want,” he snarls. “I am sick unto death of hearing what others think I should want.”
I glance briefly back at the painting. Of course he is. Once his father died, his sister effortlessly took up that mantle and now undermines him at every opportunity.
I think back to the audience chamber and General Cassel, so quick to voice his brutal opinions. To the Church advisors, equally quick to cluck and offer up their views and judgments. So few—if any—of them ever affirming his own.
He draws close again. “What I want is you. Why is that?” A note of confusion seeps out through his anger. “And why will you not come to my bed?”
“I see no signs of the man I liked and admired. I was drawn to his honor and his chivalry, and see neither of those things in this room right now.”
Not caring for my honesty, his lips grow thin. “How do you dare defy me?”
“Because I have nothing to lose.”
“Your life?”
I smile, amused for the first time since I entered the room. This amusement unnerves him more than anything else I have done. “One who serves death does not fear it.”
He abruptly steps away to pour himself a glass of wine. “My bishops say you and your convent reek of heresy. My general says I should execute you all for treason.”
I can only pray that my own behavior has given him a taste for defiance. “I have said that I will swear on the Holy Bible or any other relics of the Church that I have never acted against you or the French crown.” He does not need to know it was because I was never given the opportunity.
He falls quiet while he sips his wine. “Tell me, what do you know about the Lady Sybella?”
Not sure where this is leading, I answer cautiously. “As I told you, I left the convent before she arrived and only met her for the first time four days ago.”
Even so, I have learned much about her. Things he would be most interested in knowing.
“It is too bad,” he says, “because if you could shed some light on her character, it would do much to soothe my anger with you.”
“In order to do that, I would need to know her character, and I do not. If I were to tell you anything, it would all be speculation.”
“And what would you speculate?”
I stall for time in order to assemble my thoughts. “She is the one whose case you just decided on, no?” He inclines his head, watching me closely. “Well, I would speculate that she is a very good sister. Caring, protective—”
He seizes on that. “How would an assassin protect those she cares about?”
“In the same ways we all do. By anticipating and seeing to their needs, by placing herself between those and any who wished them harm. Much like she does for the queen.”
“What do you mean?”
Small truths, I remind myself. Small truths will help us all. “I have only been here a handful of days, sire, and have already heard the gossip about the queen and the regent. That the more Madame tries to draw the queen under her influence—”
He opens his mouth to say something, thinks better of it, then motions for me to continue. But the seed is planted. He is now wondering in what ways the regent is trying to manipulate his queen just as much as she tries to manipulate him.
“—the more Sybella offers herself as a target, using distraction and redirection to shift the regent’s attention away from the queen to herself.”
“And thus draw her ire,” the king muses.
“Yes,” I say with more encouragement than warranted, but I am relieved to have pulled his attention from Sybella to the machinations of his sister. “That is a large reason the regent dislikes her so.”
There is a knock on the door, and the chamberlain appears. “My lord, the Privy Council is assembled and awaiting.” He gestures toward the large set of double doors at the far end of the king’s salon.
“Thank you. I will be right there.” To me he says, “You must leave. I have business matters to attend to.”
“But of course, Your Majesty.” I curtsy my farewell, but he is already headed toward the council chamber.
At the door, he stops. “And, Gen, I will remind you: Do not say anything of your true role here. While I am most displeased with you, I do not wish you to get swept up in the repercussions that may come.”
No,