Igniting Darkness (Courting Darkness Duology #2) - Robin LaFevers Page 0,61

about retrieving them somehow.

I head for the thick tapestry against the wall and pull it back, revealing a half dozen other knives, hastily stitched into the backside of the fabric. I slip them into the sheaths hidden under my gown. Since they did not search me bodily that night, I will have to hope that they will not today either. If they do, the fact that Cassel missed these will make him look foolish before the king.

And I would very much like to make Cassel look foolish. I would very much like to hold one of these knives at his throat and press—slowly—until his eyes bulge with fear, blood trickling down his neck and piss down his leg.

That thought puts a faint smile on my lips so that I will not have to fake the pleasant greeting I intend to give my guards.

Except there are no guards in sight. Surprised, I step all the way into the hall, expecting to hear them call out to me to stop, but they do not. The guards at the queen’s apartment do not make any move to stop me either. They simply nod a greeting, then step aside to open the door.

But the queen is not in her room. Instead, I find Heloise, overseeing the airing of the queen’s mattress. “Where is she?” I ask.

Heloise glances over her shoulder. “Since the sun decided to come out today, the king invited her for a short stroll in the garden. We all thought the fresh air would do her and the babe some good.”

“That is pleasant news.”

Heloise nods. “The king has visited every day and is most solicitous.”

“Have they announced the pregnancy yet?”

“Not yet. They have decided to announce it at the coronation.” Heloise tilts her head. “You have not heard, have you?”

Startled birds take flight in my stomach. “Heard what?”

“The king has decided Fremin’s death was an accident.”

I stare at her a moment, the fullness of her words not penetrating.

“A most tragic one,” I finally say.

“Indeed.”

* * *

I head directly for Gen’s chambers. Around me, everyone is busy readying the household to make the great trek to Paris for the coronation. I am glad that it appears to be proceeding as planned and wonder how the regent lost that battle.

When I reach Genevieve’s room, I knock, but there is no answer. There is no heartbeat, either. Puzzled, I open the door and slip inside. Her room is empty, the bed not slept in. I frown, remembering my last words to her to distract the king. Merde. I told her not to do anything other than distract him. But that was naïve of me. I have seen the guilt and remorse she drags behind her like a millstone. She would have done whatever it took. If she is not here, nor in the ladies’ solar, then there is only one place she could be.

And fortunately for me, the king is outside with the queen.

Using the small servants’ corridor, I count the doors until I reach the one that leads to the king’s private apartments. I put my ear to the door and hear only one heartbeat—too steady, strong, and familiar to be the king’s elderly valet. I silently lift the latch and peek into the room.

In the dim light I see a slim figure lying on the couch, covered in a blanket. While I do not like that the curtains have not been drawn back from the windows, I am glad she is at least on the couch and not in the king’s bed.

As I step fully into the room, Gen stirs and sits up, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” I say cheerfully.

“Sybella?” She quickly grabs the corner of the blanket and pulls it close.

“ ’Tis I. Come to thank you for distracting the king long enough that reason could prevail and”—my voice gentles—“to be certain you did not force yourself to cross any lines you did not wish to.”

“Of course not,” she says, appearing discomfited by my words.

“Well and good, then. He has declared Fremin’s death an accident, and the queen is back in his favor. If that was all thanks to you, it is no wonder you are still abed.”

Genevieve smiles, but it does not quite reach her eyes. “I am glad.” While there is no doubting the sincerity of her words, something is off. Something I cannot yet put my finger on.

I glance around at the sitting room that, for all of its opulence, feels dim and dour. “Why