Igniting Darkness (Courting Darkness Duology #2) - Robin LaFevers Page 0,95

all.”

“That runs down your back?” While he does not raise his voice, neither does he try to hide his disbelief. “That feels far more like a chain to me, and I would know.”

I think of all the jests he could make, all the ways he could crow about who is wearing a chain now. But he says none of those things. He simply pulls me closer to the light of the furnace so he can examine the links.

“It is not a chain, but fancy court jewelry in the style that Germans or the English favor.” My heart beating too fast, I pull out of his reach.

He lifts an unwavering gaze to my face. “What is going on, Genevieve?”

“Nothing is going on. And I have stayed overlong already. I must go.”

He reaches out and grabs my wrist, but gently. “You’re talking fast, and your voice is high. You’re lying. Why are you wearing a necklace with a chain?”

I force myself to meet his eyes. “It is part of my work for the convent,” I tell him. “Truly. I can take it off and walk away any time I choose.”

“I would hear of this assignment, then.” Slowly, his movements achingly tender, he pulls the chain from beneath my gown and lays it across his palm. The orange light from the fire sparkles off the silver surface. Even though the late-night air is warmed by the furnace, I shiver. “Tell me, Gen.”

How do I tell him of the magnitude of the mistake I’ve made? The narrowest of paths I must tread to make things right?

“You said you trusted me.” His words do not feel as if they are meant to shame, but to remind me in case I had forgotten.

I close my eyes, and the impossibility of my situation hits me. I was a fool to come here. A fool to think I could reach for such a gift and not have to pay in some way. “I do,” I whisper.

“I do not know what your assignment is, but with what you have told me, things are clearly getting dangerous at court.” It takes great effort, but I watch as he pulls his mind back from all the possibilities it is constructing, all the dark scenarios he can imagine, all the disasters I might find myself in. He closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them, they are clear and unshadowed. He reaches for my shoulders, the heat of his hands warming something that has grown cold inside me. “I will admit that I do not like this, but I trust that you are doing what you need to do and that you will do it well.”

It feels as if all my life I’ve been pushing on a heavy door, trying to get it to open. With his words, it has suddenly given way, and I am thrown off balance.

“You do?” But I do not have to ask. Not really, for that trust shines in his eyes.

“However”—those eyes darken slightly—“I am also trusting that if you need help, or things go awry, you will tell me.”

Trust for trust, that is the trade he demands of me.

“I want to meet again. Tomorrow,” he says.

The reasons I should not agree have increased tenfold, but agree I do. “Not here. The smithy will be open then, and we could be seen. We need to find someplace else.”

“The fletcher’s hut, near the armory,” he says at once.

“Very well. The fletcher’s hut, then. And during the council meeting will be the safest time.”

I start to move away, but he grabs my hand, pulls me close. “You are not alone in this, Gen. And if the danger becomes too great, you can find refuge with us.” Then he presses one last kiss upon my lips and lets me go.

* * *

This is harder than I had imagined—although what I had imagined I cannot say. Bouncing between the king and Maraud like one of those little leather balls against the wall? If I continue to see Maraud, my resolve will crumble faster than a sandy cliff before a winter storm—and my work here is not finished. The catastrophe I set in motion not resolved. The regent’s plans are unraveling. The king is beginning to see her—and her allies—more closely than he has before. Sybella has been removed from the king’s wrath, now I must simply find a way to remove her from her brother’s. Maraud is a gift I have given myself, but one I have not