Courting Darkness (His Fair Assassin 4)

There is little time to enjoy that victory, for Maldon the Pious, no doubt wondering at the delay, pokes his head into the room. He does not see me, but sees the two men sprawled upon the bed. He swears in disgust.

“These are our lord’s own sisters.” His hoarse whisper is thick with revulsion, and for that, I hate him a little less. As he draws near the bed, he reaches out a hand for each man, intending to pull them back. Ultimately, it is his decency that is his undoing. I have ample time to slip up behind him, loop my rope around his neck, and jam my knee into his back, eliminating his balance. He is not tall, but he is thick with muscle, and I must work to maintain my hold. After a few moments’ struggle, he grows still, drops to his knees, and raises his chin. Startled, I loosen my grip enough that he is able to speak.

“Do not make it quick,” he gasps hoarsely. His tunic gapes slightly, revealing the faint traces of thick white scars at the base of his neck.

“If you wish a more painful penance, I will not deny you.” With my hands still pulling on the rope, I stretch two fingers out to twist the black stone on my ring, uncovering its single sharp point. When I jab him with it, his eyes widen. “Poison?”

“Not just any poison, but heretic’s lament. It will spread through your limbs like a holy fire.”

His face relaxes into a smile that, while not unexpected, is unsettling nonetheless.

“Down!” From the corner, Lazare’s voice cracks across the room like a whip.

I let go of Maldon and drop to the floor, feeling the air above me stir as something passes over my left shoulder. I roll to the side, then rise to a crouching position just in time to hear a dull thunk. I wait for a beat, maybe two, but no more weapons appear, so I cautiously rise to my feet.

Lazare stands near the window, staring down at the Mouse, crumpled at his feet.

I step around Maldon, whose body is stretched out in agony, his lips twisted in a grimace of pain, and kneel next to the Mouse. “I had planned to let him live.”

“I would not have interfered with that plan if he hadn’t tried to skewer you with your own knife. I don’t want to have to answer to Beast for that.”

I look down into the Mouse’s face. I had wanted to spare him. To give him another chance at life—?a life away from the influences of my family.

When his heart finally stops beating, his soul slowly rises from his body, timid and uncertain. That is when I realize he feared retribution if he took the chance I offered him. “You are safe now,” I whisper, catching his attention. “You have gone where they can no longer reach you.”

His presence . . . expands is the only word I can call it, growing lighter, more buoyant, and he floats up to the far corner of the room.

When he is gone, I turn to find Lazare’s shrewd eyes filled with something akin to wonderment. I scowl at him. “What?”

He shakes his head slightly. “That’s some gift your god has given you.”

I snort. “I am not sure it is a gift to be able to see so deeply into men’s hearts. Most of them are dark and grim beyond bearing.”

“I’ll not argue with that,” the charbonnerie mutters.

Just then, Maldon finally succumbs to the poison. His soul bursts from his body as if being released from bondage, and the room is filled with a sense of remorse and self-loathing so thick that I am sure I could grasp it in my hand.

“What is that?” Lazare whispers.

“You can feel it?”

He nods, then almost shudders. “It’s uncanny.”

“It’s Maldon,” I say quietly. “Even as he was compelled to horrible deeds, he repented of them, but it was not enough, and his soul knows it.”

Instead of approaching, as most souls do, Maldon’s hovers just above his own corpse, as if milking every last drop of penance that he can. At that moment, death claims Yann as well, and his soul slips silently from his body, regarding me flatly, coldly. The sensations that pulse over me are not of remorse or regret, or even sadness at his own death, but more of a never-ending hunger that it will no longer be able to fill. It is as unsettling as anything I have ever encountered, and I am glad when it decides to ignore me and slowly drift away. I wonder if it will linger long and come to haunt the castle? I will have to take precautions that it does not.

As I stand there, my heart beats quickly, not with effort but with . . . exhilaration. They are gone. They will no longer be able to harm those I love. Justice has been served. Given the choice between protecting the innocent without Mortain’s grace or risking eternal damnation, I will protect others every time. My own true nature has nothing gentle or restrained about it. I am darkness made flesh, but it is the darkness of mystery, the endless night sky, and the deep caverns of the earth. It is the darkness that can love a man like Beast. The darkness that will protect those I love with my last breath.

“Are you going to stand there praying all night or are you going to help me with the bodies?” Lazare grunts.

I turn to see that he has already hauled le Poisson to the window. “I wasn’t praying,” I mutter as I hurry over to help. “I was gloating.”

“Ah, that’s all right, then. Please feel free to gloat while others do the work.”

“Why are you here, again?”

“Because Beast insisted I stay behind to cover your back, so cover your back I will. You can thank me for it later. Now grab his feet. Father Effram can’t spend the whole night waiting for us down in that cart.”

Once we have removed the bodies, Lazare slips away to help Father Effram dispose of them while I put the room to rights. When everything has been straightened, I build a small fire and toss in a handful of fragrant herbs to cleanse the pall of death from the room. I also sprinkle a faint trail of salt along the base of the walls to cleanse the room of any lingering spirits.

When every last bit of my work is done, I glance about the room one final time. Now that my own family mess has been dealt with, it is time to call Genevieve into service. With Beast and the others gone, I cannot be the queen’s only ally. Especially now that the regent has shown she is willing to dance with the devil in order to achieve her ends.

Chapter 94

Genevieve

s we lie with our limbs still entwined, my body is utterly unsatisfied. Four times now, I have taken a lover. Each time has been different, but each has satisfied something within me. The first time, with Margot, was curiosity—?and that was easily—?if not skillfully—?satisfied. The second was lust, pure and simple, for a well-shaped, handsome knight who I th

ought would satisfy not only my curiosity, but my flesh as well.

He did.

The third time was simply because I wanted it, although with Maraud the want felt far more like a need. A need that still plagues me. I brutally shove that memory aside and turn to my current lover—?the king. While I did not desire him, nor lust after him, I did give him what he wanted so that he would, in turn, give me what I want.

The king bestirs himself just then, his hand reaching out to stroke my back. He puts his arm around my waist and pulls me closer, putting his mouth up against my ear. “What magic have you wrought, dearest Gen? I am not a handsome man, nor a graceful one. I cannot even claim to be worldly, for all that I have tried to make up for my sheltered upbringing. But lying with you, I felt all of those things.”

“Your Majesty, I am honored that anything we did together brought you so much pleasure.” I turn around to face him. “That you should feel thus brings me great joy, Your Majesty.”

He reaches out and captures my hand, pressing a kiss upon it. “I wish to give you a gift such as you have given me. I will make you my court favorite and shower you with whatever you desire. Your own chateau. A new wardrobe. Jewels. Silks. A retinue of attendants. Name it, Genevieve, and it is yours.”

It is all I can do not to gape at him. I had hoped for some small reward, a gift perhaps, that I could refuse and instead ask for the convent. But he is offering me every gift I could ever imagine—?and all at once. “Your Majesty is far too generous.”

If I had time, I could simply refuse any of the gifts and continue our arrangement until the moment felt right to ask my own favor. But by sticking her long nose into the matter, the regent has forced my hand. She will want reports, ask questions, summon me. And word of those meetings and summons will inevitably work their way back to the king. I can think of nothing that would enrage him more than believing his sister was behind our affair. “Your Majesty, I have no need of a chateau, or jewels. Nor can I imagine what I would do with a troop of ladies trying to see to my needs. I fear all your gifts are too grand for the likes of me.”