Igniting Darkness (Courting Darkness Duology #2) - Robin LaFevers Page 0,31

the forest floor, shaking the very ground beneath our feet. I give the wasp a nod of approval instead.

One of the men near the front of the cave spits, another coughs, and the hooves grow louder, closer, accompanied now by the squeak of leather and the jingle of tack.

A voice, sounding far away because of the thickness of the cave walls, calls out, “Over there! A cave!”

Another voice calls back. “This will be the last one for the day. We’re almost out of light.”

The direction of the horses shifts so that they head directly for us, then come to a stop. The cave rings with the silence that follows, broken by a creak of leather as someone hoists himself out of a saddle.

Tola looks at me. I point at her, then the opening, then hold my palm out flat. She is to go first, but not until I give the signal.

My heart beats faster in both anticipation and excitement. If not for the girls and Tephanie, I would relish this skirmish. After weeks cooped up at the French court, I am hungry for a fight.

In the fading light that just reaches the cave, Beast looks at me over his shoulder and nods.

I lift my bow and draw an arrow, calculating a path that will allow me to pick off the first men in without hitting Beast or the queen’s guard. Before I can give Tola the signal, a hunting horn sounds, and a new rider comes galloping into the clearing, eliciting curses and mutters from the French.

“Where’s your captain?” a voice shouts over the others.

“I am here,” a deep voice answers.

“The search has been called off,” the messenger calls out. “They’ve found something.”

The men whoop, and the captain says, “You heard him! Mount up and ride out.”

It is not until I hear the last of them ride away that I finally lower my bow.

 Chapter 14

Sybella

As I prepare the queen’s morning tonic, I try to decide how much I should share with her from yesterday’s audience with the king. If they are truly considering appealing to the Church to have the Nine declared heretical, she will need to be informed. And while she should know their claims that following the Nine divides her loyalty, I’m not sure that would do more than make her angry.

“Well, are you going to ask me?”

I glance up from the pestle I’m using to grind the cardamom to find her watching me, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Ask you what?”

“How my meeting with Genevieve went.”

Merde. News of the search party had driven all of that from my mind. “Of course I am curious, Your Majesty, but it also struck me as a somewhat personal conversation.”

She waves her hand. “I have no privacy. You know that.”

As if to prove her point, there is a sharp pounding on the door before it is thrust open and Captain Stuart strides in, followed by a half dozen soldiers.

“What is the meaning of this?” the queen demands.

Captain Stuart bows. “I beseech Your Majesty’s forgiveness, but I am here on orders of the king.” The queen stares at him, disbelief writ plain on her face. Ignoring her, he motions his men forward. “Lady Sybella, you are to come with us.”

My heart sinks. I do not know what this means, but surely something dire. Have they found Beast and the girls?

“All seven of you are needed to escort her?” the queen asks waspishly.

He bows at her politely, but does not answer the question. I carefully set the mortar and pestle down. “Heloise? Would you mind finishing this? It is almost ready to steep.” Then I step out from behind the table. “By all means, please take me to the king.”

To my surprise, we do not head for the king’s audience chamber but back toward the kitchen and a small room that stands off to the side. The first thing I notice is the mud-splattered soldiers standing at attention. The second thing I notice is the stink of death that permeates everything, explaining why the king and his advisors have not entered, but stand cramped in the hallway.

Upon my arrival, the king turns to me. “My search party has found something, Lady Sybella. Or has found someone, I should say.”

Every fiber of my being grows as taut as a bowstring. I arrange my face in what I hope is mild confusion. “I am glad of it, Your Majesty.”

The king gestures to the mud-splattered captain, giving me a moment to compose myself. Do not let