resolve to speak her piece, her foot took a reflexive step back toward the door.
“State your business, Lady de Briscourt,” he rasped. “I have no time for womanly vapours.”
“Th-the Black Wolf of Lincoln told me to seek you out if I needed help,” she said haltingly.
“And? Do you require help?”
“Help … yes. But not for myself.”
There was a slight pause before a breath carried a further question to her. “Do you think of me as a charity, offering solace to all the downtrodden?”
Servanne bowed her head for a brief moment, and when she looked up again, her eyes were bright and steady, her voice without tremor.
“I would ask your help for Lord Wardieu. I am informed he plans to take your place on the field tomorrow at the tournament.”
“Lord … Wardieu?”
“Lord Lucien Wardieu. The real Lord Lucien Wardieu. The man who calls himself the Black Wolf of Lincoln … and your friend, if I am not mistaken.”
“I make a point of having no friends,” La Seyne snarled.
“Then you should advise Lord Wardieu of your feelings, for he speaks very highly of you.”
The bright glitter of his eyes narrowed behind the slits in the black silk. “I was informed you did not believe his story.”
“True enough. I did not. Not in the beginning.”
“But you do now?” he sneered. “May I ask what brought about such a miraculous change of heart?”
“You may mock me, sir,” she said quietly. “And you may scorn a woman’s fickle nature, but I assure you, the … change of heart … as you call it, was not come by easily, nor was it wrought without a great deal of thought to the consequences. You have come to Bloodmoor to rescue the Princess Eleanor. I have come to you in the hope you will also rescue Lord Lucien.”
The knight took a deep breath. “Lucien is a capable fellow. He needs not my help to split a bastard brother from a saddle.”
“Do you honestly think Prince John would allow him to savour such a victory should it come his way?”
“It is the victory he seeks,” La Seyne said slowly. “What comes after … is of no importance. What comes after, he will deal with after.”
“Alone? In a field surrounded by John’s men and the Dragon’s paid mercenaries? There will be nothing to deal with, my lord, for a single cold command will loose a hundred arrows from a hundred bows, and he will be dead with little of the chivalry and honour he claims to hold so dear.”
The pauses were growing longer, the shadowy details of La Seyne’s figure were becoming more distinct. Now she could not only see the shape of his mask, but the way the force of each shallow breath caused the silk to swell and recede against his mouth.
“Women should stay clear of war and politics—they understand neither. In the first place, Lord Lucien will not be alone. I have a hundred stout, loyal men of my own to ensure those arrows are not fired.”
“De Gournay is Prince John’s ally—his champion! He will not sit idly by while a man they both plotted to discredit attempts to prove them frauds and murderers.”
“God and the king must judge the weight of John’s greed. Lucien’s quarrel is with his brother.”
“It is a quarrel John will not tolerate in silence.”
The silk flared again. “He will if he is faced with the choice of either recognizing Lucien Wardieu as the rightful heir of the De Gournay title, or having his own crime of kidnapping and attempted murder revealed before witnesses. It was Lackland’s arrogance to suppose he would be safer making the exchange for the Princess Eleanor at Bloodmoor, surrounded by his most trusted allies. It is that same arrogance which will force him to maintain his silence while his champion is challenged for his crimes. To be sure, he will pretend to be suitably shocked at De Gournay’s duplicity, but unless he wants the princess to point an accusing finger at her uncle’s royal intrigues, he will support the man who wins on the field tomorrow.”
“Are you so sure Lucien will win?”
“Your confidence is overwhelming, my lady,” he said dryly. “You do not think he will?”
“I think you are a better match for Etienne Wardieu. You have the trophies and the reputation to prove it.”
“Lucien is no mean squirrel in the lists; he has tipped a fox or two out of the saddle before now.”