“Ah, you are still alive. I thought as much. It was the only explanation that made sense.”
Careful to stay well out of sight, I press my back against the stone wall, heart hammering in my chest as the chancellor’s cold, hard voice fills my ears.
“Come in, come in, don’t hover at the door.” At first I think he is talking to me, then I see Duval move away from the tunnel and step into the room. “Besides, you and I have a game of chess we must finish,” he says coyly, and that’s when I know.
I know precisely where Duval picked up Arduinna’s snare. I want to bang my head against the wall in frustration.
“Is that what we have been doing, Crunard? Playing a game of chess? If so, I will confess that I did not realize it was you I was playing against, not until Ismae voiced her suspicions.” Duval sounds strong and steady, and I do not know if this is because he has fully recovered or because he is simply determined not to show weakness in front of Crunard.
“The girl figured it out before you, did she? That must sting, but the convent is not known for raising fools.”
“She also did not have a lifetime of memories and family loyalties to cloud her vision. I defended you against her accusations.” Duval’s voice shakes now, but with the pain of Crunard’s duplicity rather than weakness. “I told her that one of our country’s greatest heroes and my father’s closest ally would never betray my sister in such a way.”
Crunard says nothing for a long moment. when he speaks, his voice is so quiet I must inch closer in order to catch every word.
“Four sons, Gavriel. I have lost four sons to this never-ending war with the French. And for what? So they can turn around and invade our borders once again? In the end, do you really think it matters to the people who rules over them? Do you really think maintaining Brittany’s independence is more important to their lives and prosperity than ending the constant war?”
“How can you ignore everything we’ve fought for for the last twenty years? How can you dishonor your own sons’ memories this way?”
“You may not speak to me of my sons,” Crunard says, his voice tight with fury. “Not when you have lived and they have died.” He grows quiet, and when he speaks again, he is calmer. “I do not expect you to understand how hard it is to watch your own sons die, struck down in battle for a cause that pales when it is set next to what you have lost. even more, I do not expect you to understand what it is like to learn that one of those sons still lives — ”
“Anton?” There is joy in Duval’s voice, and I remember that the chancellor’s youngest son and Duval were of an age. They were likely friends.
“Anton,” Crunard says. “I saw him struck down on the battlefield of Saint-Aubin-du-Cormier. So you cannot begin to imagine my joy when I received word that he still lived. All I had to do was deliver Anne into the hands of the French regent — something that was clearly inevitable — and my son would be returned to me.”
Suddenly everything is clear. every move Crunard has made, every person he has betrayed — all of it was done in the hope of ransoming his son.
“So you thought to trade my sister’s life for your son’s?”
“It seemed a fair exchange, since if it weren’t for the blood of my sons spilled on the battlefield, none of this would be hers. Besides, I wasn’t trading her life, merely her duchy. They are quite different things.
“At first it was easy. I worked quietly behind the scenes, gently bending the tides of war to France’s favor without harming a soul, and then you stepped in. You and your damned strategies and tactics and pigheaded stubbornness. If you had been content to let things happen, none of this would have come to pass. But you were not. You were determined to single-handedly deliver an independent duchy to your sister along with the means to keep it. You can be certain I did not value your life above my son’s, so you gave me no choice but to remove you. Now, sit down so we may finish this game.”
“Do you always play chess with a loaded crossbow in your lap?” Duval asks, and at last I understand why he shoved me back into the tunnel.
“Only with particularly challenging opponents,” Crunard replies.
But that is easily enough fixed. I take my own crossbow from the chain at my waist. It may be smaller than Crunard’s, but it is just as deadly. I fit a bolt to it, and move silently toward the door.
“You shall move first, I think,” Crunard tells Duval.
“No!” I shout, stepping into the room and aiming the crossbow at Crunard’s forehead. “That is how he was poisoning you, by coating the chess pieces with Arduinna’s snare.”