Igniting Darkness (Courting Darkness Duology #2) - Robin LaFevers Page 0,44

claim your men acted without your knowledge when I gave it to you? We could both have walked away then.”

He barks out a harsh laugh. “Walking away was never an option for me.” His heart beats fast with fear, his pupils are wide with it. “Why could you and your sisters not just have come with me when I asked? Returned to your brother’s side, where you belong?”

There it is. The reason he deserves to die. He would trade innocents’ safety for his own. I press my knife closer. “For the same reason you are too afraid to return to him empty-handed.”

“He will send others.”

“And I will kill them, too.”

“Then he will come himself, with an army at his back.”

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. “He would stand his army against the crown of France? I think not.”

“You assume the crown will still support you after I tell them you are responsible for the corpse they found.”

I lean in closer. “What makes you think that you will be allowed to have that conversation?”

He looks down at me and smirks. “I am bigger and stronger than you, even with that knife.”

“That may well be true, but I am more ruthless.” I silently place one foot behind his, then shove hard against his chest, knocking him backwards. Unbalanced, he falls. A grunt escapes him as he catches his head on the hearthstone.

His eyes flutter once, but he does not move. It is done. The line crossed. The decision made. Although it never truly felt like a decision. More like the satisfaction of pulling a thorn out of one’s heart.

I consider—briefly—offering a prayer to Mortain. Of thanks? Of forgiveness? But instead, my mind goes to the Dark Mother. While Mortain’s divinity may still flow in my veins, it is through the Dark Mother’s grace that I have been reborn through the ashes of my own pain and heartache. Mayhap I should pray to her instead.

I wait a moment longer to be certain he will not move, then shove my knife into my belt, bend over to grab the edge of the rug, and drag him to the window. Praise the Nine he is not bleeding.

He is heavy, but the rug moves smoothly across the stone floor. At the window, I pause. How best to disguise what I’ve done? The guards saw him come in, but they did not see me. I peer down into the empty courtyard, which is as deserted as it ever is. I go to my trunklet and retrieve the Marquis’s rope, then hoist and tug and shove until he is braced on the ledge. After confirming the courtyard is still empty, I give a final push.

A second later, there is a heavy thud, then a silent pop as his soul bursts from his body like the flesh from an overripe plum. As I stare down, I feel the ashes of my faith in Mortain scatter with the wind, and a new, tentative faith is born. I have not only ended a life, but created a space, a pocket of safety, for two young lives to come to fruition. Fremin’s death creates security for my sisters.

I glance down once more before tucking my skirts up into my belt. The Mouse was able to climb the wall, and he is not any smaller or lighter than I am. And if the be-damned Mouse can do it, so can I. I toss a leg over the sill, then begin the long, treacherous climb down into the courtyard.

 Chapter 21

By the time my feet make contact with the flagstones, my toes and fingers are cramping and my arms are as weak as wet straw. Ignoring the irate flapping of Fremin’s livid soul, I stay pressed against the wall until I am certain no one has seen my descent.

When I am sure, I hurry over to check the body. The soul follows closely, as if it still had a physical body and could intimidate me. His neck is broken. Keeping an ear out for approaching heartbeats, I place le Poisson’s knife in Fremin’s hand, then remove the length of rope from my belt and tuck it into his. It will look as if he came armed for an abduction.

Outraged by my actions, his soul crashes against the barriers I have erected.

“Begone,” I hiss.

It retreats enough that I can examine my handiwork. That is when I feel another heartbeat. As my hand reaches for my dagger, a voice calls softly through the darkness, “Don’t need your