I laugh outright at that. “Yes, I have, Your Grace.”
“She has been working on schemes and plots since his birth, most involving him. Until I was born, he tolerated it. Once I was put in his charge, he would have nothing to do with her plots. even then, his honor shone brighter than most men’s. I believe she quite hates me for it.”
“No doubt,” I murmur, captivated by this peek at the young Duval.
“And if ever I had any doubts — which I did not, although others did — they were erased when I was five years old. Did you know I was betrothed to the english crown prince?”
“Yes, Your Grace. At the convent we study the actions of your family, as your safety and well-being is our first priority.”
She looks around and dimples prettily at this. “Truly?”
“Truly.”
“No wonder that you and Gavriel are so well suited,” she says, turning away again so I can continue rinsing her hair. I frown at this, but before I can protest, she is speaking again and I am loath to interrupt her.
“Anyway, the betrothal enraged the old French king, who had spent years fighting the english and had no wish to see Brittany come under english rule. So he hatched a plot to send his agents into Nantes and abduct me so that I might become his pawn rather than such a liability.
"We received news of this even as they entered the city. As my father’s advisors stood around arguing about what action to take and how best to respond, Gavriel grew impatient, fearing the French would knock down our door any moment. Instead of listening to their arguments, he came to our nursery and roused Isabeau and me from our beds. He tucked one of us under each arm and, accompanied by his staunch companion de Lornay, spirited us away to safety. even as he galloped out of the stables, the French plotters broke into the nursery. I will never forget the terror of that night, the feeling that my whole world had been turned upside down. Nor will I ever forget the safety of Gavriel’s arms as he carried us out of harm’s way.”
I stare at the back of her head, my mouth open in surprise. And yet, some small part of me is not surprised. It all fits with the Duval that I see, if not the one seen by Crunard and the abbess.
The duchess shakes her head. “I still do not know how he managed two young girls on that horse of his.” She turns around to look into my face. “How could I not trust such a man as that, Demoiselle Rienne?”
“Indeed, how could one not?” I whisper.
“I know some call him oath breaker, for although the oath he swore to Saint Camulos required him to stand and fight, he turned his back on the fighting and instead carried me to safety. But as he explained to me later, what good is fighting if what you are fighting for is lost?”
“True enough, Your Grace.” Then we both fall silent, consumed by our own thoughts, while she finishes her bath. My heart feels lighter now that I know the circumstances behind Duval’s oath breaking. From what I am learning of my own god, it seems just the sort of thorny trial they love to torment us with.
when all the traces of d’Albret have been scrubbed from her skin and she is dressed and warm and calm, we send a page to find Duval.
He arrives shortly after, tugging off his riding gloves and looking slightly mussed, as if the wind is blowing mightily outside. His gaze darts from her to me, then back again. "What has happened?”
The duchess grips her hands together tightly. “There has been an incident,” she says, then falters and looks to me for help.
“D’Albret assaulted her in the hallway.”
Duval grows impossibly still and I am reminded of a viper before it strikes. "What do you mean, assaulted?” His voice is deceptively quiet.
“I mean, he backed her up against the wall and fumbled at her skirts.” Anger at the memory makes the words come out harsher than I intend.
Duval’s face grows pale.
“Mumbling all the while about how I would like it if I would only give it a chance,” the duchess adds.
I look at her in horror. “I did not know that.”
“You were too far away to hear.”
Duval’s entire body is as taut as a drawn bowstring. Rage fills his eyes, but he tries to tamp it down for his sister’s sake, as concern wars with fury. “Are you all right?”
“I am fine. Ismae arrived in time.”
He turns then and bows low to me, which shocks me to the core. “Our debt to you is immeasurable,” he says. when he rises, his face is calm and still. "We will kill him,” he announces, then looks at me thoughtfully. “Unless you already have?”
“Alas, no, milord. He ceased his attack when I approached, and he did not bear the marque.”
“Saints take the marque! Look harder.” He begins to pace.
A faint glimmer of amusement touches the duchess’s features. “She fair gutted him looking for it,” she says.
At her words, I feel sheepish. “I admit I did not stop to give thought to maintaining the deception we had in place.”