Igniting Darkness (Courting Darkness Duology #2) - Robin LaFevers Page 0,168

fought?

Unless . . . I remember the look the regent and Pierre exchanged, as if a debt had been settled. I know that Rohan and Pierre were allies in the rebellion, and had hoped that once I was at Pierre’s holding, I could find proof of that. But now I wonder if I might catch a much larger prize.

 Chapter 95

Genevieve

Watching Maraud say goodbye to his father has put me in mind of my own family. How are they faring? Are they all still alive? It seems as if I would know if they weren’t. Surely someone would have sent word to the convent—but with what Sybella told me about the former abbess, who is to say the news would have reached me?

That is why, as we draw closer to Nantes—and the village where I grew up—I decide I must see them. Besides, I know all about Maraud’s family, including its secrets. It is only fair that he know about mine. I want honesty between us, and if he cannot accept the nature of my family, then I must know.

My village has grown since I left ten years ago. And even while it is different—six more houses, a larger smithy, a market square we did not have before—it feels the same as well.

My family’s inn has not changed. The roof still needs fresh thatch, although the walls have been recently washed with lime, and smoke chugs from the square chimney. My palms grow damp with anticipation. What if they hoped to never see me again?

And what shall I tell them when they ask what great things I have done with the life they so selflessly guided me to?

The pit of my stomach feels hollow as I realize this was a most poorly thought out idea. I glance over at Maraud, who is watching me. “Let me go in first, lest we shock them all.” I wipe my hands on my skirts and step inside.

After the bright light of midday, the inside of the tavern is so dark I must let my eyes adjust. The low, dark-beamed ceiling seems to suck up whatever light gets in through the wooden shutters and door. Once I can see more clearly, the first thing that greets my eyes is the thick, sturdy figure of Sanson, standing behind the counter, his meaty arms wielding a knife with precision as he prepares two chickens for the soup pot. Is that gray hair peppering his beard?

He lifts his head. “May I help you?”

Panic runs along my spine. He does not recognize me. “That depends,” I say, my voice unsteady. “Do you have any stray cats that need feeding?”

He looks at me again—really looks—the knife growing still in his hand. “Genevieve?” My name is uncertain on his tongue.

“In the flesh!” I intend the words to sound saucy, as my aunts might say such a thing, but it comes out in a wobble. Then he is wiping his hands and coming out from behind the counter, his beefy arms opening wide just before he clasps me in a massive hug that is like being swallowed by a tree trunk.

“We thought never to see you again.” He turns away from me and bellows, “Bertine! Come see what the cat’s dragged in!”

And then she is there, my mother. The woman who invited Death to her bed on a dare. She is the same, but different. Softer in some places, harder in others. Her warm brown eyes have more wrinkles at the corner, but from laughter rather than hardship.

She knows me instantly, clapping a hand over her mouth in surprise before running to me and gathering me in her arms—even though I am now nearly half a head taller than she is. Her arms feel the same as they always have, warm and welcoming. The most accepting place in all the world.

“I was not sure you would ever return to us,” she says at last.

“I have not had a chance to before now. My work has had me in France for the last five years.” By this time, my aunts have gathered round, every one of them needing to hug me and pat me with their own hands.

“Come.” My mother pulls me to one of the tables. “Tell us of your adventures.”

“I will, Maman, but first I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

* * *

Hours later, my mother finds me sitting outside in the back of the tavern, leaving Maraud to fend for himself among my adoring aunts. As she sits down