Igniting Darkness (Courting Darkness Duology #2) - Robin LaFevers Page 0,15

her to believe that it was.”

“But who?”

“My assumption is Count Angoulême, the man acting as her liaison with the convent. But why he would risk making an enemy of the convent when he has long been our ally, I don’t know. I intend to speak with Genevieve more about it when I can.”

There is a rumble of commotion just outside her chamber and a sense of many heartbeats approaching. My eyes widen in alarm as I recognize one of them. “The king is here!”

“Fetch my chamber robe!” She throws off the covers and swings her legs out of bed.

As I help her into the robe, I talk quickly. “He will no doubt want to know if you were aware of the convent and my association with them. He has called in two of the bishops from Langeais. I tried to make the convent sound as inconspicuous as possible, but there is only so much innocence to be protested when serving death.”

She nods, eyes firmly fixed on the door.

“I think . . . I think finding me here will not soothe matters. It will be best if I remain out of sight.”

“I agree.” She waves her hand toward the garderobe. I have only a moment to secure my hiding place—then the deep voices are inside the room.

“Your Majesty.” The queen’s voice drifts up from the floor where she has sunk into a deep curtsy.

“My lady wife.” The king’s voice is cold and polite. “I tried to visit yesterday, but you had retired early. Are you unwell?”

From the tone of his voice, it is clear that he suspects it was an excuse to avoid him.

“It is just a passing malady. Please do not trouble yourself over it.”

“What if it is not some passing thing, my lady? What if it is something more diabolical than that?” This voice is deeper than the king’s.

“Bishop Albi. It is good to see you again, although pray forgive my state of dishabille. If I had known you were coming, I would have dressed myself with all the honor you deserve.”

“And yet you ignore his questions.” It takes me a moment to recognize the voice of the Bishop of Angers, the king’s confessor. “Why is that, I wonder?”

“I was not ignoring anything the good bishop said, but merely granting him full courtesy.”

“Why do you not share his concern that there is something more nefarious behind your illness?” the king demands imperiously. “Could it be that you truly do not know that one of your attendants is an assassin?”

After a thick moment of silence, the queen says, “My lord husband, I assure you—”

He speaks over her. “Did you know that Lady Sybella is an assassin from the convent of Saint Mortain?”

“I know that she serves the convent of Saint Mortain, yes. But as for her being an assassin—”

“Does she serve the patron saint of death or not?” The king’s voice rises.

“I just told you she did. But that is far different from being an assassin.”

“So you did know!” A brief, charged silence hangs in the air.

“Of course I knew.” When the queen answers, her voice is as close to deriding as I have ever heard it. “What sort of ruler would I be if I did not know all of my country’s customs and religious orders?”

“But she is an assassin!” The king nearly sputters his outrage.

“She serves the patron saint of death, just as our knights serve Saint Camulos and our scholars and healers serve Saint Brigantia.”

“No matter how you try to paint it with pretty words, she is an assassin, and you have brought her into your lord husband’s court,” General Cassel says.

“The Nine are fully sanctioned by the Church, and have been for hundreds of years.” The queen’s voice rings out firmly. “That they have fallen out of fashion in France does not change that.”

“Maybe it should,” the Bishop of Albi mutters.

“That you would think so speaks to your lack of piety, not ours,” the queen says coolly.

The king interrupts their exchange. “You used these worshipers of death?”

“It was war.” The queen’s exasperation hardens her words to steel. “We both used what tools we had available to us. Every noble house in Europe has some kind of poisoner or assassin to serve them. The Breton court is not alone in this. Besides, none of your people were assassinated, so the point is moot.”

“I have never used assassins.” The king’s voice is both boastful and petulant.

“That may well be true, but you had other tools in your arsenal