Igniting Darkness (Courting Darkness Duology #2) - Robin LaFevers Page 0,198

she holds her body relaxed, I can feel the tension in her thrumming like a plucked bowstring.

“We didn’t have time enough to make those plans. Nor, I think, did he know what to expect.”

“Will he have charged in ahead of our arrival?”

I lift my shoulders. “It is possible, but he is only one day ahead of us, and all is quiet. Hard to believe that if he’d already acted, there wouldn’t be more activity.” Or dead bodies hanging from the battlements.

Sybella glances down at Charlotte, asleep in the saddle in front of her. “I would be glad if she could pass the night at an inn. She’s been through much and is exhausted. Do you think we dare risk it?”

I survey the village spread out around the keep like a thin petticoat. “I don’t see why not.” I lower my voice. “No doubt the king would not mind some more comfortable accommodations.”

Just then a young boy darts into our path, and I must rein in my horse to avoid trampling him. “What in the name of the saints do you think you’re doing?” I shout.

He doffs his cap, then flexes his knee. “Beg pardon, m’lady. I’m to tell you that—” He screws up his face as if trying to remember the words he was told to memorize. “That Rollo’s wolf is waiting for you at the White Hart Inn.” His face relaxes. “Can’t miss it. It’s the only one in the village.” He bobs again, then turns and scampers away.

Sybella shoots me an amused glance. “It appears your friend has posted a lookout for us, which is most considerate of him. Let us go avail ourselves of the White Hart’s hospitality. And see if we can find this—Rollo’s wolf.”

* * *

It turns out we do not need to look for him at all—he is seated in the great room of the inn, along with a number of familiar faces.

“You made good time,” Maraud says.

I glance at Sybella. “It was mostly over before we got there.”

“Except for the me-getting-out-alive part,” she says wryly.

Her praise—for that is what such words coming from her amount to—makes me squirm, and I turn the conversation back to Maraud. “How do you propose we get in? It’s as solid a fortress as I’ve ever seen, and the general does not scrimp on security.”

“You’ve had a chance to observe the layout?” Lazare asks.

“Yes.” Maraud proceeds to tell us all that he has learned about Cassel’s holding. “And we had to kill two guards to get that much,” he says under his breath when the king’s attention is elsewhere.

Sybella studies the lines he’s drawn on the table. “How many portcullises did you say there were?”

“Three. One at the main gate, then each of the postern gates has one as well.”

It is hard not to get discouraged, but I keep my face neutral. “How like the general to be so mistrustful.”

Sybella taps her finger on the left side of the drawing. “In this case, that works to our advantage.”

“How?” Maraud asks. Andry and Tassin look at her like she is daft. No, I realize, they have simply lost possession of their wits around her.

“It is made of wood, yes?”

“True, but solid beams, and not something we could hack our way through. Not before calling the attention of the guards.”

When she smiles, it is both beautiful and terrifying. “So we burn it.”

The king looks up sharply. “You can’t mean to simply march around the country burning down everything in your path?”

Sybella does not flinch. “If I need to.”

The king looks away first. “We could just announce our presence. Tell him that their king is here.”

I wince and try to remember he means well. Before I can intervene, Maraud snorts. “And give Cassel a chance to kill Beast and destroy the evidence of what he’s done or slip out one of the back gates?”

Affronted, the king opens his mouth. “He would not—” He stops.

Mayhap because the king is here at my invitation, I feel obligated to cover for him. “It need only be a small fire, correct?” I glance at Sybella, who does little to hide her amusement.

“But of course. Just a small fire.”

Maraud warms to the idea. “One that would cause a distraction and call the guards from the other gates long enough for us to sneak in.”

“And create a way out that isn’t through eight feet of solid stone,” Andry says.

Sybella looks over at Lazare, who sits off by himself, leaning against the wall. “Well?”

In one smooth movement, he