard or seen indicates that he is genuinely fond of the girl.”
“Then who?” Jean adds his braying voice to the mix. “Who else has anything to gain by abducting the duchess?”
“England?” the Prince of Orange offers.
“That is absurd,” scoffs Jean. “You are simply trying to deflect the blame from the emperor.”
The prince narrows his eyes dangerously. “Are you questioning my loyalty?”
Rieux thrusts his head forward to argue further, but the bishop interrupts before they can come to blows. “But to what end?” he asks.
The prince shrugs. “To prevent the marriage.”
“But at the cost of war with France?” the bishop asks. “Surely England knew that would be the final result of such an abduction.”
The prince reaches for the stem of his goblet. “They have long been looking for an excuse to press their piteous claim to the French throne. Perhaps they see this as an opportunity.” He takes a sip of wine. “A better question might be what did the emperor hope to gain?”
His brow furrowed in deep thought, Beast leans forward and plants his elbows on the table, causing the plates and silverware to jiggle slightly. “Did the emperor hope to rescue his wife, or . . .” His next words come more slowly. “To give the accusations he’s been making against France the appearance of truth?”
Montauban, too, leans forward. “You mean his accusations that the duchess had been abducted in an effort to delegitimize the union?”
Beast nods, and everyone falls silent.
“So you see.” Rieux’s voice is smug. “All roads appear to lead to the emperor.”
I delicately clear my throat. “I may be able to shed some additional light on the situation, or else muddy the waters beyond all comprehension.”
Reluctantly, their gazes turn toward me. That is when I understand that I make them uncomfortable now. They have always known I was an assassin—and accepted it. Or so they thought. But now that I sit here with our enemies’ blood splattered on my gown, now that they have seen me kill with their own eyes, they feel differently. Knowing something and seeing it are very different things.
Doing his best to hide . . . not revulsion, but something akin to it, the chancellor leans back in his chair. “By all means, my lady, we would love to hear it.”
“One of the last things Captain Dunois said to me was that we should look to the castle.”
The bishop regards me as if I am trying to tempt him to evil. The prince is intrigued, but wary, and the former marshal aggrieved. “Did he not simply mean to look to the castle at Angers for refuge from the attackers?”
So much for our bond of mutual trust and respect. Clearly that was only something they were willing to extend to Lady Sybella, not the Sybella who excels in the art of death. “He could have, yes. But do you not find it interesting that we keep crossing paths with the regent? She could not have gotten much of an earlier start than we did. Why not simply travel with us?”
“With a smaller group, she could travel more quickly.”
I ignore the chancellor’s feeble explanation. “And what of the soldiers she provided? Only one or two of them survived. Did she just happen to leave us France’s most poorly trained soldiers, or was that by some design? And Rohan’s appointment as governor still bothers me.”
Father Effram nods and spreads his hands wide. “What if they are playing a game within a game? As was said before, the king is very fond of Marguerite. Some have even claimed that he loves her. If the duchess were to disappear, Marguerite’s original betrothal agreement would still stand. The king would be free to marry the princess and have Brittany by right of conquest.”
“Only if he assumes the next in line will not retaliate,” the Prince of Orange mutters.
“He knows the next in line cannot raise any more troops,” Beast says quietly, and the prince falls silent.