Grave Mercy (His Fair Assassin 1)

I have no idea what he is talking about. I yawn again, then pinch myself, not wanting to fall asleep. "Why did your father promise your sister to Count d’Albret? with her kingdom as dowry, surely she could have made a better match than that? To someone who wasn’t so repulsive. ”

There is a long moment of silence before Duval answers. “It was a desperate bid to save that very kingdom. Our lord father was short on troops with which to fight the French. D’Albret agreed to supply those troops, but at a price. ”

“The duchess’s hand in marriage. ”

“Yes. My sister’s hand in marriage. ”

The utter betrayal of this leaves me speechless, for while the price paid was considerably higher, the arrangement was not so very different from my father’s bargain with Guillo.

“Perhaps my father thought he would live long enough to assure the marriage never came to pass,” Duval says. “I would like to believe that. ” There is a faint note of anguish in his voice, and I know that he feels the betrayal as sharply as I do.

“I’m sure you are right, my lord,” I say, surprised that I feel the need to comfort him.

“I have sworn that no matter how much d’Albret bellows or what he threatens, he will have to step over my dead body to marry her. ”

I cannot help but admire Duval greatly in that moment and find myself wishing that his father had cared half so much about Anne. even so, I am not altogether comfortable with this small bit of harmony. Luckily, it does not last long.

“Now, enough questions, Ismae, or else I will hav

e to think of some way to silence you. ”

At his threat, my mind immediately goes to his disconcerting game of the previous night. From the faint note of humor in his voice, I suspect he is thinking of it also. Not wishing to test that theory, I settle down under my covers and close my eyes. I am certain I will not sleep with him in the room, but the sooner I fool him into believing I am asleep, the sooner he will leave.

I am locked in Guillo’s root cellar; my face presses against the floor, and the sharp smell of dirt is in my nose. Something heavy pushes down on me, forcing me farther into the dirt. Straining my neck, I look up. Guillo is before me, fumbling at the front of his braies, leering. The weight on top of me grows heavier, and my arms are wrenched up behind my back, nearly to the point of breaking. I twist around, trying to peer through my hair, and find the flat black eyes of Count d’Albret. His long, careless fingers fumble at my skirts while Guillo beckons to me from the shadows. I struggle and buck against him, trying to throw him from my back, but he grips my arms tighter and forces me back down. “No!” I shout. My hand scrabbles in the dirt until it closes around the handle of a dagger hidden there. I grip it tightly, then roll out of d’Albret’s grasp and thrust the knife in his throat.

He swears a black oath and I feel the warmth of his blood trickle down my arm. Now free of his grip, I blink and shove the hair out of my eyes.

Only to find Duval sitting on my bed, staring at me. He holds his hand to his collar, blood seeping between his fingers, the dagger still in my hand.

“God’s Teeth,” he says. “I was only trying to wake you. You were crying out in your sleep. ”

“I was not,” I say, then look from his neck to my knife.

"When I tried to wake you, you stabbed me. ” He sounds sore put out, and I cannot blame him.

“Merde. ” I am fully awake now and filled with remorse. I toss my knife onto the bed and scramble out from under the covers. while Duval tries to keep the blood from dripping on the bed, I hurry to the washbasin and dip one of the linen towels into the cold water. “Let me see how bad it is,” I say, returning to the bed.

“Not serious, I think. ” He lifts his chin to give me better access. “But you have ruined one of my favorite shirts. ”

I gently mop the blood on his neck and collarbone. “Then perhaps you shouldn’t sneak up on people when they are sleeping. ”

“You were whimpering and crying. You’d rather I left you to the tender mercies of your dream?”

Heat creeps into my face at the memory of my nightmare. “No,” I admit. “Perhaps not. ” I’ve wiped away most of the blood and can see a two-inch scratch along his collarbone. “I must resume practicing,” I mutter. “I missed. ”

Duval barks out a laugh. “Only because I have very good reflexes and you were asleep. ” He grows quiet for a moment, and I become aware of the intimacy of our positions. we sit on the bed, our knees touching. My hand rests at the base of his throat and I can feel the steady beat of his heart under my wrist. His dark eyes study me.

Trying to ease my sudden discomfort, I take the towel from his neck and begin folding it. My wrist still throbs where it has lain over his heart.

“Do you care to share your dream?” His voice is low and warm and like as not could coax secrets from a stone.

“It was nothing. I have already forgotten it. ”

“Liar. ” His voice is so soft I am not sure I heard it. even so, I keep my gaze on the linen towel as I search it for a clean, unbloodied spot.

There is a long moment of awkward silence, then Duval speaks. “I can tend to it from here, I think. ” His fingers brush against mine as he takes the towel from my hands. He stands up, leaving me alone on the bed, the warmth of his solid body no longer between me and my nightmares.

Feeling miserable, although not sure why, I wrap my arms around myself. “I am sorry, my lord. I did not wish to harm you. ” The truth of my words surprises me, for it seems as if I have done naught but long to be rid of him.

His smile flashes, quick and surprising in the darkness. "When one consorts with assassins, one must expect to dance along the edge of a knife once or twice. I bid you good night. ”

He leaves the room, and I lie back down on the bed, unable to tell if I am overly warm or chilled to the bone.

The next morning, Louyse bustles in with a cheerful smile and a pitcher of hot water. I have not slept since Duval left and am awake when she arrives. “Good morning, demoiselle. ”

“Good morning, Louyse. ” I stretch, then climb out of bed. Since there is no towel this morning, I cup my hands into the basin and splash the warm water on my face. “No word of my trunks yet?” I ask as I hurriedly dry my face and hands on my night shift.

“No, demoiselle,” she says as she straightens the covers on the bed.

“In that case, I will wear the dark gray gown today. ”

When Louyse doesn’t answer, I turn and find her staring at a smear of blood on the sheets. Sweet Mortain! what must she think?

Not wanting to acknowledge the blood, I hurry over to the garderobe. She bustles to my side and casts me a look, her face full of concern. “Is demoiselle sure she feels well enough to be up and about today? Would you like me to bring you more hot water? Or I could arrange for a bath, if demoiselle likes?”

“No,” I say shortly. “I am fine. ”

The older woman reaches out and pats my arm. “Do not worry. ” She lowers her voice. “It will not always hurt so. ”

With dawning horror, I realize what conclusions she has drawn from the blood on the sheets. My cheeks flame bright red.

My reputation as Duval’s mistress has just been firmly established.

Chapter Twenty-one