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?”