Grave Mercy (His Fair Assassin #1)(115)

He frowns, then tries to sit up as he remembers. “The duchess is safe,” I tell him. “She is safe and well guarded by half the garrison from Rennes. You did it, my lord. Fran?ois reached us in time. You saved her.”

He closes his eyes and draws a deep breath. “Then I may die in peace.”

“You are not dying. You were, but no longer.” At his puzzled look, I lean down once again. “I will save you,” I whisper against his lips.

As I slip out of the rough, dark gown, I realize I have only the vaguest idea of how a woman lies with a man. even so, I cast my shift aside and gently push Duval back down — it takes no effort at all. Slowly, I lower my body onto his so that every part of us is touching. My head rests on his chest and my feet lie atop his shins. He is warm, too warm, and everywhere his skin flinches and trembles. My hand goes to the scars on his chest, the one just over his heart. I place my hand there, savoring the stronger, steadier beat.

I know he is growing stronger when he is able to pull me closer.

His hands roam over my back, tracing my scar. I start to pull away, then realize I do not care. As his arms gain strength, his fingers travel in delicious trails along my back. everywhere my skin touches his, it flutters and tingles, but whether it is from the poison moving from his body to mine or simply my own response to Duval, I do not know.

Sometime later, I am the first to stir. I lay there, savoring the slow, steady beat of his heart as it thumps against my chest. when I open my eyes, I see his skin no longer has the gray pallor that heralds death. I feel damp, as if I have walked through a heavy mist. Small beads of the now harmless poison coat my skin like sweat. Just like a bezoar stone, I have neutralized its deadly effects.

As the fog of our lying passes, it clears the way for thoughts other than Duval. I sit up. “Isabeau!” Panic jolts through me, but Duval’s hand clamps on my waist and pulls me back.

“She is safe,” he murmurs.

I stare down at him. “How can you know? I believe Crunard — ”

He lifts his fingers to my lips, quieting me. “She is gone from here.”

My heart lurches. “You mean she is dead?”

He laughs and gives a rueful shake of his head. “No, dear assassin. She was spirited out of the palace while Crunard slept.”

I push out of his arms and sit up. “How? How did you manage this?”

He folds his hands behind his head and looks up at me. “The morning you left, I woke feeling better. I knew Crunard must be planning a trap and that I had little time before he sprung it. I went to Fran?ois and ordered him to fetch the garrison from Rennes and bring them to Anne at Nantes.”

“He did it, my lord. He reached us at the very hour of our need.”

Duval smiles. “Good,” he says. “It is good to have him as an ally again. The next greatest need was to get Isabeau to safety.” His face grows serious. “She is not well, not well at all.”

“You do not need to tell me.” Our eyes meet.

“Does Anne know?”

“Not the full severity of it, I do not think.”

He sighs and scrubs his face with his hand. “To get her to safety, I employed the talents of the loyal Louyse, who would lay down her life for one of the duke’s children, and my lady mother, who owed her life to your mercy and her newly sworn oath. It took a while to convince my mother that swearing fealty to Anne also meant endangering her life for Isabeau, but once she saw how frail the girl was and learned how Crunard had set her up, she was only too willing to ruin his latest plans.”

“So you snuck them out through the tunnels?”

"Exactly.” His smile is smug, and rightfully so.

“And then what?” I ask, lightly punching his shoulder. “Did you secure the entire duchy while I thought you lay dying?”

“No,” he says, growing serious. “Crunard is still out there.”

"What is his aim, can you guess?”

“I do not know. But I plan to find out.” Our eyes meet again, and this time our own warm feelings give way before our desire to make Crunard pay. “But first, tell me of your news. what miracle have you wrought that you have saved me from this poison?”

“It is one of my gifts from Mortain.” I grimace. “One the convent either does not know about or chose not to tell me of.”

“And what of Beast and de Lornay?” he asks. The careful note in his voice indicates he expects the worst. I tell him of our battle before Rennes, of the falling of de Lornay and the taking of Beast. During the telling, his grief mounts and grows until it threatens to swallow us both. And then his mouth sets in a hard line. “I must get up.”

when he rises to his feet, I am pleased to see that he does not sway, but he is not as steady as he once was. His body will need time to fully heal. “You cannot mean to storm into Crunard’s chambers and challenge him to combat,” I say.

“I cannot?”

“You are only just able to keep on your feet.”

"Even so, I will face him, for I am sick of hiding in the dark while he destroys all that we have fought for.”

we are silent as we make our way back through the tunnels to my chamber, both of us consumed by our own thoughts, for Crunard has cost each of us much. even though he is still weak, Duval leads the way, for he is more familiar with these tunnels than I. Once again, I marvel at how he has stood it all this time, for the close stone walls press down on me, stealing my breath and making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.