Igniting Darkness (Courting Darkness Duology #2) - Robin LaFevers Page 0,17

you know of him?”

“That he, too, betrayed the queen and pledged his loyalty to you. Although,” I add, “the cost was far greater than gold.”

“What do you mean?”

“Surely any man’s sole surviving son is more precious than coin?” Again my mind goes to Maraud and how his father’s betrayal consumed him. It is on the tip of my tongue to ask why the king is questioning me, but my own situation is too precarious.

He places the vial of scent back on the tray with such force that I fear it has shattered. He looks at the wall behind me with such thinly disguised longing and revulsion that it is all I can do not to glance over my shoulder.

“You did not know?” I am so surprised by my realization that it comes out as a whisper.

“It is my kingdom! Are you suggesting I do not know what transpires in it?”

“Of course not, Your Majesty, but the regent has been known to—”

“I am the one asking the questions. You speak at my sufferance.”

The words are so out of character for him, so completely outside any way he has ever acted before, that my mouth snaps shut. I lower my eyes. “But of course. I am here to serve you.”

He casts a sullen glance my way. “But are you?” His voice is low and still thrums with anger.

“Yes,” I say simply. “It has always been my intent. The convent’s as well.”

“They sent you to my bed?”

“No, they sent me to serve you. That was my only instruction.”

He takes a deep breath, nostrils flaring as he pinches the bridge of his nose. When he looks up again, there are so many emotions and conflicts seething in his gaze that I cannot identify any of them. “What am I to do with you?”

“What do you mean, Your Majesty?” I keep my voice light and innocent, as if I am not fearing punishment with every breath I take.

“I mean, I have longed for you for years, finally have you, and now I find it has been like wanting a piece of rotten fruit.”

I want to bristle at the comparison, but his mood leaves no room for such indulgences. “Rotten, my lord?” I give thanks that I have had years of experience practicing my sheep’s face.

“Yes.” He steps closer and places a finger in the hollow of my throat, one of the most vulnerable of spots on the human body. The touch is in such contrast to his mood that it is hard not to flinch. “Since you seem to know so very much, tell me.” His fingers drift upward. “What moves has your convent made against France?”

When his fingers tighten around my chin, it is all I can do not to grab him, throw him to the ground, and leave him gasping for breath. But it would not do anything to help me fix what I have broken. And while I am perfectly happy to leave him on the floor, it is not fair for others to have to clean up my mess. I will wear this mask a little longer. “None that I know of, Your Majesty.”

“Then why were you sent here?”

Small truths, I remind myself. “I have asked myself that question for many years now, sire. At first, I thought we were to collect information—”

“A spy.” His fingers tighten, not in threat, but in anger.

I shrug. “All kingdoms spy. However, we were also given instructions to not risk exposing ourselves by reaching out to the convent, so any information we gathered was essentially useless. It was more to educate ourselves on the leanings of the French court.”

“What information did you learn here at court, Genevieve?”

What to tell him? The truth of the last three days or the lie I believed until then?

I remember the look on his face a moment ago—the gaping hole he himself cannot see. Mayhap that is a path out of this mess. The one crack in his defenses that I can slip through. “I learned that Your Majesty is honorable and chivalrous. More so than your advisors—especially your sister—would have you be. I learned that you have a formidable will and a mind of your own. You do what you think is right, no matter others’ opinions.”

His grip on my chin loosens to the point of a caress. “Flattery,” he scoffs, but that does not hide the hunger I see there. The need he has for someone to recognize his independence and good intentions.

“Far more than flattery, Your Majesty.