Igniting Darkness (Courting Darkness Duology #2) - Robin LaFevers Page 0,177

cleverness, don’t you?”

I say nothing, but move numbly to take my place at the table. I want nothing more than to snatch Charlotte from her chair and steal her from the room, but there are far too many of d’Albret’s men here to do that.

And she would just run back.

Truly, he has won. And before we’d even begun the game.

 Chapter 100

Genevieve

The first indication that something is amiss is General Cassel’s face growing pale. It is the closest I have ever seen to him showing fear.

I cast a quick peek over my shoulder to find Maraud standing in the doorway of the king’s audience chamber. His height, the confident set of his shoulders, the proud tilt of his head all cause him to stand out among the other nobles and courtiers who have come for a chance to petition the king. He is dressed as finely as any of them, if more somberly.

The steward approaches, intending to show him out, but Maraud leans close to confer with him. Seeing this, General Cassel steps from behind the throne and begins striding to the door.

No. He will not silence him again. The knives against my wrists and left ankle are solid and reassuring as I quickly make my way toward Maraud. He looks up just then and sees Cassel. He utters something else to the steward, who nods, then escorts Maraud toward the king, careful not to cross paths with the approaching general. I switch directions and aim for the throng of people between them, an added buffer if needed.

When they reach the throne, the steward introduces Sir Anton Crunard, and the room grows hushed.

“Your Majesty.” Maraud’s bow is low and courteous.

“Sir Crunard.” Bewilderment lurks behind the king’s courteous welcome.

“I have come to bring your attention to General Cassel’s deceitful and false conduct on the battlefield and petition that he be made to answer for his crimes.”

The regent pushes her companion out of the way to better see what is happening.

“Crimes? That is a very harsh word.”

“Murder and dishonor are very harsh things, Your Majesty.”

The king’s expression darkens. “Are you not a member of the family responsible for betraying my lady wife?”

“I am the son who was held hostage in order to force the late chancellor to commit such an act.”

Like a hound catching a scent, the king searches out the regent. “I thought you said the queen’s claim was false? Her version sounded remarkably like this man’s.”

Maraud does not give the regent a chance to spew more lies. “I do not know what claim the queen made,” he says. “But my captors were fond of reminding me that my father betrayed the duchess because of the sword the regent held over my head.”

The king’s face grows sharp with interest. “That is precisely as the queen tells it.”

“What the queen could not have known was that even when my father complied with the regent’s demands, she did not release me as promised. She gave the crown’s word and did not honor it.”

The king’s hand grips the arm of his chair.

“If that is true,” the regent challenges, “then how do you come to be here?” It is hard to say whether she truly wishes to know or is merely stalling for time to plot out her response.

“I will gladly tell you, although I don’t believe it is something you will wish to share with the entire court.”

“Leave!” the king commands the assembled courtiers.

As the room clears, he glances at me, his eyes unreadable. I lift my chin, but he does not order me to go. Mayhap he is remembering my own recounting of similar events.

The king’s council remains. “Now.” The king gestures to Maraud. “The room is yours.”

General Cassel steps forward, no longer able to remain silent. “Your Majesty should not indulge this man’s lies.”

“But surely he should hear of crimes his own general has committed in his name,” Maraud counters.

The general’s face grows red, and he takes another step forward.

“General!” the king says sharply. “If you cannot get ahold of yourself, you may wait outside.”

Maraud returns his attention to the king. “The story starts on the battlefield of Saint-Aubin-du-Cormier, where my brothers and I fought alongside Duke Francis. It was”—Maraud’s lips twist in a wry smile—“a rout, clear to all of us on the field that Your Majesty’s forces had won and the best course of action was to surrender and save further bloodshed.”

“Which the duke did.” The king sits with his elbow on the arm of his chair, listening intently.

“As we all