I blink rapidly and make my voice slightly husky, as if holding back tears. “I fear I am alone. As I said, much ill has befallen my party.” He is fair twitching to ask what happened, but is constrained by the formality of his position. “However, I have news that must be delivered to Madame Regent, and turning back offered no safer course than continuing onward.”
“My lady, I am sorry to hear of all your misfortune. Alas, Madame Regent has ridden out for the morning. Would you like to rest until she returns?”
I shake my head sadly. “My news and my misfortunes on the road have made me restless. Would it be possible to ease my heart in the gardens? Once I have done that, perhaps I will be able to rest.”
Every day that I was at court, after the king’s midday meal, he walked in his garden before turning to the social pleasures of the afternoon. I must only position myself and wait.
“But of course. Let me send for one of Madame’s attendants to escort you.”
I rest my hand on his arm in a fleeting gesture. “Please, monsieur. I am poor company right now, and the attendants would want to know why I am here. It is for Madame to hear first. Truly, I wish only some time alone in the garden to compose myself.”
The seneschal’s affection for protocol gives way before the weight of my distress. He leads me through the palace to where the doors open out onto the gardens. “Once you have found your peace, send for me and I will have you settled in a room until Madame returns.”
I place my hand on my throat in a gesture of profound gratitude. “Thank you, monsieur.”
And with that, I am alone in the king’s garden.
* * *
Nearly an hour later, I hear the sound of voices and footsteps crunching on the gravel. As they draw closer, I am able to pick out a deep rumbling voice I do not recognize. “Send them all back to their brother. They are his to command, no matter what your queen prefers. You do not wish to be seen as weak.”
“Surely honoring my lady wife’s vows is honorable, not weak,” the familiar voice of the king answers. I shift my position in the hedge ever so slightly, trying to get a glimpse of them.
The king is dressed in fine satins and velvet that do not hide the slightness of his figure or the shortness of his height. And no finery in the world can hide the plainness of his face. Nevertheless, it is a face that is nearly always kind, and that is more than most of the people I have known at court.
There are half a dozen men with him, but only one walks beside him, deep in conversation. He is exceptionally tall and towers over the king. He is broad of shoulder and thick with muscle. His features are unrelentingly plain, bordering on ugly. In spite of his looks, he emanates an almost animal virility as deeply compelling as it is unsettling. There is a sense of barely contained civility to him.
Their steps bring them closer toward me and I realize I must interrupt them or have the king pass by altogether and lose my chance to let him know that I am back.
I soften my shoulders, widen my eyes, and step out from the shadows of the hedge. “Sire?”
At the sound of my voice, the king’s head snaps up. His companion’s hand flies to his sword hilt, but seeing me, he does not draw it.
“Genevieve?”
I take a hesitant step forward, my hands gently twisting together with doubt.
“Genevieve? Is that you?” The king waves his retainers away. The large man hesitates until the king flashes him an annoyed glance.
Alone, the king strides forward to greet me, hands outstretched. He has not forgotten, and he is most definitely happy to see me. The two things I don’t control have fallen my way.
“Yes, sire. It is I.” I sink into a deep curtsy. Immediately his gloved hand is on my elbow, helping me to my feet.
“Genevieve.” His voice is low and warm while his gaze sweeps over me, taking in my gown, my shoes, my hair. “I am surprised to see you.”
“I am sorry to appear unannounced, but I had news that was best given to Madame Regent in person.”
To my immense relief, he does not press me for the news. Either he does not care or has assumed that it is some matter best left to the women of his household. Either explanation suits me, for bringing up the subject of death while attempting to revive an old tendre will not help my cause.
He takes my hands. “That is most thoughtful of you, but you were always that.” He smiles warmly, and I realize this fruit still hangs low in the tree. I have merely to pluck it.
I turn my gaze shyly from him to his prized gardens. “And of course, once I was here I had to indulge myself to admire your gardens.” I sigh, so soft it could easily be missed—?if he weren’t hanging on my every word. “I do miss them so.”
“As would I if I was not able to visit them whenever I chose.” He gives me his arm. “Let us enjoy them together.”
There is a loud cough behind us, and the king grimaces. “General Cassel has ridden all the way from Flanders to speak with me. I should not keep him waiting.”
At the name, everything inside me stills. It is the general Maraud has been seeking—?the man responsible for the murder of his brother. I dare not turn around to look at him. Not with that knowledge in my eyes.
“You will be staying for a while before you return to Cognac.” The king does not frame it as a question.
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
“Good.” He gives my hand a squeeze, then, thinking better of it, lifts it to his lips. “Soon.” His eyes are warm upon mine. “I will see you soon. You have my promise.”
I curtsy deeply. “You do me great honor, Your Majesty.” When I rise, General Cassel is watching me with amused speculation. There is a calculation in his manner that has me believing every word Maraud has said about him. Something in his gaze makes me feel stripped bare, so I lift my skirts and hurry away, careful to keep my head high and my shoulders straight.
Chapter 85
eeling well pleased with the day’s work, I return to the palace. Before I can so much as search out the seneschal, I stumble upon the regent. She is attended by four of her loyal ladies, and has a distinct air of self-satisfaction about her.
When she sees me, the smile vanishes and she comes to a sudden stop, her attendants having to step lightly to avoid trampling her. “Genevieve?”
“Madame Regent.” I sink into a deep curtsy, glancing up from between my lashes to see how she is taking my sudden appearance.
While her face registers mild surprise, the look she gives me is not unwelcome. In truth, she looks—?almost—?glad to see me. Which is odd, as I was never her favorite.
“Come, walk with me.” She waves her other ladies back and casts me a speculative glance as she takes my arm in hers. “What brings you here? I had no news of your coming.”
“I am sorry for that, Madame. A messenger was sent, but it appears he did not arrive.”
Her fine brows draw into a delicate frown. “And where are your attendants?” The faint reproach in her voice is unmistakable, although whether it is for me or my missing attendants, I am unsure.
“That is more bad news, Madame! I fear I bear nothing but distressing tales.”
She looks at me sharply. “Come, you must tell me of them.” She turns to her ladies. “You are dismissed. I will find you when I have need of you again.”
With that, she takes my arm more firmly in hers and leads me down the hall. “We will be more comfortable in my office, where I can hear your tale in its entirety.”
“Thank you, Madame.” My voice is low, measured, and grateful, but inside I am cursing my luck. While I knew I would have to speak with her, I did not think it would be so very soon.
Her office is finely appointed, opulent even, filled with elegant furniture and decorations. She escorts me to one of the intricately carved Italian chairs facing her desk, then takes her seat behind it. “So, what brings you here, unannounced and unescorted?” She is not as shocked as I feared she would be, which is to my favor. Indeed, she is studying me much
as a farmwife studies a freshly snared rabbit.
“It is a long, unpleasant tale, Madame.”
“The sooner begun, the sooner it will be over.” She settles back in her chair, folds her slim white hands, and gives me her full attention.
I clasp my own hands in my lap. “I come bearing the saddest of news, and met with even more of it along the way. As I told you, the messenger I sent did not make it. Additionally, my own escort and attendants were attacked, near Sainte-Maure.”
Her eyes widen at this. “By whom?”
“I don’t know. Brigands. Outlaws. I only know that my escorts sacrificed their lives so that I might escape.”
She regards me thoughtfully. “You made it all the way from Sainte-Maure to Plessis alone?”
“What choice did I have? To turn back was a longer journey. And since the others paid with their lives, it felt disrespectful of their sacrifice to do anything other than continue.”
“You could have sought aid at a church or abbey. They could have provided you with an escort for the rest of your trip.”
“I never considered that, Madame. From all that you have taught us, I thought the fewer people who saw me alone, the better.”
“That is a reasonable approach,” she concedes. “Tell me exactly where you were attacked so that we may send out inquiries. This will not go unpunished.”
I describe the small valley where d’Albret’s men caught up to us. Even if the wolves or carrion have carried off the remains of the dead, there will be plenty of signs of our struggle.