Or Pierre himself could have had more men waiting outside. Of course he did—?he never travels with less than half a dozen retainers, and often ten times that. True fear runs along my skin, drawing it taut. Have I sent Beast straight into a trap?

No. I clench my hands into fists, then open them again. No.

Pierre would not travel with that many men, not on this sort of mission. And Beast is not called Beast for nothing. When he was but fifteen years old, he rode into a d’Albret stronghold to ascertain the safety of his sister, Louise’s mother. He did not see her, but was met by twelve of d’Albret’s men-at-arms. He walked away—?leaving eight dead and four to limp back to explain their defeat to their enraged liege. The battle lust Saint Camulos gifted him with served him well that day, and it will serve him again. Pierre’s men are no match for it.

Besides, I remember how insulted I was by Ismae and Duval’s fussing and clucking over me. I’ll not insult Beast by doing the same to him.

But Sweet Jesu, this loving someone is hard. Might as well rip a piece of one’s heart from one’s chest and feed it to wild pigs.

* * *

By the time I reach Captain Dunois’s office, my shoulders are so stiff that my entire back aches. It is bad enough that Beast is not back yet, but now I must admit that I lied to Captain Dunois. And tell him of Pierre’s visit, flaunting my family’s sordid history.

I remind myself that Captain Dunois already knows my family’s history. He knows of the treacheries and deceits they have perpetuated in the past. He did not hold me responsible then, and he will not hold me responsible now.

But who is to say he should not?

Pierre’s visit today was an ugly personal matter. One that should never have come so close to the duchess or cost her any of her men. It should not truly have even concerned Beast, except that he stuck his big lumpen nose into my affairs months ago and has refused to budge from my side.

As I raise my hand to knock on the captain’s door, the knowledge that I am the one responsible for bringing this mess to the duchess’s door writhes in my gut like small white grubs in newly turned earth. I try to use my anger at Pierre to erect a shield between me and these unwelcome truths, but the anger is no match for the carefully honed edge of my self-loathing.

“Come in,” the captain calls out.

When I enter, he looks up from the letter he is penning, his face creasing in concern. “My lady, are you all right?”

“Yes, my lord.”

His frown deepens. “Do you have news of Beast?”

“Yes. And no.”

“Go on.” Although he hides it well, there is a faint note of unease in his voice.

For a moment, the enormity of what I must tell him overwhelms me.

The truth. As simply as possible. With no nooks or crannies for me to hide in. “The story has two parts.”

Dunois sets his quill on the desk and gives me his full attention. Because I wish to rush and get it over with, I force myself to utter the words calmly. “There has been an incident.”

Captain Dunois waits as patiently as a mountain, and I think of all the soldiers who must have confessed to him over the years. My hands clench the back of the chair in front of me. “My brother Pierre paid a visit today. He came upon me and my sisters in the garden.”

Dunois rises so quickly that the force of it shoves his chair back. “Your brother was here? How in God’s name did he get past the guards?”

“He and two of his men dressed in Viscount Rohan’s colors.”

“And so had free access to the palace grounds.” His eyes narrow. “But you are all unharmed?”

“Yes.”

He studies me carefully. “Are you certain?”

“I am fine.”

“Perhaps,” he concedes. “But you are also shaking.”

I let go of the chair and wrap my arms around my middle. “It was cold outside, and my search for Pierre’s means of entry took a while. That is the second part of the story. One of the guards had been murdered.”

Dunois runs his hands over his close cropped hair. “Where?”

“At the south gate. We should send someone for his body as well as arrange a double watch on both the south and east towers.”

Captain Dunois reaches for his sword. “Agreed. We should also double the guard on you and your sisters.”

Of all the responses I was anticipating, concern for my family’s safety was not one of them. “That brings us to the third part of the story.”

Something in my voice causes him to pause. “Beast?” he asks quietly.

“Beast. He was in the courtyard as I was pursuing my brother and his men. I . . . I asked him to follow them so I could return to my sisters. I was uncomfortable leaving them alone any longer than I had to.”

“In case your brother had additional men still on the premises.”

“Yes. Exactly so.”

He busies himself strapping his sword belt around his hips. “Which is why I think we should place an extra guard on your family.”

“Ismae, Lazare, and Yannic are with them now.”

Dunois nods. “They’re good, but Lazare needs to keep training every moment he can in order to be equal to the others of the queen’s guard. But that is a most excellent use of Yannic.” He pauses, “I wonder who else . . .”

I try to direct him back to the matter at hand. “But Beast has still not returned.”

“I am not overly concerned about Beast, my lady. Not yet anyway. I am

more interested in ensuring this does not happen again.”

“I appreciate your concern for my family, but my sisters are . . . They do not trust strange men easily. I fear your effort to help them will only cause greater distress.”

His gruff face softens, and in that moment, I see his full awareness of all that I have suffered, of all that I want to protect my sisters from. “What if they were not men?”

My heart shifts, expanding as Dunois’s astute kindness works its way in. “Who are these non-men you have in mind?”

“The followers of Arduinna. They have little enough to do while waiting to leave for France. But more important, it is the very nature of their service to their goddess—?to protect the innocent.”

I cannot believe I did not think of this sooner. Although to be fair, he is not aware of the longstanding animosity between the followers of Saint Arduinna and Saint Mortain.

For the first time in more hours than I can count, the knot inside me loosens. “That is an excellent idea, my lord. I will speak with them in the morning.”

He reaches for his gloves. “Now I’d best see to doubling the watch and sending someone for that poor soldier.”

“Thank you. Should I tell the duchess what has transpired, or would you prefer to do so?” It is not a conversation I relish, but neither will I shirk it.

He comes around his desk and busies himself pulling his gloves onto his blunt fingers. “That is not necessary.”

“Surely she should know.”

“She does know. She knew full well when she offered your sisters protection what Pierre was capable of. That’s why she offered them safekeeping. Besides, I am going to double the guard around the palace, and you are going to double the guard around your sisters. We have taken care of the problem. I do not inform her of every tactical decision I make, and this is no different.” He folds his arms and leans against the edge of the desk, considering me as he weighs some inner struggle. “You are not the only one to have an ugly family history, you know,” he says at last.

Tags: Robin LaFevers His Fair Assassin Fantasy
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