Grave Mercy (His Fair Assassin 1)

Author: Robin LaFevers

The man who approaches is tall and slender with dark eyes and fine features and is far too young to be her lover, and yet she has called him darling. He gives me a cautious, considering look, then bends to kiss Hivern’s cheek.

“Ismae, I would like you to meet my son François Avaugour. François, this is Ismae, Gavriel’s new friend. ”

If he has heard tell of his brother’s “friend,” he gives no indication. He bends gallantly over my hand. “Enchanté, demoiselle. Any friend of my brother’s is a friend of mine. ”

I murmur some nonsense back, and Madame Hivern pats the seat next to her. “Come join us, my love. ”

“But of course. ” François takes the chair close to Hivern so that he faces me. “How can I resist the two loveliest ladies at court?”

I long to roll my eyes at his words, but I peer up at him through my lashes instead.

“Gavriel’s friend is not used to such polished manners, François. She has been too long in the country. You should offer to guide her through her first visit to court when your brother is tending to his other duties. ”

His liquid brown eyes meet mine. “I can think of nothing that would give me more pleasure, demoiselle. ”

“You are too kind,” I murmur, pleased at how easily I have been pulled into the bosom of Duval’s family. They must hunger after his secrets as much as I hunger after theirs.

“My son was born and raised at court and can steer you safely through its treacherous waters. ”

“But surely milord Duval will do that,” I protest.

“Duval can do what?” a deep, familiar voice asks.

“Gavriel!” Hivern’s voice is full of gaiety that is as false as her heart. "What a lovely surprise. we were just getting to know your friend a little better. She is such a charming thing. ”

The warm, heavy weight of Duval’s hand settles on my shoulder and I am rendered speechless as he bends down and places a kiss atop my head.

“Dearest Ismae,” Duval says. "Whatever are you doing here? Not that it isn’t a delightful surprise. ”

Merde. I have been so busy matching wits with Madame Hivern that I have not given any thought to an explanation for my presence here at court.

“She was kind enough to accept my invitation, Gavriel,” Madame Hivern says with a sly glance in my direction. “I thought it would be fun to become acquainted. ”

Duval’s hand on my shoulder tightens painfully, then he removes it and gives a perfunctory bow. I do not know how he makes it look ironic, but he does. “My lady mother’s generosity knows no bounds. ” Then he turns his gaze upon me. “Come, demoiselle. I am finished here. ” He reaches down, grabs my elbow, and pulls me to my feet. without another look in his family’s direction, we depart.

Behind the crackle and snap of anger that burns in his eyes, I catch a glimpse of something else. Something that looks remarkably like fear.

"Was that part of your convent’s instructions?” Duval’s voice is tight with anger. “To catch the eye of my brother and offer yourself to him as well as me?”

“No, my lord, it was not,” I say primly.

But likely only because it hadn’t occurred to the abbess.

Chapter Twenty-two

Duval escorts me back to his residence himself. He says it is so I do not get lost along the way, but he does not fool me. He wants to be certain I do not circle back to the palace. when he leaves to return to court, I consider following him a second time but then realize it would be foolish, as he will likely be expecting it. Besides, I do not wish to risk running into Madame Hivern again. The thinly veiled venom of her false concern still bubbles through me, as vicious as any poison. I wonder how Duval would feel if I killed his mother, for in truth, that is what I wish to do. He might well thank me.

When I reach my chamber, I find Louyse unpacking my trunks. She turns to me, her old cheeks pink. “Oh, miss! So many lovely things you have. ”

Indeed, rows and rows of the most beautiful gowns are spread about the room. I am stunned at the riches the convent has provided. Velvets and brocades and the finest silks, all in dazzling colors: deep blue, emerald green, and rich claret.

There is a sound in the doorway and I look up to find Agnez coming into the room holding a large twig cage at arm’s length. In it sits a large, rather fiendish-looking crow.

“They sent this along with the trunks, demoiselle,” Louyse explains. "We tried to put it in the stables, but it unsettled all the horses, so the ostler insisted we bring it inside. Is it a . . . pet, my lady?”

“Of a sort. Put the cage over by the window,” I tell Agnez. As she sets it on the floor, the crow squawks and lunges for her finger. She squeaks and springs back, nearly tripping in her haste to be away from the bird.

“That’ll be all,” Louyse says to her sharply, although it isn’t really the girl’s fault.

with one last suspicious glance at the crow, Agnez quickly takes her leave. Louyse shakes her head. "Will you want help dressing?” At my blank look, she adds, “Before you go to court tonight?”

“Perhaps in an hour or so, thank you. ”

She pauses at the door. “Oh, I nearly forgot. Two letters came with the trunks. They’re on the table over there. And the smallest of the trunks is still locked. They do not appear to have sent a key. would you like me to send up one of the footmen to break it?”

“Let me see what the letters say before I decide. ”

“Very well, milady. ” She dips a curtsy, then departs, leaving me alone with a very ill-tempered crow who is trying to shred his cage with his wicked-looking beak.

I hurry to the table and pick up the first letter. even though I recognize the reverend mother’s handwriting, I turn the note over and examine the seal. Annith has a wealth of tricks for opening correspondence, and she has taught me the signs to search for if I suspect tampering, but I see none of them on this seal. It is the same black wax the convent always uses, smelling faintly of licorice and cinnamon, and it is all in one piece, with no smaller, thinner layers to indicate it has been resealed. Satisfied, I tear open the seal, hoping for a new assignment. There are so very many here at court whose throats I would happily slit.

Dearest Daughter,

I hope this finds you well and adjusting to life at court, and I trust your training at the convent is serving you well.