be certain no one is about, then looks down at me. That is when I can see that the paleness of her face is due to fury rather than fear. “What did you say to the king to sour him against me?”
“You are a d’Albret. Is that not enough?”
“He has known I was a d’Albret since I first arrived and has not held me in suspicion before.” She grasps the iron railing. “Where were you last night when I came looking for you? You weren’t on a mission for the convent, since you had not heard from them.” She takes a step toward me. “And so I ask myself, why were you not announced, if not on an assignment? And I will tell you, I do not like the answer.” She stares at me, her breathing fast and hard. I open my mouth to answer, but she talks over me. “Where. Were. You.”
I have no choice but to tell her. The entire court will find out soon enough. “With the king.”
She glares at me. “You were sleeping with the king.”
I shrug. “Not sleeping exactly.”
She grits her teeth. “So you were bedding him?”
Sleeping sounded so much better. I nod.
Quicker than an arrow released from a bowstring, she is upon me, her hand grabbing my chin and bringing it close to hers. “You betrayed us.” Her voice is a low, furious hum, her anger a solid wall that has me wanting to take a step back, but her fingers are like a vise. “You aren’t here hoping for a be-damned crow feather. You have some hidden agenda of your own. One that involves destroying the queen.” She shoves my face away from her. “You have exposed us all to the king.”
And there it is, the ugly, brutal kick I have waited for, all the more painful for being delayed long enough to allow hope to take root. As I struggle to find words to explain, she descends another step toward me. “Was it to get even with the convent for ignoring you longer than you liked? Or has your loyalty to Brittany been eroded by your years in France?”
“Disloyalty was never my intention!” Desperately needing a moment to regain my footing, I glance at the deserted landing. “Surely we do not need to discuss this where any wandering ears can hear.”
In answer, she turns and strides up the stairs. Something hot and ugly uncurls inside me, filling my skin so that I fear it will burst. At first I think that it is my own temper flaring to match Sybella’s, but it is more corrosive than that. Shame, I realize with a shock. This thick, suffocating feeling is shame.
When she reaches the landing, she whirls around to face me again, blocking my ascent. “Is that why Margot died? Did she discover your plans for treachery?”
Her words slam against my chest and send me reeling backwards. I grip the bannister. “No!”
“Your word is meaningless to me,” she says, but something in my manner must convince her, for some of the reckless fury fades from her face. “What are you doing here, Genevieve?”
“Must we discuss this in the hallway?” It takes all my training to keep the pleading note from my voice.
She gives a brusque nod, then strides to the fourth chamber on the right and motions me inside. The door closes behind us with a click of foreboding. “Very well. We are alone. Now you can explain this treachery of yours.”
That she would leap to such a conclusion hurts deeply. “Why are you so certain that I betrayed you?”
“Because the king knows I am from the convent of Saint Mortain and what we do there. He did not know that two days ago.” Her expression hardens as the threads she has grabbed hold of begin to form a pattern. “You said you were with the king last night. Is that why you are poisoning the queen?”
Her accusation knocks all the air from my lungs. “No! Not the queen!”
Her eyes grow so frigid that I feel an actual chill scuttle across my arms. “But you are poisoning somebody.”
“No! Not now.”
She tilts her head. “But . . . ?”
“It had nothing to do with any of this. It was when I left Cognac, the only way I could escape.” There. I said I had to escape. Surely she’ll begin to understand now.
“Or was it the only way you could worm your way into the king’s bed and betray everything the convent stands for? Do you