Grave Mercy (His Fair Assassin 1)

Author: Robin LaFevers

I let myself into the main chamber, then quickly cross to my own room. Once inside, I shut the heavy door and bolt it.

My bed is empty but messed, as if it has not been made since the day I left for Nantes. There are candles but no fire in the hearth from which to light them. I waste precious minutes setting flint to tinder so I can have some light in the dark corridors beyond. My hands are trembling so badly that it takes five tries before the tinder catches. when at last a small fire burns in the grate, I light a candle, then head for the wall near the fireplace.

I stare at it, wishing I had thought to ask Beast how he got it to work. I poke at the bricks one at a time until one gives way, just a little bit, but enough to release the spring that holds the stone door so tightly shut. I put my shoulder to the revealed door and push. It gives perhaps an inch. Grunting, I push again, bracing my feet on the floor and throwing my whole body into it until it finally moves enough for me to slip through.

I am not sure where to begin my search, for if Duval was up and walking, he could be anywhere. He could even, I realize, be gone from here. Although if Crunard had caught him, surely I would have seen his head on a pike at the city wall.

The thought has my heart plummeting like a stone, and I push away from the door and cast out my senses, searching for Death, afraid I will find it. when I do not, I allow myself to draw my first deep breath since reaching my chamber. Thus encouraged, I begin winding my way to the spot where de Lornay and Beast found Duval the first time we came here. A sharp lance of pain bites through me as I think of those two, but I push it aside. Saving Duval is my goal now.

I get lost twice, then finally the feeble light from my candle shows a corner of a blanket. Afraid to hope, but unable to stop myself, I drop to my knees beside him. He still breathes, but it is a shallow, labored breathing. I feel the beat of his pulse. It is thin and going faster than a hummingbird’s wings. “My lord,” I whisper.

His head turns toward my voice and his eyelids flutter weakly.

Not too late, not too late beats in my breast and pounds through my veins. I do not know if it is a prayer or a plea or a demand.

I put my hands on the sides of his face, savoring the rough scratch of his whiskers. I lean down and place my lips on his and kiss him.

His lips are dry and cracked, but I do not care. I can taste the poison. I cover his mouth with my own, deepening the kiss, kissing him as Beast kissed me — thoroughly, wantonly, as if I am gulping the finest wine from a silver goblet. My heart soars when I feel him stir beneath me.

Then he opens his mouth and our tongues meet, a shocking sensation as I allow him in. My hands upon his cheeks grow numb, as do my lips. I kiss him and kiss him, wanting to draw every drop of poison from his body into mine. when his eyes finally open and he murmurs my name against my lips, I laugh, and the exhilaration I feel spills from my mouth into his. Needing to look at him, to see his face, I pull back — but not too far.

His eyes are clouded with desire and joy. His skin already seems less pale to me. He reaches up and tucks a stray hair behind my ear. “I did not expect to find you here,” he says.

It takes me a full minute to realize that here does not mean Guérande but that he thinks he has traveled into the realm of Death. “You are alive, my lord. ” I cannot help it. I laugh with triumph as I say the words.

He frowns, then tries to sit up as he remembers. “The duchess is safe,” I tell him. “She is safe and well guarded by half the garrison from Rennes. You did it, my lord. François reached us in time. You saved her. ”

He closes his eyes and draws a deep breath. “Then I may die in peace. ”

“You are not dying. You were, but no longer. ” At his puzzled look, I lean down once again. “I will save you,” I whisper against his lips.

As I slip out of the rough, dark gown, I realize I have only the vaguest idea of how a woman lies with a man. even so, I cast my shift aside and gently push Duval back down — it takes no effort at all. Slowly, I lower my body onto his so that every part of us is touching. My head rests on his chest and my feet lie atop his shins. He is warm, too warm, and everywhere his skin flinches and trembles. My hand goes to the scars on his chest, the one just over his heart. I place my hand there, savoring the stronger, steadier beat.

I know he is growing stronger when he is able to pull me closer.

His hands roam over my back, tracing my scar. I start to pull away, then realize I do not care. As his arms gain strength, his fingers travel in delicious trails along my back. everywhere my skin touches his, it flutters and tingles, but whether it is from the poison moving from his body to mine or simply my own response to Duval, I do not know.

Sometime later, I am the first to stir. I lay there, savoring the slow, steady beat of his heart as it thumps against my chest. when I open my eyes, I see his skin no longer has the gray pallor that heralds death. I feel damp, as if I have walked through a heavy mist. Small beads of the now harmless poison coat my skin like sweat. Just like a bezoar stone, I have neutralized its deadly effects.

As the fog of our lying passes, it clears the way for thoughts other than Duval. I sit up. “Isabeau!” Panic jolts through me, but Duval’s hand clamps on my waist and pulls me back.

“She is safe,” he murmurs.

I stare down at him. “How can you know? I believe Crunard — ”

He lifts his fingers to my lips, quieting me. “She is gone from here. ”

My heart lurches. “You mean she is dead?”

He laughs and gives a rueful shake of his head. “No, dear assassin. She was spirited out of the palace while Crunard slept. ”

I push out of his arms and sit up. “How? How did you manage this?”

He folds his hands behind his head and looks up at me. “The morning you left, I woke feeling better. I knew Crunard must be planning a trap and that I had little time before he sprung it. I went to François and ordered him to fetch the garrison from Rennes and bring them to Anne at Nantes. ”

“He did it, my lord. He reached us at the very hour of our need. ”

Duval smiles. “Good,” he says. “It is good to have him as an ally again. The next greatest need was to get Isabeau to safety. ” His face grows serious. “She is not well, not well at all. ”

“You do not need to tell me. ” Our eyes meet.

“Does Anne know?”

“Not the full severity of it, I do not think. ”

He sighs and scrubs his face with his hand. “To get her to safety, I employed the talents of the loyal Louyse, who would lay down her life for one of the duke’s children, and my lady mother, who owed her life to your mercy and her newly sworn oath. It took a while to convince my mother that swearing fealty to Anne also meant endangering her life for Isabeau, but once she saw how frail the girl was and learned how Crunard had set her up, she was only too willing to ruin his latest plans. ”

“So you snuck them out through the tunnels?”