Igniting Darkness (His Fair Assassin 5)

“You are so certain she is in danger?”

I clench my fists so I will not throw my pack at him. “Yes, Your Majesty. I am completely certain of it. As are you.”

He makes a noise of disagreement.

It is only the brief flicker of shame that I see in his eyes that stops me from getting angrier. “Sire, ask yourself why d’Albret used so many extreme and underhanded methods to retrieve his sisters. Why not simply petition the king and be satisfied with his answer?”

“Because under the law they are his to—”

“They are his. That’s all he believes. He views them not just as his responsibility, as you believe, but as his possessions. He believes he owes them less consideration than he does his horse or hunting hound. That they are his to do with as he wants. To use in any way he sees fit to advance his power, form an alliance, slake his lust, or punish simply because he is angry.

“You are governed by honor and chivalry, Your Majesty, but he is not. I have seen it with my own eyes.”

“You have seen him this way with his sisters?”

“No. I have seen him this way with Sir Crunard, a man who by all measures is his equal both by virtue of his sex and lineage. When Crunard would not do as he bid, he set a half dozen men with swords upon him in answer to such perceived disrespect. When Crunard survived that, d’Albret sent an entire battalion of men to kill him or bring him back. When that failed, d’Albret then seized Crunard—from your own palace in Paris!—and forced him to take part in a rebellion. He held Sir Crunard’s own father hostage to force his cooperation.”

“You have made it clear that the man is a brute, but that is not against the law.”

I close my eyes so I will not fly at him in a murderous rage. “Isn’t it? Is not what General Cassel did against the law? Is not what your own sister did against the law? You were willing enough to punish her. You were willing enough to punish Sir Waroch when you thought he’d simply left his post without your leave. Is a woman’s safety so much less deserving of the law’s protection?”

“But Viscount d’Albret has done nothing to me—”

“To you. Is that what the standard is? If so, how easily you forget what both Crunard and I have told you—that he was involved in the rebellion. That he has allied with your sister time and time again to move against you. However, that is your choice to ignore, for it only endangers your own power and authority. What you have done with Sybella endangers her very life.”

“He would not harm her. She is his sister!”

I do not even try to mask my scorn. “Mayhap we have a very different definition of harm, Your Majesty. Or mayhap I have been wrong about you all this time.”

He looks so confused, so conflicted, that it touches some deep patience I did not know I possess. Or mayhap the saints themselves lend me theirs in this moment. I take a deep breath. “May we sit for a moment?” I motion to one of the low couches near the back wall.

I can see the relief in his eyes as he gives a brief nod and follows me to the couch.

“Thank you.” I settle into the seat. “May I tell you a story, sire?”

“Yes, but why are you taking my arm?”

In truth, I do not know. I am moving on pure instinct now. “I need a friend to journey with me on this particular story.” And while that is not true, I think that he will need one.

With his hand in mine, I begin. “What if I told you the story of a girl whose father was one of the richest lords in the land. He had everything, castles, money, children. He wanted for nothing.”

He looks at me in wonder. “Your father?”

I squeeze his hand. “No, sire. It is only a story.” When I resume talking, I brush my thumb gently over the top of his hand. “But no matter that this man had everything. He wanted more. And what he could not have, he wanted to destroy. He cared so little for his liege, that even though he promised troops, he held them back at the last moment. Even though his children were loyal to him, he abused them terribly, with cruel blows and even crueler torments. The girls were not spared, I fear, but received the most wicked treatment.”

His face pinches in distaste. “You cannot mean—”

“But I do, sire. The world is a cruel place, not only for poor girls with no one to protect their interests, but noble ones as well, when those who should protect them choose not to.

“And in this kingdom, in the house of this lord, there lived three daughters. One was nearly a woman grown, and had already suffered more than a man so nobly raised as yourself could believe. But she had two small sisters, girls who were young enough to have escaped such cruel intentions. So far.”

Against my palm, his pulse quickens. He does not like this story. Good. “And what if that oldest sister wanted to protect them from the same abuses she had suffered? What if that was the only thing that made all her pain and agony worthwhile?”

“I would say it was a noble aim. Did she have no brothers or other men to help her?”

“No. She did not. The one brother who could have helped her was no better than her father.” I hear his quick intake of breath then, feel the moment he understands who and what this story is about. “So she did the one thing she could do—through dedicated and loyal service to her liege, she gained protection for her sisters.”

He pulls his hand out of mine then and shoves to his feet, distraught. “And what has this story to do with me?”

I do not need to answer—he already knows. “Collect what evidence you need, search for proof among people who are highly skilled at ensuring that there is none. Ignore what your own heart is telling you. But I will ride today to retrieve Sybella.”

“My heart?”

Unable to sit still a moment longer, I rise to collect my riding boots. “You know, deep inside, that what I say is true, but either you do not care, which I do not want to believe, or you feel you need proof, which I may never have. Or by the time we find it, it will be too late.”

My words find their target, and he blanches. He pushes away from the mantel and runs his hands through his hair. “What would you have me do, Genevieve? Ride out with sword in hand and slay this dragon? That is the stuff of tales and legends, not something that kings do.”

“Perhaps your father did not do it, and his father did not, but kings have done precisely that. Knights—such as Sir Crunard and Sir Waroch—do it all the time.” I take a step closer, either anger or clarity burning through my caution. “Mayhap that is precisely what you should do. Ride out with me and see for yourself what happens in your kingdom under your own nose.” My breath is heavy when I finish, my anger mixing with fear at how completely I have overstepped my bounds.

His brow is creased in thought. “Perhaps I will speak to Sir Crunard again and hear his thoughts.”

“Yes!” I throw up my hands. “By all means! Speak to him. But also ask yourself why you will not listen to me. Why you will not believe me.”

He looks slight

ly perplexed. “Because you are a woman.”

It is the very answer I expected, yet it infuriates me all the same. “And women do not understand chivalry? What, in the name of the saints, do you call leaping on a horse and riding after my sister? What do you call gathering arms and putting down a rebellion for our queen when she was not allowed to do so herself? What do you call moving heaven and earth to try to protect innocent children? Men who have done those things have had tales told about them for hundreds of years, but when I do it, you must consult with someone over the proper chivalrous response?”

“That is not what I meant.” He looks extremely uncomfortable.

“It may not be what you meant, but it is true nonetheless.”

He opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again. “I . . . You make a good point. But what I mean by you being a woman is that you have a staked interest in whether or not I believe you. You are not impartial. It is like asking a thief whether or not he stole. I feel others will be able to discuss this issue without the prejudice of your sex.”

I turn from him, biting my own tongue for fear what anger will cause me to say. I begin shoving my plainest gowns into my pack. When I am finally able to speak, my voice has lost its sharpness. “You asked earlier if I was suggesting that you ride out with me. The answer to that is yes. I am suggesting precisely that. You were unfairly sheltered as a boy and young man, given no chance to see the world, with all its warts and muck, as others were. You have not experienced firsthand the injustices that exist beyond the palace walls. Perhaps it is time to fix that.”

“You wish me to accompany you on this rescue you are planning?”

“Yes. But only if you hurry. I am leaving within the hour.”