involvement in the ambush and the reason for that payment.”
* * *
I am careful not to let a whiff of the victory humming through my veins show. I keep my face downcast and sober, taking measured steps as I leave the audience chamber. Pierre is gone. He walked away from his claim. Is that all that was ever needed—telling the truth? Or is it something more?
The regent could be behind it, I suppose. Setting him up in some way to take the fall for their conspiracies. And I did not like the way she was looking at me. But for now, the king’s wrath at her is greater than his dislike of me, and that is a true victory. I cannot wait to tell Gen and the queen. And Beast.
As I reach the foyer, General Cassel falls into step alongside me. “What have you done with your brother?”
The force of his full attention is as solid as a rock. “Nothing. It is his own poor judgment that kept him from the meeting.” Even though my face and body are relaxed, every fiber of my being is attuned to him, the rhythm of his heart, the intake of his breath, even how often he blinks. Too many times, the unconscious change in those vitals is the only warning I have gotten. If Beast’s presence is like a cheerful mountain, the general’s is all serrated edges and menacing heights. His cool, predatory gaze makes me glad of the knives hidden in my sleeves.
“I do not like or trust you.” The deep timbre of his voice holds no craggy comfort like Beast’s, only the deep rumble of threat.
My mouth twists in amusement. “Nor I you.” I do not look at him, but I feel his brief flicker of surprise. If he had hoped to intimidate me, he will have to try harder.
“Women who do not know their place and are disloyal to their families are both unpredictable and useless. That is your one duty—fealty to your family, and you cannot even manage that.”
This time I laugh outright. “And here I thought our one duty was as broodmare.”
“Once you are handed over to your husband, yes. Until then, you owe fealty to your family. To do otherwise is to be without honor.”
I look at him then, allowing my disbelief to show plainly on my face. “Honor? This from a man who prefers to win wars by throwing gold at the enemy or their potential ally.”
He stops walking, shifting the mass of his body so that it partly blocks my path. I could keep going, but I would have to brush past him to do so. “You are either remarkably foolish or dangerously overconfident.”
“Or neither.”
He leans closer. I do not back away, which also surprises him. “What you are is a rogue assassin with allegiance to no one. Not even the Nine, whom you profess to hold dear,” he spits out.
“You know me that well, do you?”
“I know that you lie.”
“Of course I lie! I am neck deep in a court full of intrigue, advisors who wish my queen ill, power plays behind every corner, and political plots hatching like spring eggs. To not lie would be a fatal mistake.”
His eyes blink, holding something akin to admiration—or it would be, if I were not a mere woman. No, I realize with disgust. That is interest. The interest of a man who thinks he has just found a new enemy he must conquer. “We will find your brother and learn what has happened. You may rest assured.”
I resume walking. “You hold such scorn for the Nine. I must say I am surprised, as I would have taken you for an admirer of Saint Camulos.”
“I am an admirer of skill in war and battle. I have no need of saints.”
I smile. “Careful, they might hear you.”
He snorts in derision.
“Have you ever been to Brittany, my lord? I don’t recall your name among the generals we fought against in any of the campaigns.” If he thinks my change of subject odd, he does not say so.
“I was there once, a long time ago.” No hint of memory of his black deeds or remorse crosses his face. “The recent conflict was not important enough to pull me from my command in Flanders.”
I tilt my head. “And yet, here you are, with no skirmishes on the horizon.”
“There have been skirmishes aplenty since I arrived.”
“Touché. But surely none that require your military expertise.”
“Our king is young. He needs guidance. I will