After a long moment of weighing my options, I nod, and he releases my arm. we continue walking. “Do you think Isabeau will be safe?” I ask.
Beast scowls. “I cannot believe he would harm a poor, sick child.”
I can only hope he is right. Trying to see to Isabeau’s safety is yet one more thing that is at odds with my promise to Duval.
In the courtyard, a score of men-at-arms are mounted. Four horses wait beside them. Crunard is there but dressed in his robes of office rather than for travel. “The duchess was not comfortable leaving Isabeau on her own, and my age will only slow down your progress,” he explains, which is in itself suspicious, for he owes me no explanations. I cannot help but wonder what he gains by staying. No matter how I poke and prod the question, I can find no answer.
"We will miss your wisdom and counsel on the road, Chancellor Crunard,” I say sweetly. “I’m sure Isabeau will be glad of your company.”
“It will be poor comfort while her sister is gone. But it is some small way I can assist.”
Beast helps me mount my horse, then climbs into his own saddle. The duchess will ride perched in front of Captain Dunois, his thick, sturdy arms keeping her safe as he guides the horse.
As we ride out of the courtyard, I keep my face forward, afraid to look back at Crunard lest something in my expression gives me away. when I hear the gates of the city clang closed behind us, I finally dare to look over my shoulder. Crunard has climbed up on the ramparts to watch us depart. Across the distance, our eyes meet.
“Demoiselle? Are you all right?” I turn to find that Captain Dunois and the duchess have pulled up alongside my horse. The duchess’s eyes are upon me, such a deep liquid brown and so very young. I wonder how I can tell her that she and I have just left the two people we care most about with yet another traitor. Coward that I am, I cannot. I have no proof with which to convince them. And even if Dunois believed me, what action could he take? Since I do not know Crunard’s purpose, I cannot be sure he wouldn’t slaughter us while we stood arguing the issue. Besides, I am hemmed in by my promise to Duval: to get the duchess to safety. If I tell her of my suspicions, she will surely not leave Isabeau. “I am fine, Your Grace. Merely pondering what awaits us at the end of this journey.”
She wrinkles her brow. “Nothing pleasant, that is certain.”
“As you say, Your Grace.”
She looks inclined to linger and I feel something stir in my chest, some small bird of panic that threatens to take flight. I cannot keep up this masquerade all morning if she chooses to ride beside me.
Captain Dunois sends me a sympathetic glance and makes some excuse to ride ahead. As they draw away, Beast moves to my side and hovers there, as if he is afraid I might even now turn and gallop back to the palace. “Leave,” I tell him sharply. “I will not forget my promise.”
This seems to satisfy him. He turns and gallops to his place at the back of the party, and I am left alone.
Chapter Forty-nine
We are two days on the road, a somber, cheerless troop, each of us lost in misery — except perhaps for Beast, who wears a faint maniacal grin the entire time. when I ask him why, he says he is imagining what he will do when he gets his hands on those who have betrayed the duchess. For the first time, I glimpse the brutal, savage part of him that earned him the name Beast, and it is fearsome.
Every time I consider telling Captain Dunois of my suspicions regarding Crunard’s treachery, he is busy giving orders, seeing to the duchess’s safety, or consulting with his scouts. There is no moment in which he is not rushed and pressed for time, no moment for him to quietly hear my arguments and give me a chance to convince him, so I keep silent.
Late in the afternoon of the second day, we reach the village of Paquelaie. These winter days are short, and we make it to the village just as darkness overtakes us. Dunois leads us to a stone hunting lodge that had belonged to the late duke, stopping only long enough to dispatch a spare soldier to fetch a village woman to cook for us.
Even though we are a small party, it takes a fair while to get all the soldiers quartered and the duchess comfortable in her rooms. As I am the only other woman in the party, I find myself attending upon her.
She is tired and pale, not being used to riding for so hard or so long, but her face has a determined set to it. There are no servants, so Dunois assigns the solders to bring hot water up to her room.