Another sideways glance, this one sly. “You’ll see.”

Maraud turned his attention toward the keep, taking in the training yard, the stables, the looming manor that had a more oppressive air than most hulking piles of stone. “You keep saying that. I think you’ve got nothing but bluster.”

The half-loaded supply wagons gave lie to that, but Maraud pretended he didn’t see them. Whatever the man was planning, it was a thoroughly provisioned affair.

“You are dangerously close to calling me a liar, Crunard. Be a shame to have to cut that clever tongue of yours out. Think of all the ladies who’d be disappointed.”

Maraud dropped the pretense. “Who are you planning to fight?”

“We. We will be fighting.”

“You still haven’t said against whom, and I am not inclined to sign up blindly for an ill-defined war against an unknown enemy.”

Without warning, Pierre brought his horse to a stop, then tossed his reins to a nearby lackey who scrambled his way. “Come with me.”

About damned time, Maraud thought as he dismounted and strode after Pierre. They reached the north tower of the keep, then waited for the guards to step aside.

“To answer your mewling question,” Pierre said, “we’re riding to Brittany. Day after tomorrow.”

“Brittany? Why?” Maraud stepped into the gate tower, the sudden lack of sunlight causing him to blink rapidly. The door clanged shut behind him, and his mind screamed, Trap!

Pierre made for the staircase. “Because a foolish fourteen-year-old girl negotiated it away when it wasn’t her right to do so.”

“You’re still mad she refused your father.”

Pierre whirled around on the steps to face him. “She refused us. Refused to give us what had been promised, time and again. Refused to give us that which we have as legitimate a claim to as she does.”

“There were other claims to the ducal throne with more legitimacy than yours.”

Pierre grinned. “Yes. And one of them plans to seize it.”

“With your help.”

Pierre’s smile widened. “And yours.”

Maraud laughed. “You’re daft. I’ve no interest in committing treason.”

They’d finally reached the top of the stairs. “Are you so very certain?” Pierre put his hand on the door. “It is, after all, a family weakness,” he said, then thrust it open.

A man stood at the window looking out over the courtyard. When he turned to face them, it was like a spurred boot to Maraud’s gut.

He had aged at least fifteen years since Maraud last saw him, although it had been only three. His eyes held three lifetimes more pain, and even when he smiled, it did not reach his eyes. “My son.”

Chapter 75

“I’m sure you two have much to catch up on, and I’ve no wish to intrude.” D’Albret shut the door, leaving Maraud alone with his father.

The father who’d reviled and rejected him for years, yet sacrificed everything he ever claimed was important—honor, loyalty, strength of purpose.

How was a man supposed to feel about a father who’d betrayed his country and cast away the family’s honor for him? Maraud had been pondering that question for over a year now and still had no answer, only deeply worn ruts in his brain. He folded his arms over his chest and stared at the old man—for he was clearly that now. No longer the towering pillar of virtue that had dominated the first half of Maraud’s life.

“I cannot fathom why d’Albret thinks I would be interested in seeing you.”

“Perhaps because he knows that we are all we have left.”

His father watched him as if drinking in his face, and Maraud wondered what he saw there. “We do not even have that. Why are you here?”

“Because they said they would help me find you if I aided their cause.” He left the window for the small desk in the center of the room.

Wanting to put as much distance between them as possible, Maraud leaned back against the door. “I didn’t need you to find me.”

“You are my last son. I could not let you languish in prison. Not after what I paid for you.”

Just the thought of what he’d paid still made Maraud sick. “It wasn’t a price I was willing to pay.”

His father placed his hands on the desk and leaned forward. “It wasn’t your choice.”

“So now that you’ve found me, you will betray your country again?” Maraud laughed at the sheer audacity of it. “I will have no part of this.”

“Then they will kill us both. It is that simple.”

“Whatever happened to death before dishonor? I seem to remember that was one of your favorite morality tales.”

“That was before death had taken so very much from me.”

Maraud could hear the pain in his voice, recognized it immediately. He folded his arms. “If only I had known all those years what a fraud you were. Although I am glad the others did not learn of it. They held in great value what you have tossed aside. It would pain them deeply.”

“Do not dare judge me,” his father said, coming out from behind the desk. “Not until you have stood and watched all your sons die. Then you can talk to me of honor.”

“I have stood and watched men who fought under my command die. I have stood and watched my own brothers slain. And yet I did not offer up my honor to the first man who asked.” Maraud swung around and pounded his fist on the door. “Let me out. We are done here.”

“Wait!”

Maraud ignored the old man and strode past the guard. He found d’Albret just outside the tower, almost as if he’d been waiting for him. “Why am I here?”

“Because you were the price he insisted on for helping us.”

“Well, he has seen me, your price has been paid, and now I will leave.”

Pierre laughed. “I don’t think so. While he has had much practice betraying his country, you are still a virgin at such things. We will keep you with us until Brittany is ours, lest you take it into your head to inform the king.” He took a step closer, placing his hand on his sword. “The real question is, must I put you in chains, or will the promise of killing your father be enough to keep you in line?”

Maraud stared into Pierre’s cruel face. He did not care about his father’s safety, but he did care about his country. “Threats against my father will be enough. You have no need of chains.” He would stay long enough to learn exactly what d’Albret was up to. Then he would do everything in his power to stop it.

Chapter 76

Sybella

We wait among the trees until Rohan’s supply wagon comes into view. The cart has a driver and two mounted guards. A lark sounds nearby. A moment later, a small silent missile from Yannic’s slingshot strikes the driver of the cart in the temple. He keels over, so quiet and sudden that the other horsemen keep riding before they realize he is no longer steering. Finally one of them g

lances over his shoulder. “Now what, Remy?”

When Remy doesn’t answer, the man returns to the wagon and peers down at his slumped companion. “How much did Remy have to drink last night?”

As the guard stands there pondering how drunk Remy might be, another silent missile emerges from the trees, this one striking his horse in its flank. It rears up in startled surprise, nearly throwing its rider, as it kicks and bucks, then bolts down the road.

The second mounted soldier calls out after the other, then quickly swings his horse around, his hand going for his sword as he rides back to the cart to see what is going on. Yannic sends a third missile out, this time hitting the horse in the shoulder, eliciting a similar reaction.

The sharp pebbles were Aeva’s idea. They surprise the horses, startle them much as a bee might, but do no lasting harm. We spent an hour debating the merits of hurting the horse or killing the man. In the end, Aeva assured us the effect on the horses would be both brief and forgettable. Since she knows more about horseflesh than the rest of us, we bowed to her judgment. It was much preferable to leaving a trail of bodies behind.

The rest of us emerge from our hiding places, each grabbing a small barrel and stuffing it into a sack, then we make a clumsy, obvious trail leading back to the castle. Better to let Rohan’s men think Marshal Rieux stole his powder and ensure no thoughts of hidden resistance or sabotage enter their minds.

Once we have stashed the powder, Beast brushes off his hands. “And now,” he says, “it’s time we go see if anyone from Marshal Rieux’s garrison has ventured out to meet with us.”

* * *

Beast leaves nothing to chance and sends two of his men ahead to be certain the message hasn’t gone astray and our proposed meeting place been compromised. They return shortly with news that all is clear and we proceed to the menhir that lies just south of the castle.

Tags: Robin LaFevers His Fair Assassin Fantasy
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