Igniting Darkness (Courting Darkness Duology #2) - Robin LaFevers Page 0,171

here? You were supposed to leave when you had the chance!” While I have never borne her any love, it was her love for Julian that ultimately allowed me to live, and I would not wish my worst enemy a place in this household.

Her pretty pink lip curls. “Where was I to go? You killed my father. I had no one else.”

“There are other places you could have gone. Nantes alone has scores of convents that would have granted you sanctuary—”

“A nunnery!” she scoffs.

“Or the Arduinnites!”

“A pack of wild women who live in the forest? Surely you jest.”

I want to shake her shoulders till her teeth rattle. “Surely anyplace would be better than here. Julian would not want you to—”

“Do not dare speak his name! I gave you that knife to save him. Not you. You were supposed to offer yourself up on your father’s sword so he could live.”

“I tried.” My voice is as bleak as the memory. Oh, how I tried. “But Julian would have none of it.”

And then she is gone, and I am left standing in an ice-cold room, feeling as if I have stepped back through time, my past determined to follow me, no matter how far I run or how much I change.

 Chapter 97

That night, the guards escort me down to the great chamber for supper. It is a large room with a raw-beamed ceiling and a carved wooden screen that separates the kitchen from the chamber itself. The fireplace, which takes up one entire wall, does little to warm the cavernous space. Iron chandeliers fashioned in the shapes of stag antlers hang from the ceiling, thick yellow candles impaled on the points. The effect makes the entire holding feel like one large dungeon.

I am given a seat at the far end of the high table, the only person other than Pierre to be given a place there. I am surprised that he does me this much honor.

I take a sip of wine from the heavy wooden goblet and cast my gaze over the men. Most of these faces are new to me, with only a handful that I recognize. They are not as unruly and belligerent as the men I am used to serving my family. Mayhap they are tired. Or wary.

When the first course is set before us and the men turn their attention to their dinners rather than the high table, I ask Pierre, “How long will we stay here?”

He spears a piece of the fish with the tip of his knife and places it in his mouth. “Until you tell me where our sisters are.”

I hold his gaze a beat longer, then apply my own knife to my meal. “We shall be here a long time, brother.”

He smiles as he spears another chunk of sole. “We’ll see.”

I do not like that smile, not at all, but he is also very good at bluffing and boasting when he has no reason. I change the subject. “Will your other estates be able to manage without your oversight?”

He laughs, and I vow, a good-natured Pierre is far more unnerving than a foul-humored one. “Are you so very eager to get on the road so you may try to escape?” He wags his knife at me. “I would advise against it. My men have orders to shoot if you dare to break out of the riding line.” He takes a drink of wine. “To maim, not kill,” he clarifies. “Sadly, you are too valuable to kill, although it would give me great pleasure.”

“Let the girls remain where they are.” I pitch my voice low so he must lean closer to hear it. “They are too young to marry, nor do you even need them to sign the betrothal contracts.”

“I need them to control you.”

Keeping my eyes on my trencher, I smile, making full use of my dimples. “Ah, but you’re wrong. I came here of my own accord. I could have escaped many times and chose not to.” When he looks at me in disbelief, I quickly name half a dozen places on the road I could have gotten away.

“You lie.” But there is no heat—or conviction—behind the words.

I wag my knife at him, copying his earlier gesture. “You’re hoping I lie, but regardless, the queen has burned her bridge with the king. She will not be able to offer the protection I wanted for the girls. So now, once more, it is down to you and me. My sisters stay where they are,