Igniting Darkness (Courting Darkness Duology #2) - Robin LaFevers Page 0,96

yet earned.

Should I kill Pierre? Sybella said the lines of Mortain’s grace are blurred now with his death. Do any of the rules of the convent still apply?

And surely Pierre presents as great a threat to her and her sisters as Monsieur Fremin did? More.

Why would she not have done this already? Is it some sense of obligation because she once thought him her brother? Or is she unable to get close enough to him to do the deed?

He doesn’t know me. Would not recognize me. Especially if I came to him at night. I could get close enough to strike. I even have my poisoned needles left. If I used all of them, it would be enough to kill him. And Sybella and her sisters would be free. It is not saving the entire convent, but it is a start. It will save the ones I have come to care the most for.

This new plan puts purpose back in my steps as I climb the staircase to my chambers. It will be easy enough to discern which rooms Pierre uses. The hardest part will be ensuring suspicion does not fall once again on Sybella.

Or myself. Because of course the king will suspect me. I have already confessed to Fremin’s murder, and told the king the ugly truths about the d’Albret family. He will think I am merely carrying out the next logical step. I will have to find a way to arrange this so that both Sybella and I are far away when the poison takes effect. The needles are small enough that no one will notice their puncture wounds on his skin.

When I reach the hallway that leads to my room, I see Gilbert and Roland standing rigidly at attention. They have not guarded my room since the day we arrived. My heart skips a beat. Has the king guessed where I’ve been? Had me followed?

Painting a cheerful smile upon my face and a ready excuse upon my tongue, I greet them. In response, they give me nothing but stiff nods. Gilbert steps forward to open my door for me. Before I can thank him, the regent pulls away from the window where she’s been waiting.

“There you are.”

 Chapter 53

I have not been face-to-face with the regent since we last spoke at Plessis. Have not seen for myself how she’s grown bitter-looking, like a too-thin blade before it is broken. While she stands composed, arrogant even, a faint desperation taints her features. Perhaps she senses her carefully spun web beginning to unravel. Desperate people begin to make mistakes, as I should know, and their mistakes might grant us further leverage.

“Madame Regent.” I sink into a curtsy.

Her gaze scans me from head to toe, and for a moment, I fear she will sense traces of Maraud clinging to me. “The king has set you up well. Where were you?”

“This morning I was attending upon the queen. This afternoon, I met with the king. He is quite good at jeu de paume.”

Her brows arch in surprise. “You serve the queen now?”

“She is my queen, and she sent for me. I answered her summons.”

The regent crosses the room to examine the blue brocade of my bed curtains. “We have not seen each other since Plessis,” she says pleasantly.

“I did not think it wise to seek you out.”

She twists her lips in a pale imitation of a smile. “There is that notable wit of yours. Tell me, do you remember the last time we spoke?”

“But of course.” My heart begins to beat faster. I could hardly forget—Sybella and I were arguing over this necklace when the regent came upon us.

She lets go of the curtain to face me. “You are from the convent.” It is not a question. She takes a step toward me. “I trusted you.” Her voice is like the thinnest of whips, lashing across the room, meant to draw blood.

But her trust is not what I am worried about. I do not like the faint gleam of victory in her eyes. Whatever this is about, it is not injured trust. “We are even, then, for you broke my trust first.” The moment the words are out, the truth of them punches me low in the belly.

She scowls. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I trusted you to act as a mentor, and instead you acted as the procuress for your brother to feed your own political hunger.”

“You were no innocent, but an assassin.”

“But you did not know that!” We are silent,