Grave Mercy (His Fair Assassin #1)(41)

“True enough, but you will forgive me if I am somewhat leery of what you learned at the convent. I would like to be certain you possess the basic facts of the situation.”

A hot bubble of anger rises up inside me, but I force it back down. At first, I think it is his arrogance that has made me angry, but then I realize I am angry because he has planted tiny, wicked seeds of doubt within me.

He strolls to a chessboard near the window. There is a game in progress, I see — but no, there are far too many pieces for that. There are, in fact, twice as many pieces as in a regular game.

“Do you play?” he asks.

“No.” This is a lie. I do play, just not very well.

“I am surprised,” he says. “I would think the convent would find chess a useful tool for their novices.”

“They do.” Honesty compels me to admit it. “But it is not one of my strengths.”

A corner of Duval’s mouth lifts in amusement. “Too impatient, perhaps?”

I force myself to unclench my jaw. “So I was told,” I mutter.

Ignoring my discomfiture, he reaches down and lays a finger on top of the white queen. She is flanked by a small cluster of white pieces. Surrounding her are dozens of dark pieces. “The French,” Duval says, “press hard against us. They look for any excuse to step in and swallow us whole. They not only wait but actively plot and plan. If they can create discord within our ranks, they will cheerfully do so and use that as a justification to help themselves to our country. I know they are paying off some of our barons, but I do not yet know which ones. I am working on gathering that information.”

“That is precisely what the convent explained to us, my lord.” with the exception of the barons being bribed by the French regent, but I will bite off my tongue before admitting that to him.

“There are two things we must do,” he continues, as if I have not spoken. “Secure a strong marriage alliance for the duchess, and see her crowned. Both are made more difficult by the French envoy’s presence here at court. what do you know of Anne’s suitors?” he asks.

“That she was dangled like bait in front of all the princes in Christendom and promised to nearly half of those,” I say.

Duval’s lips twist in a sour smile. “Precisely so. However, the one who is most determined to ensure that promise is kept is Count d’Albret. His suit has some support among the Privy Council, as well as among the barons. He has a number of large holdings and thousands of men-at-arms that he can call upon to fight against the French. It does not hurt his cause any that his half sister, the duchess’s governess of many years, sits on the Privy Council. She is much in favor of his suit. The duchess herself, however, is greatly opposed to the match, as am I.”

"Why?” I ask, genuinely curious.

He looks at me, incredulous. “You have seen the man.”

“Not truly. He was surrounded by his outriders yesterday. I only caught a glimpse of his bulk and his poor lathered horse.”

“Yes, well, he treats his wives much as he does his horses, but he goes through wives much faster.”

His words strike a chord of memory. “Six,” I say, remembering Sister Eonette’s teachings. “He has had six wives so far. Indeed, he has gained much of his wealth and many of his holdings through those marriages.”

Duval plucks a black knight from the board and scowls at it viciously. “You will forgive me if I mislike those odds.”

I gape at him. "What are you suggesting?”

His jaw twitches. “Only that marriage and childbirth are hard on women, especially d’Albret women. Besides, I harbor suspicions of his role in our final and losing battle with the French.”

“But I thought d’Albret rode to our rescue with four thousand troops?”

“Yes, but he was supposed to charge the center with those troops during the battle, and instead they hung back. I cannot decide if it was due to the normal chaos of battle or some ulterior purpose.”

I am quiet a long moment as I ponder the many reasons d’Albret would be a most unsuitable match. “But surely he is not the only one of Anne’s suitors who wants to claim her hand? She has been promised to so very many.”

Duval drops the chess piece back on the board, then holds up his hand. “The Spanish prince is too ill right now to think of pursuing his betrothal agreement, although his royal parents have offered fifteen hundred troops to aid us. The english prince went missing from his tower over five years ago and is unable to follow through with those betrothal plans. Two of the other contenders are already married, although they are seeking annulments from the pope even as we speak. That leaves the Holy Roman emperor. He is by all accounts a good leader and a decent man, as well as a powerful ruler over both Germany and the Holy Roman empire. But he is mired in wars of his own and cannot send us any aid. Further, if we betroth Anne to the Holy Roman emperor, France will call it an act of war, and we will need troops to defend the alliance.”

“Thus the plea to england for support.”

"Exactly so. And we still do not know which side the english king will favor.”

I stare at the board, painfully aware just how desperate the duchess’s situation is. “She is well and truly under siege then,” I murmur.

“That is a most excellent assessment of the situation, I’m afraid.” Duval’s gaze lingers on me for a long moment before he reaches toward the board once more. He lifts up a discarded white pawn and sets it in front of the white queen.