Courting Darkness (His Fair Assassin 4)

I am so astounded by his words that I can only blink in response.

He picks up a heavy silver inkpot and begins studying it. “Beast’s family, too, has its skeletons.” While Beast himself has told me of them, I am stunned that Captain Dunois would speak of it. “I do not know how much he has told you—”

“All of it, my lord.”

He nods. “I had hoped so. But there is one thing that Beast does not know yet. I wish to tell you as well, for he will not be happy when he learns of it. Like you”—?he glances up from the inkwell long enough to send me a piercing look—?“he may try to blame himself or use it to pull away from those he cares about.”

Merde. The clarity with which Captain Dunois sees me is most unsettling.

“It is about Beast’s father.”

“His father?” The word invokes a lifetime of Beast’s pain and fury and anger. A lifetime of his mother’s hatred for being born to her through the rape of a French soldier. “He claimed to have no father.”

“Lord Waroch is dead,” Captain Dunois says quietly. “But the man who sired Beast is not.”

I reach out to steady myself once more against the chair. “Are you certain?” I think of Beast, and the years of ill treatment by his mother, a young boy’s understanding of the unfathomable sins of his father.

Captain Dunois stares at the inkwell morosely. “I knew—?know—?him, I’m afraid. When he returned from the war, he was not shy about boasting of his exploits, nor of how he treated the lady of the keep he had commandeered—?Beast’s mother.”

“My lord, why are you telling me this?”

“I tell you because his father is high up in King Charles’s army and known to frequent the French court. There is a chance Beast will run into him during your time in France. I did not wish him to do so unprepared.”

“Would it not be better for Beast to remain unaware of this?”

Dunois grimaces and sets the inkwell down. “There is a strong family resemblance. I fear that if they meet, it will be obvious to both of them. I don’t want Beast taken by surprise.”

“But why tell me?”

“Because it is the part of himself that Beast hates the most, my lady. The part that kept him from even allowing a woman into his life. If he erects a wall between you when he learns of this, I want you to breach it.”

Our eyes meet in a moment of perfect understanding. “I will not let him cast me away so easily.”

He gives a ghost of a smile, then stands and heads for the door. When he reaches it, he pauses. “The gods set all this in motion years ago, my lady. None of this is your fault,” he says softly. “Not Pierre, not the guard. You must also know this: There is no place Beast would rather be than pursuing those that mean you harm. Relieve yourself of that burden, at least.”

Then he is gone, and I am left struggling to accept both his unexpected trust and the absolution he has so generously given.

* * *

When I return to my chambers, I thank Ismae, Lazare, and Yannic, then dismiss them until morning.

Ismae lingers. “Any word on Beast?”

“No, though Captain Dunois does not think it is time to worry yet.”

“He is likely right.” She bids me good night and follows Lazare out of the room. Yannic pauses in the doorway, his gnarled hand outstretched to give me something.

It is small and round. A black pebble, I think. “Is this one of your lucky ones?” He has them blessed by saints or priests or whomever he can find before using them in his deadly slingshot. “Thank you. It is lovely. Who was this one blessed by?”

He makes a cutting motion at his throat, lolling his head to the side, eyes closed.

“Mortain?”

He shakes his head.

Frowning, I try again. “Balthazaar? Before he left?”

Yannic waggles his hand back and forth. Not wanting to press him further, I close my palm around the pebble. “Thank you.”

When he is gone, I close the chamber door and cross over to my small trunklet. I lift the lid and place the stone in the box, then retrieve the sprig of holly from my belt and lay it next to the pebble before closing it again.

When I turn toward the far corner of the room, I see Tephanie sitting beside the bed, her face pale, her hands tightly clasped together.

Even though the bed curtains are tightly drawn, I keep my voice low. “Tephanie.”

Her head snaps up, her face brightening. “My lady!”

I motion her away from the bed to the fireplace. “Thank you again, for seeing to my sisters.”

“Of course, my lady. I am honored to be of service.”

“That may well be, but this sort of service is far more than you bargained for.” She starts to protest, but I hold up my hand. “Tephanie.” My voice is as gentle as I know how to make it. “You are pale, and your hands still shake. You were not meant to be a guardsman, but a beloved and devoted companion. While I would be sad to see you go, I cannot help but feel you would be happier in some other role. One that does not put you in harm’s way.”

Her hand flies to her cheek. “Oh no! I wish to serve you and the girls. Please don’t send me away.”

I reach out and tuck a strand of her mousy brown hair behind her ear. “Dearest goose, it would not be dismissing you, but seeing that you are safe.” For the briefest of moments, she allows her cheek to rest against the tips of my fingers, then quickly pulls away. “You understand, I cannot guarantee that something like this will not happen again?” I say softly.

She plucks nervously at her skirt. “I know, my lady. But few who are suited to the task of caring for young girls would be prepared for such things. I know your family and what to expect. I will be more alert from now on. I grew careless.”

“This is in no way a reproach of you or how you reacted! None of us expected Pierre to be so bold. You were courageous and kept your head, and for that you have my eternal gratitude.” Tephanie is one of the few who have found a place in my heart, and I would not hurt her for any reason. And as I gaze into her large brown eyes, eyes that are practically pleading with me, I realize that sending her away would hurt her. “If you truly wish to stay, I would be honored to have you.”

As moved as I am by Tephanie’s devotion, she is also one more person I will have to protect. All while hiding every weapon, skill, and talent I possess. It is beyond galling and I want to rail at the stupidity of a world that requires such rules. But I cannot do that without fear of drawing the judgment I wish to avoid. Merde.

But Tephanie will be under no such scrutiny. “Tephanie, do you still have that knife I gave you in Nantes?”

She looks at me blankly for a moment before her face clears. “Yes, my lady!”

I shove aside the rug in front of the fire. “Fetch it, then. Tonight we will begin your first lesson.”

Chapter 18

Genevieve

return to the dungeons bearing a large sack of food. When asked, I told the kitchen servants I was taking it to Margot. They were surprised, as they had sent up a separate tray less than an hour before. I smiled and told them that with the babe, Margot had the appetite of three men.

Reassured by this good sign, they piled my tray high with all manner of food—?plenty for both me and the prisoner.

I quickly transfer it to a sack, fill the empty wineskin with water, and return to the dungeon. As I draw near the oubliette, I can hear the prisoner moving. I slow my steps so I may listen better. He is breathing heavily, panting almost. A faint whooshing sound comes in a steady rhythm, pauses, then starts up again. I am so busy concentrating that I do not mind my feet and stumble on an uneven cobble and nearly land on my face.

“Ah, my ghost has returned.”

“Just how many ghosts do you have visiting you?”

“Too many.” His voice is bleak. “But you are my favorite.”

“You only say that because I come bearing food.”

My words are met by silence. “You do?” He is

not quite able to hide the faint tremble of hope in his voice.

“I do.” When I reach the thick iron grate, I set the torch nearer to it than I have in the past, as I will need some light in order to get all this food down to him.

Mostly to give him something to do besides salivate while he waits for me to open the grate, I ask, “What were you doing just now?”

“What do you mean?”