Courting Darkness (His Fair Assassin 4)

As my feet carry me closer to the king’s decision, I am fiercely glad the girls are far away from here. With them out of harm’s way, no matter what else happens in the meeting, I will have won.

A guard opens one of the large double doors, then steps aside for me to enter. The king sits in a large chair at his desk, the regent standing behind his right shoulder. She does not look at me, and I don’t know if that is a good sign or a bad one.

Monsieur de Fremin is already there, barely making an effort to contain his impatience. While it is irksome that he arrived before me, his open impatience will not sit well with the king. I cannot decide if he is a stupid man or merely an overconfident one.

The king sets aside the document he is reading to give us his full attention. “I have given this matter much thought and many hours of prayer,” he says without preamble. “The law is clearly on the side of Lord d’Albret having custody of his sisters so that he may provide them with good marriages.” Fremin visibly puffs up at this encouraging announcement. I keep my face as still as stone.

“However,” the king continues, “matters of honor and oaths are involved. My own lady queen has sworn to oversee the d’Albret girls’ safety and well-being, and I do not wish to force her to forsake her word. There is no honor in that for anyone.”

A tiny leaf of hope unfurls in my breast.

“I have decided that for now, the girls will remain in the queen’s care. Surely Lord d’Albret will agree that there is no better custodian for his sisters than the queen of France?”

The lawyer wants—?desperately—?to argue with this. “But, Your Majesty, the girls must be married—”

The king holds up a hand, stopping his words. “Of course they must. But as his liege, their marriages have to be approved by the crown, do they not?”

While this is true, it is often a mere formality. The lawyer cannot risk pointing this out. “Of course, Your Majesty, which he would duly obtain, but—”

“So for now, the sisters d’Albret will be privileged to serve the queen until such time as marriages can be arranged for them. We ourselves will give these unions some thought, and of course, if Lord d’Albret has marriages in mind, we will be happy to consider those unions as well.”

I do not dare to let myself react. I did not expect for him to grant me outright custody—?there is no legal precedent for that. This is the very best I could have hoped for.

The lawyer opens his mouth to argue again, then stops it when he sees the king scowl with displeasure. I briefly wonder if Fremin has been threatened with some dire punishment, should he fail in this task. Before he can do anything to sour the king’s mood, I curtsy deeply. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I can think of no greater honor for you to bestow upon the house d’Albret than to allow me to serve your queen and grant us your protection and guidance in these matters.”

That pleases him, and he settles back in his chair. “You are welcome, Lady Sybella. And you, Lord Fremin. You may take this decision back to your liege.”

“If I may, sire . . .”

Astounded that he is questioning his dismissal, we all turn to stare at him.

“Would it be possible for me to see the girls before I take my leave, so that I may assure my lord as to their good health and well-being?”

His words confirm my biggest fear. He is looking for an opportunity to snatch them from me. I turn and give him a horrified blink. “Are you suggesting the queen has in some way threatened their well-being?”

“No! Of course not. But . . . my lord has messages of affection he would have me pass along, lest they forget how much he cares for them.”

I nearly laugh out loud at that. “Ah, you may tell them to me, and I will share them with my sisters. I am afraid both have taken a fever with the recent winter storm, and it is best that they not have visitors right now.”

The look the lawyer shoots me tells me that in his mind, this is far from over. And he is right. I just don’t think it will end the way he expects it to.

Chapter 92

Genevieve

s I am dressing for supper, the king’s summons arrives, delivered by the chamberlain himself.

He waits outside while I finish my preparations. I don’t have much to choose from, but even so, I take care with my appearance. Not in an attempt to appear prettier, for that part of the game has already been won. But the more care I take with my appearance, the more he will feel I am honoring him.

When I am finally ready, the chamberlain glances at me with approval, then escorts me in silence to the king’s apartments. When we arrive at a pair of thick double doors, one of the guards steps forward to open it for me. I cannot help but wonder what my mother and aunts would think of one of their own sleeping with the king of France himself. I give a regal nod of thanks and smooth my skirts before stepping into the private bedchamber.

The room is huge and made welcoming with rich oak paneling and exquisitely rendered Flemish tapestries hung on the walls. There are two fireplaces, a fire roaring in each one. Along the farthest wall is an enormous canopied bed with deep blue velvet curtains embroidered with gold fleur-de-lis.

The king himself rises from a couch covered in the same blue velvet. He is but a young man, only a handful of years older than I. Even though he is king, I am struck by how vulnerable he looks without his retainers and the trappings of state. “Genevieve! You came.”

I curtsy. “But of course, Your Majesty. I said that I would.”

When he reaches me, there is an almost palpable uncertainty lurking behind his regalness, and I realize that I am well suited to this task. Desire is my mother’s stock in trade, and surely I am my mother’s daughter as well as my father’s.

He smiles shyly and takes my hand. I squeeze his fingers lightly. “Your Majesty, I am honored to be here.”

It is not a lie. It feels as if my entire life has prepared me for this moment. It is the same feeling I had in the abandoned village when Maraud was attacked by outlaws—?I knew what to do and that the moment I had practiced and trained for was finally at hand.

He tugs gently at my hand. “Come sit by the fire and let me pour you some wine.”

I raise my brows slightly. Kings do not dress themselves or wash themselves or put on their own shoes, so I did not expect him to pour his own wine. But it appears that he has dismissed all his attendants, and for that I am glad. What will pass between us is not something that is meant to be witnessed by others.

“Your rooms are magnificent, Your Majesty. I did not know such finery existed in all the world. And so many books! Have you read them all?”

He smiles with shy pride and turns to his collection, a stark hunger shining in his eyes. He is as consumed by lust for them—?for the knowledge they hold—?as he is by the lust for a woman’s body. “Not yet.”

I take a sip of my wine. “The court was all abuzz with your ruling today.”

He looks away from his books, surprised. “Were they? I did not think news would have traveled so quickly.”

“This is the French court, Your Majesty,” I tease.

“True.” His mouth twists into a grin that holds more pathos than humor.

“They say it was a most generous and noble decision,” I tell him gently. “And that your protection of those under your care is in keeping with your chivalrous nature.”

The crease between his brows disappears. “They say that, do they?”

“Well, some do.” I set my goblet down. “I do.”

“Many of my lords are displeased, fearing it calls into question their rights over their own daughters and sisters.”

“Do you have any intention of exercising such rights over them?”

He looks taken aback. “No.”

I smile. “Then their worries will prove unfounded.” I all

ow myself to grow more serious. “Your Majesty, it was a well-thought decision. You protected innocent lives as well as spared their liege any censure or embarrassment, granting them the honor of serving in your queen’s household. And,” I add, slipping off the bench so that I am kneeling in front of him, “you gave full support to your queen. If that is not both wise and chivalrous, I do not know what is.”

If I were to lean forward, I could press my body against his knees, but I do not wish to appear too brazen. Instead, I reach for his hand. “May I?”

He looks puzzled, before realizing I am asking permission. “Of course.”

I take his hand in mine. “Your Majesty, if I can ease the burdens you carry, even just for a handful of hours, and bring you joy—?you who have the weight of so many others on your shoulders—?I will count myself honored to be of some small value to you.”

His face shifts imperceptibly, and I can see that I have touched him.

Good. For I do not lie. He is a kind man and tries to be just and generous.

To my surprise, he gently pulls me back up so that I am half on the couch and half in his lap. “It is you who have honored me with the pleasure of your company. To be simply a man for an hour or two, albeit a very lucky one.” Without looking away, he draws closer, pressing his lips to mine.

His mouth is eager and warm and as soft as an overripe pear. His tongue thrusts too rapidly, like a maid with a butter churn. One hand leaves my shoulders to caress my arm, then moves to my rib cage and upward until he is cupping my breast. His fingers begin squeezing and kneading so forcefully that I am reminded of a farmer milking his cow.

He pulls away, his eyes heavy lidded with desire. “There is a more comfortable place to do this,” he murmurs. He stands and pulls me up alongside him, then leads me to the huge canopied bed. It is cooler here, away from the fire, and I shiver.

He smiles. “Do I make you shiver, dear Gen?”

He is so very hopeful that I must cast my eyes down. “Yes, Your Majesty.”