All for want of the regent’s rutting schemes. I want to explode into action to begin escaping this carefully laid trap, yet I remain motionless, fearing what I may step into next.
If I choose to stay or warn the king, he will likely think he can simply overcome the regent’s claims, bargain it out, no matter that the Bishop of Albi is already in her pocket, his confessor is likely shocked, and General Cassel will sneer at his weaknesses.
What little remnants of his decency that remain will shrivel before that onslaught.
And his advisors? The majority of them will not trust his judgment again, allowing the regent to create a power vacuum into which she can readily slip once more. She will have robbed him of the one thing that mattered most to him—their respect. As well as robbing me of any chance I had of righting the scales.
A new horror occurs to me. If I stay, if the king resists, the regent could easily claim that I was working for her, gaining his trust in service of her ambitions rather than for my own reasons. And he will, of course, believe her.
The thought has me leaping to my feet and rushing over to the basin, where I retch into it, trying not to make a sound. Even worse, Sybella might feel as if she needs to come forward and confess to Fremin’s murder in order to neutralize this weapon the regent now holds. It will all come crumbling down on her undeserving shoulders. I retch again.
As I rest my head on the small table, waiting for my stomach to stop roiling, my eyes fall on the pitcher of fresh water. I’d almost been able to fix things—but the glue was too thin.
But, I slowly realize, even thin glue requires a hammer in order to break it. And the regent can only make use of a weapon if she holds it. Without me, there is no leverage over the king. No one Sybella or the queen will feel they need to protect.
Chapter 54
Your Majesty,
If you are reading this, then I have had to make a most difficult decision, and you will not like the news I am about to share with you.
Back in Plessis, the night of Monsieur Fremin’s death, Madame Regent overheard our conversation. She has recently confronted me with what she learned that night and is planning to use it to force you to bend to her political will. I cannot allow that to happen. As I have always told you, my first duty is to serve, and I cannot do that if I am to be used as a weapon against you.
The only way forward is for me to leave and, after I am gone, for you to announce that you have discovered my role in the matter and have banished me as punishment. That way, the information she holds cannot be used against you in any way.
Your Most Humble Servant,
G
I carefully place the letter on my pillow. Either the maidservant or one of the guards will take it directly to the king. I leave a second letter for Sybella, but this one under my mattress, knowing she will search to see if there are any signs of why I have left.
I fetch the maid’s gown that I carried all the way from Plessis, and begin to undress. When I have stripped down to naught but my shift, I reach around to the back of my neck and fumble with the clasp of the necklace until it releases. As I remove it, I marvel at the heaviness of the silver links that spill though my fingers.
Setting it on the foot of the bed, I am reminded of the tales my mother told of the followers of Saint Mer. How they could slip out of the skin that allowed them to move so freely in the ocean in order to walk among men unremarked. But woe to the one whose skin was found by humans, for once it was taken from her, she would never have the same freedom of movement in the sea again. With luck, everyone who has seen me has noticed only the necklace and will not recognize me without it.
The king will never forgive me. In spite of my note and my careful explanation, he will never forget that I did not trust him to protect us against the regent’s schemes. He will believe I thought him too weak. But this is not about me,