Igniting Darkness (Courting Darkness Duology #2) - Robin LaFevers Page 0,188

slightly perplexed. “Because you are a woman.”

It is the very answer I expected, yet it infuriates me all the same. “And women do not understand chivalry? What, in the name of the saints, do you call leaping on a horse and riding after my sister? What do you call gathering arms and putting down a rebellion for our queen when she was not allowed to do so herself? What do you call moving heaven and earth to try to protect innocent children? Men who have done those things have had tales told about them for hundreds of years, but when I do it, you must consult with someone over the proper chivalrous response?”

“That is not what I meant.” He looks extremely uncomfortable.

“It may not be what you meant, but it is true nonetheless.”

He opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again. “I . . . You make a good point. But what I mean by you being a woman is that you have a staked interest in whether or not I believe you. You are not impartial. It is like asking a thief whether or not he stole. I feel others will be able to discuss this issue without the prejudice of your sex.”

I turn from him, biting my own tongue for fear what anger will cause me to say. I begin shoving my plainest gowns into my pack. When I am finally able to speak, my voice has lost its sharpness. “You asked earlier if I was suggesting that you ride out with me. The answer to that is yes. I am suggesting precisely that. You were unfairly sheltered as a boy and young man, given no chance to see the world, with all its warts and muck, as others were. You have not experienced firsthand the injustices that exist beyond the palace walls. Perhaps it is time to fix that.”

“You wish me to accompany you on this rescue you are planning?”

“Yes. But only if you hurry. I am leaving within the hour.”

 Chapter 107

Sybella

Fortune smiles on me again on the third day as the skies open up and release a torrent of rain, forcing us to stay inside. Since I have learned all I can about the outer defenses, it is time to turn my attention to what the keep itself has to offer up.

“But why do you want to be down in the storerooms?” Jamette asks in a plaintive whine.

“What else have you got to do?”

“I don’t know. Drink wine. Play draughts. Embroider. Anything that involves being in front of a fire and warm.”

I glance at her over my shoulder. “The exercise will do you good. You have grown soft and pasty-looking.”

Her mouth snaps shut, and she looks down at her bodice. It is not true. If anything, she has grown sharp and brittle, as if a single blow could turn her into fragments. But arguing with me gives her an outlet for all the bilious humor that is eating away at her.

“Besides,” I say more gently, “the keep is old and drafty, and I wanted to see if there were any tapestries or bedding or carpets we could use to help keep out the cold air.” That reasoning appeases her somewhat. “You take that side, I’ll take this one.”

She nods and moves off toward the right, while I veer left to where the stored items look distinctly unlike bedding or tapestries.

“You should leave,” I tell her.

She snorts. “My life is worth nothing if I leave you alone.”

“I don’t mean this minute. I mean leave the holding.”

“I already told you, I’ve nowhere to go,” she says as she wrestles with a large roll of heavy fabric.

“And I have told you that you are wrong about that. There is only death for you here, Jamette, be it a fast one or a slow one. You are too young to resign yourself to this fate.” I see a stack of barrels and draw closer.

“Is that not our lot in life? To resign ourselves to fate?”

“No. We must fight and push and shove. Put our hand on Fortune’s wheel to give it our own spin.”

Her mulish gaze is joined by something else—something too feeble to be called hope, but interest, mayhap. “And how does one do that?”

“By leaping.” The barrels hold wine and cooking oil. Beside them are vats of tallow. In short, a wealth of substances that will cheerfully catch fire.

She glances to where I’ve been staring. “You have grown mad again.”

I casually turn to my right and examine