Courting Darkness

by Robin LaFevers

  “That’s too bad, for you will get to wear the new fur cloak you are so fond of. And did I tell you that Beast would be going with you?”

  Louise’s face lights up. “Will he? Well, then, we will be fine without you.”

  I put my hands on my hips and pretend to scowl. “Is that how easily you dismiss me?”

  “He is stronger than you,” she points out. “And will keep us safe.”

  “Are you worried about your safety, little one? Don’t be. There are many who will take care of you. Tephanie, Tola, Aeva, half the queen’s guard. And that is just those who will be traveling with you. There are others, including the queen, who are working to keep you both safe and well.”

  “What about the king?” Charlotte asks. “Does he care?”

  I sometimes wish that Charlotte’s wit was not so sharp. “It is his job to care for all his subjects and see to their safety.” I do not share with her that he and I might have different opinions on how best to achieve that.

  “Besides,” Louise continues, as if Charlotte had not interrupted, “Beast will let us feed his horse apples.”

  “Ah, if only I’d known the way to win your heart was to let you feed my horse.”

  I give them each one last hug, then turn to Tephanie. “You are all right with this?”

  “Of course, my lady. It will be hardest on you. Here.” She thrusts something into my hands.

  It is the embroidery she’s been working on. Slowly, I unfold the delicate white linen and find it embroidered with the brilliant red and green of a holly bush. My eyes sting and my vision blurs.

  “It’s so you have something to wipe your face with, when you need it. I thought the red holly berries would hide the blood.”

  “Thank you.” The words come out in a whisper. I give her a quick, fierce hug and press a fleeting kiss upon her cheek before pulling away.

  And then there is nothing left to say or do but escort the small group down the stairs to the side door. Beast, the accompanying queen’s guard, and Yannic are waiting with the horses already saddled. Because of the castle’s visitors yesterday, only a handful of grooms are about—​and their eyes are still filled with sleep. When the girls have been safely mounted with Tola and Aeva, I turn to Beast. I open my mouth but cannot find the words to say goodbye.

  He grins. “Do not worry. I will charm any obstacles we encounter with my good looks.”

  I smile past the lump in my throat and shake my head at his nonsense.

  He brings my hand up to press his lips gently against my wrist. “I have ordered Lazare to remain here. I cannot leave you utterly alone.” He pauses, growing solemn. “They will be safe, Sybella.” His eyes are full of everything he cannot say. “I swear it.” At his words, I feel a presence, almost as if Saint Camulos himself has stood in surety of Beast’s vow.

  * * *

  When I return to my room, I go to the small trunklet that holds all my most valued possessions. I lift the lid to put Tephanie’s handkerchief in with my other treasures, stopping when I see that the holly twig I carried with me from Rennes is still as green as the day I picked it, the berries just as vibrantly red. I reach out and stroke my finger down one of the shiny green leaves and find some small sliver of hope. Perhaps Mortain holds some mysteries in life, as well as death.

   Chapter 89

  am ready when the page arrives, informing me that the king has summoned me to his chambers.

  I rise, wondering if a decision has already been made or if I am going to be allowed to present my case. With the girls having safely escaped this trap Pierre has set for them, it is far easier to face whatever comes with a calm heart.

  When I arrive, the king is there along with Pierre’s lawyer. I do not know where Pierre found him, but surely he is one of the most respectable-looking men to ever have served the d’Albret family. Whether he is new to their service or simply part of the outer circles that I was never privy to, I don’t know. Nor do I know how much of me and my history within the family he is aware of, but he is decidedly discomfited at my presence, which is a small victory.

  However, my spirits dip when I see that the queen is not in attendance, but the conniving regent is. If Pierre’s lawyer’s arguments do not sway the king to his cause, the regent will do her best to sway the king from mine.

  A sense of grim foreboding settles over me.

  I stop before the king and make a deep curtsy. “Your Majesty.”

  His bejeweled hand waves me to my feet.

  “You wished to speak with me?” I have decided to act as if I am unaware of what is going on, instinct telling me it is the least threatening way to present myself to the king.

  “As you may have heard, your brother has claimed you and your sisters should be in his care, not serving the queen. I am committed to putting forth the crown’s justice, but to do that I must hear all sides before making a decision. Monsieur Fremin, you may go first.” He turns to the lawyer expectantly.

  “The matter is simple, Your Majesty. The Lady Sybella, Lord d’Albret’s sister—”

  The king holds up a hand. “I thought she was the Lord of d’Albret’s daughter.”

  The lawyer nods. “I’m afraid her father has taken a mortal wound and has not regained consciousness in nearly a year. The duties and responsibilities of overseeing the family and its holdings have fallen to Pierre, the eldest surviving son.”

  The word surviving cuts deep. Julian. Would the lessons he learned at the end have made him a better overseer of the d’Albret domain than Pierre?

  “I am sorry to hear of Lord d’Albret’s injuries and will pray to God that he is healed soon.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty.” The lawyer almost succeeds in keeping the impatience out of his voice. “During the fall of Nantes, the Lady Sybella took her sisters from her father’s custody and brought them to Rennes.”

  “Where she served the duchess,” the king interjects.

  “That is what we have been told, Your Majesty, but we have no way to confirm that.”

  “I am confirming that.” The king’s voice is brusque and dismissive.

  “But of course, Your Majesty. Nevertheless, the Lady Sybella did not have her father’s or brother’s permission to leave their custody, nor did she have permission to remove her sisters from their care.”

  “Why did she do so?” The question comes from the regent.

  “We do not know, Madame Regent. Lord d’Albret is most anxious to ask her that same question.”

  “Could it be,” the king offers, “that she thought it a great honor to serve their duchess?”

  There is a warning note in the king’s voice, but the lawyer is not perceptive enough to hear it.

  “Surely that is for their father or brother to decide, not the Lady Sybella.”

  There is silence as the king eyes the lawyer with displeasure before he turns to me. “Lady Sybella. How do you address these charges?”

  “Charges, Your Majesty?” My heart sinks like a dropped stone. I am not here to make my case but to address charges?

  “Your brother claims that you took your sisters from his home without his permission. Is that true?”

  I fold my hands demurely in front of me. “No, Your Majesty. I did indeed have permission. It was given to me by my brother Julian, who was the eldest surviving son at that time.”

  The lawyer all but rolls his eyes, as if I am some imbecile they must indulge. “But, Your Majesty, why would this brother give such permission? It makes no sense to send two young girls off on their own with no escort save an elder sister.”

  The king indicates I may speak. “Your Majesty, it was a time of great political upheaval and confusion. D’Albret had unlawfully taken the city of Nantes from the duchess by force. As you must know, any city under threat of siege is not a safe place for young women.”

  “That is true,” the king concedes.

  “But your father was the one in command,” the regent points out.

  “Yes, Madame, but
everyone knows how difficult it is to control men when they are in battle, how unsafe the cities are, especially to the innocent. For our safety, my lord brother instructed me and my sisters to leave. Unfortunately, both my father and Pierre were absent.”

  The lawyer sighs. “Where did they go, pray tell, with an entire city to put to order?”

  I turn to look at him for the first time. “They were in negotiation with the regent on the terms for handing Nantes over to the approaching French army. Which,” I point out, “would have made it even more unsafe for my sisters.”

  There is a long moment of silence at the stark reminder of the d’Albret family’s stunning lack of honor, for all that it had turned the tide to the crown. The king’s chin rests in one hand while he taps his fingers on the arm of his chair. He turns toward his sister. “Is this true? Did you meet with d’Albret outside the city of Nantes prior to us taking it?”

  He did not know! He thought the city simply had bowed before him, pleased to receive him as their king. Which was true enough after d’Albret’s brutal reign, but startling nonetheless that he was not in on the plans.

  The regent does not so much as squirm in discomfort. Truly, her nerves are forged of iron. “I thought it wise to test the waters and do what we could to assure a peaceful transition. It would do no good to any of us to raze Nantes to the ground as we fought over it.”

  He says nothing, but considers her coldly, the tapping of his fingers growing more pronounced.

  “Your Majesty? If I may?” I use my most humble and self-deprecating manner, which is rewarded by an indication that I may speak. “Count d’Albret was a great soldier and lord, but he had little interest in his daughters. I was only too glad to relieve the men in my family of those duties so they might better concentrate on matters of state. Surely that is what any dutiful daughter should do to ease her liege’s burdens?”

  The king’s face relaxes, almost into a smile. This is the sort of motivation he can accept from a woman. Motivation that does not threaten his own sense of power. One that supports, rather than transplants. “Indeed, Lady Sybella. Would that all sisters chose to see to their brother’s needs in so humble a manner.”

  I silently cringe, not intending my words to be a weapon against the regent—​not while she still holds so many threads of power. I was merely trying to assure him that I was a model of feminine humility.

  The regent uncoils from her place behind the king, coming out to walk in front of me. “I am not at all convinced you are a suitable model for two young girls. One of the soldiers says he saw you drinking and gambling with the guards the night of the wedding.”

  My heart sinks again, and I curse my own foolish temper. “I fear your soldier is mistaken, Madame. Indeed, I spent the entire evening with the queen.”

  The king frowns, and the regent barks out a laugh. “In case you forget, there is a witness to the queen’s activities that evening.”

  “Many witnesses,” I agree. “But as I am certain your witness will attest, he was only with the queen a short time. As soon as he left, I arrived in her chambers to attend upon her. You may call her in and ask her. Or ask any of the ladies you assigned to her that night. They can also attest to my arrival.

  “Prior to that, I was visiting with the queen’s councilors, wanting to enjoy their company before they returned to Brittany. I can only surmise that your soldier has mistaken me for someone else. There were many celebrating the nuptials that night. Besides, I do not play dice or gamble.” Except with my life.

  The regent purses her lips in annoyance, knowing that if I have named witnesses, I most likely speak the truth. I am not, but I was only absent for an hour—​easy enough to blur the timing of that.

  “And what of the rumors that you were performing unholy rites with Captain Dunois’s body?”

  I am careful to keep the shock off of my face. Whatever I was expecting next, it was not that. “Is praying over a fallen commander considered an unholy rite here in France, Madame?”

  Her voice hisses into the space between us like a snake. “That is not all you were doing. By all accounts you were touching him, leaning over his body, placing your hands upon him and your face next to his.”

  My brow clears in understanding. “When he fell from his horse, I rushed to his side to see if I could ease his distress. But I did not know that seeing to someone’s ill health was considered an unholy rite.” I frown slightly. “You do know I spent a handful of years at the Saint Brigantian convent, do you not? I learned some small healing arts while I was there, and surely those cannot be considered unholy, for even France sends its daughters to be trained by the Brigantians.”

  Her nostrils flare in irritation. The king shifts in his chair. “Madame, when I said you could question the Lady Sybella, I did not intend that you should scour the country for such sordid gossip. Are there any other questions that are not rooted in rumor?”

  The regent’s lips flatten into a furious line, and it takes a moment before she can speak. “What sort of respectable noblewoman can wield a knife as you did when your party was ambushed?”

  This time it is I who laughs. “Madame, surely you have heard of Joan of Arc, who led France’s own armies against the English? Or Jeanne de Montfort, who led the Breton forces in our civil war? Or the Lioness of Brittany, who took to harassing the French fleet after her husband was betrayed and killed? Or any number of Frenchwomen who have had to lead their husband’s garrison in order to protect the keep while he was away fighting the king’s wars?”

  Eyes burning, the regent opens her mouth to speak, but I rush over her words. “Your Majesty, sisters often serve their fathers and brothers in many ways. I have tended my brothers’ wounds, entertained my father’s vassals, and prayed for all of their souls. But I have also served my family by protecting my sisters from those who might wish them harm.”

  It occurs to me that on the face of it, this makes me similar to the regent. In as many ways as we are different, we are the same in that. She protects those she is loyal to, and I protect those I hold dear. For all that I dislike her, I also recognize that she does it to protect her brother.

  No. In that moment I realize it is not her brother but the crown of France she protects. That is her true loyalty.

  “Thank you, my lady Sybella. Now, sister dear, do you have anything further to add?”

  She stares at me with an unreadable expression. “I just wonder why, now that the war is over, they should not be returned to their brother. All of them.”

  “A most excellent point.” Pierre’s lawyer is pleased to be back on solid ground.

  “Well, for one, it pleases my queen to have the Lady Sybella serve as her attendant. It also pleases my lady queen to act as wards to the younger girls, an honor any house of noble blood would be overjoyed to have, would you not agree?” The question is asked in silky tones, but is like a silk rug placed over a hole in the ground. One misstep in the answer could cause a downfall.

  Unfortunately, the lawyer sees the danger. “But of course, Your Majesty. Is that your judgment, then?”

  “No. Now that I have heard from all parties, I must think and pray on it. I will summon you back when I have decided. You are all dismissed.” He waves his hand languidly.

  As we depart the room, the lawyer sends me a long, calculating look, and I know that whatever is decided, he thinks he still holds all the cards.

   Chapter 90

  s I leave the king’s chambers, I know it is more critical than ever that I maintain appearances. I must keep my shoulders back and head high, as if I’ve not a care in the world.

  It is hard when what I wish to do is gallop after my sisters and disappear off the face of the earth. The painful truth is that Captain Dunois was right about how I would be viewed should my true nature be exposed, and the regent did all that she could to expose it. Fortunately for me, each of the incidents had another, more easily believed explanation.

  Except for the dicing and the drinking with
the soldiers, but I am not the only woman of noble birth who has done that. And it was easy enough to lie about. Even so, I am happy her informant did not see us at daggers.

  “How did it go?”

  The voice nearly sends my bones leaping from my skin.

  “I am sorry,” Father Effram says. “I did not mean to startle you.”

  “Well, if your be-damned heart beat like a normal person’s, it would not be a problem.”

  He smiles in sympathy. “I take it the hearing did not go well.”

  “It went fine. It is your sneaking that has me on edge.”

  “But of course.”

  I sigh. “It was not so much a custody hearing, but more of a chance for the regent to attempt to assassinate my character.”

  Father Effram frowns in concern, and I find myself relaying my meeting—​after all, there is no one else to tell. Besides, he is a confessor.

  “Truly,” I say when I have finished, “my dark nature puts all I have strived for at risk.”

  He tilts his head as if listening to a particularly elusive melody. “Has it?”

  I try not to scowl at his question. “What do you mean?”

  “It seems to me that all the actions thrown back in your face by the regent did not come from a dark place, my lady. But one of caring.”

  I am so startled by his words that I stop walking.

  “Of caring for Dunois when he was stricken,” he continues. “Of caring who was trying to harm the duchess. Of caring that as few as possible be harmed in the attack against us on the road. You could have simply disappeared into the litter with the rest of the ladies.”

  “More would have died if I’d done that!”

  He smiles. “Precisely my point. Even choosing to draw the regent’s ire to lend strength to the duchess was done out of a passionate desire to protect her. And at great cost to yourself. Staying silent would have kept the regent from even noticing you.”

  I frown. “You know about that?”