The innkeep appears with a fresh jug of wine and four more cups. “I’ll be back with your food in a moment. No need to be shouting clear across the room.”

“Thank you,” Valine tells him. She lifts her cup to Maraud. “Here’s to learning that you are alive.”

“So, where have you been?” Jaspar asks.

Will Maraud trust them enough to tell them the truth? “Here and there,” he says. “I spent some time down near Périgord.”

Something inside me relaxes a bit. Andry’s coins grow still and he swings his head back to Maraud. “That’s where we’re headed. They say d’Albret is hiring.”

Maraud carefully sets down his knife and spoon and pushes his plate away. “I’ve heard.”

Andry’s interest sharpens. “Then why are you here and not there?”

The look Maraud gives him is unreadable. At least to me. “I already have a job.”

Jaspar sighs and shakes his head. “That’s where Andry wants to go next. We’ve been hoping to dissuade him along the way. Maybe you’ll have better luck.”

“Why do you want to work for d’Albret?” Maraud gives Andry a probing look.

The other man peers down at the coins in his hand. “He’s hiring, and he pays well,” he says, then tosses back his wine.

Maraud does not look away. “There is a reason for that. You know what he’s capable of.”

Andry shrugs, but does not meet Maraud’s gaze.

“And you?” Maraud turns to the others. “Do you want to work for d’Albret as well?” It is as much a rebuke as it is a question.

“Not me,” Jaspar says around a mouthful of braised rabbit. “I’m thinking of returning to Brittany.”

“More’s the fool, you,” Andry grouses.

“Brittany?” Although Maraud’s voice does not change, his face grows alert with interest. “I thought all the mercenaries had been paid and dismissed.”

Jaspar raises a shoulder in a careless gesture. “Word is there’s new work to be had, and I’ve a mind to visit home again.”

A deep, rumbling voice comes from my left. “Place is crawling with English troops.” It is the first time Tassin has said anything all night. “Don’t like the smell of ’em,” he says. “They’re watching the borders, minding the ports—?why?”

Valine arches a brow in amusement. “They’re looking for someone, of course. It does not take a scholar to discern that.”

“Yeah, but who? And why?” The bulky man rolls his shoulders. “They failed us twice now when we needed ’em. A pox on them all, I say.” He drains his cup and falls silent again.

The awkward moment is quickly replaced by another when Valine turns to me. “And who are you?”

There are many answers I could give, but the truth will serve me best and be a warning to them all. “An assassin.”

Maraud chokes on the mouthful of wine he has just taken, and four disbelieving faces turn my way. It is the first time since they arrived that I have had their full attention. “Well played, Lucinda!” Jaspar says with a low whistle. “No one would ever suspect it.”

“That is the point, is it not?”

Valine turns a speculative gaze on Maraud. “So you’re an assassin now?” Her question is careful, the words weighted with some meaning I can sense but not fully discern.

Maraud folds his arms and tosses a smile at her. “Not me. I’m just the hired help.”

Tassin tilts his head, his chin at a belligerent angle. “If you are an assassin, why do you need him?”

“Although I know a hundred ways to kill a man, I am still a lone woman, which makes me an easy target on the road. His job is to get me there. My job is to kill.” Our gazes remain locked for another moment before he finally turns away.

The innkeep comes over to remove the last of our dishes. “I’m bolting the door and putting out the candles. If you want to see your way to your beds, you’d best come along now. If not, you’re welcome to stumble your way to ’em in the dark, just be sure you mind the stairs. They’re steep and narrow.”

“Well I, for one, am off to bed,” I tell the others as I rise from the table. I glance meaningfully at Maraud. “You should be too. We have an early start in the morning.”

Chapter 69

lie on the lumpy straw mattress, breathing deeply, as if asleep. Exhausted as I am from our ride out of the city, there will be little rest for me tonight. There are far too many ways Maraud could use his friends against me.

The pouch with the antidote is under my pillow, along with two daggers. My baselard is snuggled on the mattress next to me. They cannot steal the antidote and sneak away. Nor can they catch me unaware and try to wrest it from me. At least, not without a fight. And if it comes to that, I have the case with my poisoned needles hidden in my cuff.

It takes so long that I very nearly do fall asleep, but the faint rustle of someone rising from their bed jolts me fully awake. There is another rustle, and another. I curl my fingers around the dagger handles, careful not to change the rhythm of my breathing.

The floorboard at the foot of my bed creaks. More creaks follow, but they are the faint padding of bare feet, not boots. Not leaving, then.

After another hand span of minutes, I silently rise from my own bed. I slip one of the daggers back in its sheath but keep the other in my right hand. Moving even slower than they did, I pick my way to the door, then stop, pressing myself up against the wall. When I am certain they have not heard me, I slowly peer around the doorjamb.

And jerk back when I see them sitting in the hallway right outside. My heart thuds loudly in my ears. Did they notice me? When no one moves or calls a warning, I inch closer to the door.

“I still can’t believe you’ve been in a dungeon this whole time.” It is Jaspar who speaks. “Did you tell them who you are?”

Maraud’s no makes it clear the subject is closed.

Valine’s voice is easy to pick out among the others. “But why would—”

“I saw something. Right after the surrender. France had just captured the Duke of Orléans, and our side had agreed to terms. Two . . . noblemen offered their swords to General Cassel. He told them he had been ordered to keep d’Orléans alive, but had no such orders for them. He accused them of treason against the king and beheaded them where they knelt. I think it is he who was having me held.”

Vile oaths erupt all around. “Ride with us in the morning, and we’ll find out,” Jaspar proposes.

“I must finish this job first. But I want to know where Cassel is.”

“Flanders,” Jaspar says. “He has been overseeing the campaign in Flanders.”

Maraud swears. “That will make him hard to get to.”

“Hard, but not impossible,” Valine points out. “Is that where you’re headed?”

“After I finish up with the assassin.”

“What do you want us to do?” Jaspar’s offer drives home the full extent of their loyalty to Maraud.

“I want Andry and Tassin to find out why d’Albret is raising troops. I need to know what he is planning.”

“Why?” Tassin’s deep voice is calculating.

“He was most insistent that I join him. To the point of detaining me. Said the campaign would be of deep personal interest to me. I want to know what that means.”

Andry snorts. “Does he know you’re the most idealistic mercenary ever to ride with a company? Every campaign becomes of deep personal interest to you.”

There is a soft thud followed by an oof. Maraud’s elbow connecting with Andry’s ribs is my guess.

“Very well. What of Jaspar and me?” Valine asks.

“I want you to return to Brittany as planned. Find out who is putting out a call for troops. Join them if you need to, but find out why. And I would like to know who the English are searching for.”

“Is there anything else, my lordship?”

“Here.” Another oof. “You can polish my boots while you’re at it.”

Valine interrupts

their snickering. “Why not go yourself?”

“As I said, I am escorting the assassin north. Once I’ve done that, I’ll join you.”

Tags: Robin LaFevers His Fair Assassin Fantasy
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