Igniting Darkness (Courting Darkness Duology #2) - Robin LaFevers Page 0,29

but he will gladly feed Sybella to those same wolves.

As he enters the council room, I catch a brief glimpse of two of the bishops and the regent, then hear the deep voice of General Cassel before the door closes. I stand there, aswirl in the dregs of the king’s tumultuous emotions. He still wants me but has accepted my boundaries.

He does not plan to expose my identity to the others. His father’s scorn is a festering wound, one poked at constantly by his sister. A wound is a weakness, and a weakness an opportunity.

There is a way forward here. The path is narrow and twisted and surrounded by thorns, but it is a path. With that in mind, I glance over my shoulder to see if the chamberlain is still about, but he is gone. The king’s suite contains four rooms altogether—a sitting room, his bedchamber, an oratory, and a private council room. I quickly dismiss the bedchamber that sits to the left of the Privy Council, as there is a good chance the king’s valet awaits him in the small adjacent dressing room.

Which leaves the room on the right. I hurry over and place my ear to the door. Silence. Cautiously, I open it. When I reassure myself that it is truly empty—no minor secretaries or scribes diligently tending to the king’s business—I slip inside. I head straight for the wall between this room and the council room. The outer walls of the palace are thick, but less so between rooms.

“. . . spoken at length with the other bishops,” the king’s confessor is saying. “And while it is true that the Nine were originally recognized as saints, that was hundreds of years ago. Much has changed since then, including a number of ecclesiastical positions and reforms.”

“In short,” someone—I think it is the Bishop of Albi—says, “it is an archaic and heathenish practice, and surely no longer orthodox.”

A murmur of voices talking over each other. A lone one finally rising above the others. “Sire,” the regent says, “how did you come to learn of the convent?” I hold my breath.

“A king has many spies and sources, Madame.” He uses her formal title, a move I can only assume is meant to put her in her place, remind her that she does not have to know everything that he does.

But she is an expert at both deflection and manipulation. She has had years of practice, learning just where to poke and prod to elicit the behavior she wishes, and is quick to direct his attention back to the matter at hand. “Of course, Your Majesty. But this morning’s meeting gives me another thought. I believe that God has placed an opportunity squarely before you.”

The entire room falls silent, and I would give anything to see both the king’s face and his bishops’ as the regent decides to add the role of spiritual advisor to her duties.

“Continue.” The king’s voice is colder than iron in winter.

“You have long been troubled by your need to break the betrothal vow with the Princess Marguerite.” I suck in my breath—that she would be so bold as to speak of such private matters before the entire council. “Perhaps ridding the Church of this unorthodoxy would allow you to atone for that stain on your mortal soul.”

The silence in the room is nearly thicker than the wall at my ear. Again, I would give anything to know how the king is reacting to this. After a few more minutes of ominous silence, the regent speaks again. “If that does not appeal, then perhaps it would be wise to hold off on the queen’s coronation.”

Surprised silence fills the room. “But to what end?”

“Besides, the marriage has already been consummated,” someone else points out.

The Bishop of Albi, ever political, speculates, “Won’t that create more problems than it solves?”

“Only if we let it go on indefinitely. I am merely suggesting we use it as leverage to get the queen to renounce her irregular religious practices. The French crown cannot be tainted with such things.”

“And if she renounces the Nine, the convent of assassins will not be a tool in her arsenal, one that could be used against you.” Cassel’s deep voice is easy to recognize.

I wait for one of them to point out that the queen—that we—would never do that—but no one does.

 Chapter 13

Aeva

The sun is low in the sky by the time we finally reach the cave. Less than an hour until nightfall. Beast leaves me to