A strangled sob stops me long enough to glance over my shoulder, my heart inexplicably lifting to see Pierre take a step toward the flames. “The faster you go, the less it will hurt,” I call out, then grab Charlotte’s hand.
“I thought I told you to stay in the chapel!” I tell her as I drag her out the door.
She looks up at me, vexed beyond belief.
I give her hand a squeeze. “I am very glad you did not,” I say, and her face clears as I pull her toward the stairs. Seconds later, the floor above us comes crashing down in a rain of crimson and gold fire.
Chapter 113
Once we are free of the flames, I stop running and pause, turning to face her, my hands on her shoulders. “Are you all right?” I examine her, frantically looking for any signs of burns or singe marks, but her face is unblemished. “Pierre did not hurt you?”
Her eyes study me with equal intensity. “No. Not the way he hurt you.”
Her words are like a blow, setting me back on my heels. “Why did you do that?” she asks.
“Do what?”
“Give him a choice?”
I want to tell her because of the same reason I gave her one. Instead I ask, “Why did you give me a choice? Why did you come back?”
She gives me a ferocious scowl. “I didn’t give you a choice. I didn’t want him to come after us and needed to protect Louise.”
“But you did. When you came back and stabbed him. While it may have been due to your feelings for Louise, it also gave me a choice—a space in which to save myself.”
She is quiet then. I glance down at the knife. “Where did you get that?”
She glances at me in scorn. “It is the knife you gave me.”
The words cause my throat to thicken. I gave her the knife.
I taught her to fight, then set Aeva to teaching her when I couldn’t.
I placed her with women who are warriors at heart.
I showed her the path and, like a flame set to kindling, she took it. She has already begun her rebirth, and I want to weep for the joy of it.
* * *
Outside, the courtyard is like a vision from hell. Red flames cast their glow, reaching up to the dark sky. People are running, horses fleeing, cows mooing in alarm. I hold Charlotte’s hand tightly and look to the stables, but the entire household has turned out to grab a mount for themselves and flee. The main gate is choked with people, backed up toward the armory, which blazes like a torch against the night sky.
I do not know if they will all make it out in time.
I do not know if we will make it out in time. I had not planned on lingering so long in Pierre’s study. Even if we can fight our way to the stables and there are any horses left, it will be impossible to wrest them from the panicked grip of others.
“The wall,” I mutter to Charlotte.
She gives me a look of disbelief. “How are we to get through a wall?”
“Not through it, over it. I have a rope.”
But no sooner do I have the grappling hook out and over the wall than we are spotted by frantic servants, who come running our way. Big and burly, they shove and push, and I must let go of the rope else risk being separated from Charlotte or trampled.
Merde. I have not come this far to be trampled to death by the very people I was so intent should not be harmed.
I pause in the shadows to think—the heat of the flames pressing against my back—trying to remember how far away the drainpipe that leads to the ocean is, and if Charlotte can swim. Before I can ask her, there is a small explosion off to the left. It is the opposite end of the courtyard from the armory, and I did not set any bombs there. As the bright flash recedes from my eyes, I see someone, no, two someones, pushing their way through a hole they have blasted through the wall. The first figure clears the rubble, sword raised, long braid whipping back and forth as she scans the chaos.
“Genevieve!” Relief gushes through me, making me giddy.
Her head swivels in our direction, and she motions us toward her. Beside her another head pokes through, and I nearly laugh as I recognize Lazare. They have come! Beast has come! I dared not hope, and yet here they are.
I tighten my hold on Charlotte’s hand, and we sprint the short distance toward the others. When I reach them, much to my surprise, Genevieve throws her arms around me in a fierce hug.
“Are you all right?”
I nod, ignoring the lump in my throat.
“If you two have finished your lovemaking,” Lazare drawls, “we’d best get out of here before the entire thing’s engulfed.”
I elbow him in the ribs. “Watch your language. There’s a young lady present.”
Genevieve g
rabs my arm, my other still attached to Charlotte’s hand, and drags me toward the hole in the wall. “And who is this?”
“My sister.”
Her steps come to a sudden stop, and she gapes at me. “It is a long story.”
“Which you will tell her some other time so as we don’t all catch on fire or get trampled,” Lazare says, then puts his hand to my back and shoves.
As I step through the hole, I look for Beast but only see Aeva, Poulet, and a few men I do not recognize. I whirl around. “Did Beast go in there to find me? We must let him know I am out.”
My words are met with silence. Genevieve and Lazare exchange a glance. “Beast is not here,” she says at last.
“Where is he?”
“General Cassel has him. Maraud has gone on ahead. We are to meet up with him as soon as we have you.”
Before I can order everyone to mount up, I hear Charlotte ask, “Who are you?” When I turn to see who Charlotte’s question is addressed to, I gasp and drop into a deep curtsy, hissing at Charlotte to do the same.
“I am the king, demoiselle.”
“What are you doing here?”
He looks at me, then at her. “I have come to rescue you.”
She meets his gaze steadily. “My sister already did that.”
The king looks at me again with a smile that is both rueful and nonplussed. “So I see.”
Nevertheless, he came. He himself rode out to see to our safety. The greatest man in all the kingdom has—finally—bestirred himself on our behalf.
I let the gratitude and thanks that fill my heart show upon my face. He grows flustered, mayhap even blushes, before giving a quick nod.
It is time to go find Beast.
Chapter 114
Maraud
“Waroch is going to be battered to mincemeat before he even gets where they’re going,” Jaspar said.