“A normal man, maybe. Not him.” Maraud needed to believe that. “It’ll just piss him off even more.” It was late afternoon, and they’d been following Cassel’s party for three days. The poxy bastard of a general carried Beast in a rutting cart. Trussed up like a goose. In a chain.
Of course, there was no way else they could have dragged him anywhere unwillingly, but still it rankled Maraud.
“Have you figured out where they’re going yet?” Valine asked.
“Near as I can figure, it’s got to be Cassel’s holding near Luçon. Unless he’s got more I don’t know about.” Which was entirely possible. He’d been imprisoned for over a year—who knew how handsomely the general had been rewarded during that time.
An hour later when they came around the next bend in the road, a single stone tower thrust up into the sky like an obscene gesture. A scattering of buildings clustered nearby, but not too near, as if they didn’t want to get any closer than absolutely necessary.
“Jaspar, you stay with me. The rest of you, hit the village and see what the locals think of the lord returning. Also see what you can find in way of lodgings.”
“We’re not going to just sleep on the road tonight?”
Maraud glanced around at the empty fields. “We’ll be too easily spotted if they post any kind of lookout at the keep. And an inn in the village will be the most likely place to hear word of when Gen and the others arrive.”
There is a long moment of silence. “You think the king is still going to be with them?”
“Unless he gave up halfway and went home, he’ll be here.” But of course, the king wouldn’t give up. Not with Gen there. He wouldn’t want to do anything that might weaken him in her eyes.
Maraud still couldn’t believe she’d stood straight and proud, looked the king in the eye, then admitted they were lovers. The woman had stones, he’d give her that. And apparently, the king had some as well if he was willing to accept her challenge.
The road forked here, one stretch ambling down toward the village and the other leading to the keep. Maraud slowed his horse and lifted a hand in farewell as the others headed for the village.
“We’d best not come in too close on their tails,” he told Jaspar.
Jaspar slowed his pace. Maraud wished there was a scrap of forest or a tree or two alongside the road to skulk among, but there wasn’t. “We’ll go as far on horseback as that last copse of trees, then tie the horses up there and go the rest of the way on foot.”
Much to his regret, it turned out to be their bellies. They were simply too easily spotted otherwise. After crawling half a mile through rye grass and weeds, they were finally in position to see the main gate. Cassel and his party had just reached it.
A lone figure came scurrying out, bowing and scraping, then another long delay as he returned to the gate tower to raise the portcullis.
“Not expected, then,” Jaspar said.
“No. Looks to be mostly empty. Wonder how long since he’s stayed here.” It was a lesser holding. Once it had held strategic importance, but that was three hundred years ago, when it was first built and long before the ocean waters that had lapped at its base had receded.
Once the general, his men, and the cart hauling Beast had gone inside, Maraud said, “Let’s go see just how secure this holding is.”
Chapter 115
Genevieve
“Did Maraud tell you where to meet him?” Sybella stares at General Cassel’s keep in front of us so intently that I wonder if she is trying to burn a hole through it. For all that she holds her body relaxed, I can feel the tension in her thrumming like a plucked bowstring.
“We didn’t have time enough to make those plans. Nor, I think, did he know what to expect.”
“Will he have charged in ahead of our arrival?”
I lift my shoulders. “It is possible, but he is only one day ahead of us, and all is quiet. Hard to believe that if he’d already acted, there wouldn’t be more activity.” Or dead bodies hanging from the battlements.
Sybella glances down at Charlotte, asleep in the saddle in front of her. “I would be glad if she could pass the night at an inn. She’s been through much and is exhausted. Do you think we dare risk it?”
I survey the village spread out around the keep like a thin petticoat. “I don’t see why not.” I lower my voice. “No doubt the king would not mind some more comfortable accommodations.”
Just then a young boy darts into our path, and I must rein in my horse to avoid trampling him. “What in the name of the saints do you think you’re doing?” I shout.
He doffs his cap, then flexes his knee. “Beg pardon, m’lady. I’m to tell you that—” He screws up his face as if trying to remember the words he was told to memorize. “That Rollo’s wolf is waiting for you at the White Hart Inn.” His face relaxes. “Can’t miss it. It’s the only one in the village.” He bobs again, then turns and scampers away.
Sybella shoots me an amused glance. “It appears your friend has posted a lookout for us, which is most considerate of him. Let us go avail ourselves of the White Hart’s hospitality. And see if we can find this—Rollo’s wolf.”
* * *
It turns out we do not need to look for him at all—he is seated in the great room of the inn, along with a number of familiar faces.
“You made good time,” Maraud says.
I glance at Sybella. “It was mostly over before we got there.”
“Except for the me-getting-out-alive part,” she says wryly.
Her praise—for that is what such words coming from her amount to—makes me squirm, and I turn the conversation back to Maraud. “How do you propose we get in? It’s as solid a fortress as I’ve ever seen, and the general does not scrimp on security.”
“You’ve had a chance to observe the layout?” Lazare asks.
“Yes.” Maraud proceeds to tell us all that he has learned about Cassel’s holding. “And we had to kill two guards to get that much,” he says under his breath when the king’s attention is elsewhere.
Sybella studies the lines he’s drawn on the table. “How many portcullises did you say there were?”
“Three. One at the main gate, then each of the postern gates has one as well.”
It is hard not to get discouraged, but I keep my face neutral. “How like the general to be so mistrustful.”
Sybella taps her finger on the left side of the drawing. “In this case, that works to our advantage.”
“How?” Maraud asks. Andry and Tassin look at her like she is daft. No, I realize, they have simply lost possession of their wits around her.
“It is made of wood, yes?”
“True, but solid beams, and not something we could hack our way through. Not before calling the attention of the guards.”
When she smiles, it is both beautiful and terrifying. “So we burn it.”
The king looks up sharply. “You can’t mean to simply march around the country burning down everything in your path?”
Sybella does not flinch. “If I need to.”
The king looks away first. “We could just announce our presence. Tell him that their king is here.”
I wince and try to remember he means well. Before I can intervene, Maraud snorts. “And give Cassel a chance to kill Beast and destroy the evidence of what he’s done or slip out one of the back gates?”
Affronted, the king opens his mouth. “He would not—” He stops.
Mayhap because the king is here at my invitation, I feel obligated to cover for him. “It need only be a small fire, correct?” I glance at Sybella, who does little to hide her amusement.
“But of course. Just a small fire.”
Maraud warms to the idea. “One that would cause a distraction and call the guards from the other gates long enough for us to sneak in.”
“And create a way out that isn’t through eight feet of solid stone,” Andry says.
Sybella looks over at Lazare, who sits off by himself, leaning against the w
all. “Well?”
In one smooth movement, he rises to his feet. “In the time it took you all to argue about it, I got it all planned out.”
“Who will stay with the girl?” Maraud’s question stops us cold.
Before Sybella can answer, Charlotte asks, “Why can’t I go too?”
Sybella hurries over to kneel before her so they are eye to eye. “Because it will be very dangerous. These men are every bit as cruel and brutal as Pierre, but you will not have Pierre’s protection here.”
“Will you be safe?” Her calm composed face does not hide the faint note of fear.
“I believe so. Else I would not be going and leaving you.”
“But you don’t know. Not for certain.”
“No, I don’t. But then again, nothing is certain. There is always a chance.”
“What will happen to me if you don’t come back?”
“What would you like to have happen to you?”
She is pleased to be asked, her face serious as she considers. “I should like to go back to the convent. That would be the best place for me to finish growing up.”
Sybella blinks a few times before she manages to speak. “Very well.”
Aeva, who has said little for the entire trip, volunteers, “I will stay with her.”
“You are the best shot of all of us,” Maraud says. “We may well have need of that skill.”
“I will watch her,” Valine offers.
Charlotte turns to look at her, somewhat unconvinced. Valine leans forward. “I can teach you how to dice,” she says in a low voice.
Charlotte’s eyes brighten, then she glances at Sybella. “She can stay with me.”
Sybella turns to Valine. “Do you know where the convent of Saint Mor-tain is?”
“Yes. I was raised in Brittany.”
“Then if I do not come back, see that she is taken there. Ask for Annith.”
She meets Sybella’s solemn gaze. “You have my word.”
Chapter 116
Sybella
As it turns out, there is no need to burn down the portcullis. The guards at the gate tower of General Cassel’s holding are few and far between. Aeva is able to shoot them both before they even realize a bow has been fired.
With no guards to sound an alarm, we rush to the wall. When we reach it, Tassin stands close to the smooth gray stone in a wide stance. Like performers at a fair, Maraud scrambles up onto his shoulders, then Jaspar, lighter than the others, climbs up them as if they were a ladder. He carefully stands on Maraud’s shoulders, which enables him to reach the top of the wall and pull himself up.
“We’re in,” Maraud says as he leaps off Tassin’s shoulders. Once inside, he comes around to open the gate for the rest of us.
The courtyard is eerily empty and quiet. There is one lone groom at the stables who, if he sees us, decides to ignore us as we creep along the wall toward the main keep.
Inside, it is much the same. “Where is everyone?” Gen asks.
“Don’t know, don’t care,” Tassin says. “They’re not here getting in our way.”
When we reach the stairs, Maraud mutters, “Up or down?”
I cock my head, not listening so much as feeling for other heartbeats. “Down.” I take the lead. As we descend, sounds begin to reach us. One voice in particular grows louder the closer we get: “I am impressed that throughout all of the trials I have put you through, you have not given up the girls’ location.” Cassel.
At the landing, there is a doorway that leads onto a gallery overlooking a large open room—either an empty storeroom or a training room of some sort. I motion for everyone to fan out and take up positions along the gallery.
“Your fortitude and loyalty are most admirable.” There is no anger in Cassel’s manner, no bitterness, simply admiration. I cannot even begin to guess what his motive is.
I peer down into the room in time to see Beast wipe his mouth with the back of his chained hand. He is battered and bruised, with marks along his naked back and chest, and one eye swollen shut. My heart twists in fury.
“What manner of men serve you that they are so willing to throw their lives away in this malevolent game of yours?” he asks.
Cassel’s nostrils flare. “These are not mere soldiers, but men who have been honed and fashioned into the most elite fighting force on the continent. Each one is worth ten of the king’s soldiers. They know no fear, no hunger. They do not tire, nor will they stop fighting for any reason unless I give the command. That is part of why you fascinate me. They welcome war because it is how I have shaped them. You share their commitment even though I have not trained you. It is our shared blood.”
“That is my saint’s influence,” Beast’s voice grinds out. “Not yours.”
Cassel’s smile discounting Beast’s explanation causes my fists to clench. Someone needs to wipe that be-damned smirk from his face. “You and the king claim these types of men are no longer needed, our wars are being fought with different tactics, different weapons. But he is wrong. These men are always needed. No crown, no country, no city-state can rest secure without this sort of strength at its core.”
I glance over at the king, who stands beside Gen. His face is drawn into hard lines.
“So that is the nature of my men. I have yet to see the full potential of your own mettle. So far, I have given you easy choices. Kill or be killed.”
It is hard—so hard—for me not to just end this now. But we are greatly outnumbered, and it is not my fight. Even so, I hold my weapon at the ready.
Beast says nothing, but simply stares straight ahead, his eyes alight with the fury he will not give voice to.
Cassel steps closer—but not close enough to be within reach of Beast should he escape his chains. “Let us make this a more valuable test.” The note of anticipation in his voice makes the fine hairs on the nape of my neck stand up. “I will give you a truly difficult choice. Sacrifice yourself to save others. For that is what is at the core of your honor, is it not? I sent a company of men riding to the convent where I believe your sisters are being held.”
As I bite back a gasp, Beast’s head whips around to glare at the general, his jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscles bunching. “I have also sent a company of men to d’Albret’s holding, where the king has sent the Lady Sybella.” That is when I know he is lying.
“Both are important to you. You may stop one of them. Which shall it be?”
“I will destroy you,” Beast growls, his eyes taking on that feral light.
“You will need to. If you want to save one of them, you will have to fight through me first. Once you have done that, you may ride after whichever is dearest to your heart.”
Before Cassel has finished speaking, the battle fever begins to descend upon Beast. His eyes stop seeing anything but the general, his arms bunch and strain against the chains that hold him, his face contorting in agonized effort as the links slowly begin to stretch, their strength no match for Beast, until they finally give way and snap apart.
Before the men in the room can register what he has done, Beast jams his elbow into the closest one’s gut, knocking the wind out of him. While the man is doubled over, Beast wraps his hand around his neck and breaks it, then grabs the dying man’s sword just as his soul breaks free from his body.
I hear Gen gasp and slam down my defenses against this newest soul. As two more men rush Beast, I glance at General Cassel, the small twist of satisfaction on his face piercing me like an arrow as realization dawns. If Beast kills them all while in the throes of his battle lust, then Cassel will win. If Beast gives in to this, he will have become the thing that Cassel values above all.
I step forward from my hiding place on the gallery. “Beast!” My voice rings out above the noise below.
Chapter 117
The fighting ceases as everyone looks to me. Beast’s body stills. “He lies. I am here. Safe. He has not sent anyone for the girls. We let loose all the horses in the stable. His men have
nothing to ride on to this errand.”
General Cassel’s face twists with anger. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him gesture in my direction, ordering his men to seize me. Surely the stupid man does not think I’ve come alone. I motion with my hand, and the others step forward, bows drawn, arrows aimed below. But I only have eyes for Beast, who finally looks up at me. When our gazes meet, I take all the will I possess and shove it down at him, like I would thrust a rope to a drowning man. Come back to me. Do not give in.
Some of the eerie light leaves his eyes, and I take a deep breath. In any other circumstance, I would tease him, ask if he needs me to save him again. But not in front of Cassel. Instead, I call down, “May I play too, or is this a game for one?”
The feral light recedes further, and he even grins a little. “It is a game for one, my lady, but you can play next time.”
Sensing the battle lust leaving Beast, Cassel grows incensed. “You cannot leave without fighting me.”
“I will not stoop so low as to fight the likes of you.”
“Do not stand so high on your honor. You do not understand the choices the world leaves people like us.”
“People who are ugly? Brutish? Monsters?” Beast laughs. “Do you truly think I do not understand? I, whose own mother tried to kill me when I was not even two years old?” The laughter falls from his voice. “I understand perfectly,” he says softly. “But I had too much stubborn pride to consider proving them right.”
“Pride?” Cassel snorts. “What honor is there in letting a lady turn you from your deadly purpose?”
Beast laughs again, infuriating the general even more. “You mistake my lady if you think she ever shies from death.”
“Foolish pride is not honor.”
“No, but foolish pride gave me time to experience honor, to understand it was what I wanted. To know that no matter what I looked like, I could choose how I acted.
“I am uglier than you, bigger than you, stronger as well. They have called me Beast rather than General, but we both know who the true monster is.”
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