Grave Mercy (His Fair Assassin #1)(72)

I kneel on the floor next to the second body long enough to retrieve my knife and wipe it clean on his tabard. when I rise to my feet, I am surprised at the small wave of dizziness that passes through me. I turn for the door, then blink at the smear of red where I leaned up against the wall. I am injured.

Desperate to be away from here, I grab a rough woolen cloak from the bed and use a corner of it to wipe the wall clean as best I can. Then I throw it around my shoulders and hide the crossbow beneath my skirts once more. I can hear the faint clatter of horses’ hooves on cobbles and the excited barking of the hounds. Satisfied that everything is as it should be, I step from the chamber out into the hall and begin the long walk down the corridor and away from the evidence of my actions.

As I wind my way through the palace corridors, I debate whether to return to Duval’s residence or meet him outside. In the end, I decide he must know what has transpired sooner rather than later, and better from my own lips than a stranger’s. Besides, someone must clean up the mess.

The wetness at my back spreads as the injury burns and pulls. I glance behind to be certain I am not dripping a trail of blood behind me.

Outside in the courtyard is a confusion of prancing, blowing horses; dismounting men; barking, wagging hounds; and shouts of greeting. Two large stags hang from poles and I find myself smiling. Today was clearly a good day for hunting, inside the palace and out. I hang back, searching for Duval.

Almost as if I have called his name, his head comes up and his gaze latches on to mine. I do not care for this connection between us.

Duval dismounts and makes his way to me. "What are you doing here?”

I say nothing, but simply stare at him.

“God’s Teeth!” he says. I would be heartily impressed by his ability to read my thoughts if it were not so exasperating.

He leans in closer, dipping his head as if he will kiss me, and I must remind myself that it is simply so no one will overhear. "Who?”

“Nemours’s guards.”

One dark eyebrow shoots up. “More than one?”

“One because he was guilty of treachery; the other was in self-defense.”

“Did the convent send you orders?”

“No. I went to pray for Nemours’s soul. Then I was drawn to Nemours’s chambers. There I saw a guard who bore a marque, and so I acted.”

I cannot read the expression on Duval’s face. “I did try to question him first, my lord, but he gave nothing away. At least, not then.”

Duval pounces on that like a wolf on a fallen bone. “Did you read his soul?”

I nod, then swallow before continuing. “He was paid a bag of ducats, and those who paid him held his wife and child. His last thought was of them, a quick prayer that they would be allowed to live now that he had done what he had been asked.”

“He spared no last thought for those who had ordered him?”

I shake my head, then wince, as it pulls the cut on my back. “He did not know. The man he dealt with wore a deep hood, and they always met in the shadows.”

Duval sighs. "Where are the bodies? I assume you need me to clean up after you.”

“They are in Nemours’s chambers. If you will see to them, I will be on my way.”

For the first time Duval notices the unfamiliar cloak I wear. "Whose cloak is that?”

I start to shrug, then wince again. “One of the men I — ”

with a sound of impatience, Duval lifts the cloak from my shoulders, then sucks in a breath. I look around to see the gown beneath is soaked through with blood. "We must get you attended to,” he says, letting the cloak fall back in place.

“Shouldn’t you see to the bodies first, before someone discovers them?”

He thinks for a moment, then gently cups my elbow with his hand. "We will do both,” he says, then leads me toward the palace.

"Where are we going?”

“To my rooms here. we will tend to your wound and I can oversee the cleanup. Although I will now owe Beast a favor.”





Chapter Thirty-two



Once inside the palace, Duval snags the first page he sees. “Here.” He gives the boy a coin. “Go find the Baron de waroch, the one they call Beast. Do you know who he is?”

The boy’s eyes shine as he nods his head.

Duval ruffles his hair. “Tell him to come immediately to my chambers in the north tower.”

The page sketches a quick bow, then takes off at a run, neatly dodging around mingling courtiers and servants, who barely notice his passing.

Duval is quiet as he escorts me through the palace to his rooms in the north tower. when we reach them, he leads me through a jumble of trunks and furnishings in the outer rooms to his bedchamber, where a valet is unpacking his clothes. Duval brusquely waves the man away, and I blush when I realize what the servant will think.

Duval sits me on the bed and angles me so that my back is to him.

“I am not a doll, my lord. If you but tell me what you wish to do, I can do it myself.”

His only response is a grunt, then the mattress dips as he sits down behind me. His body is so close I can feel the heat rising off it. Chilled by the wet blood on my gown, it is all I can do to keep myself from leaning into that warmth.

He removes the borrowed cloak from my shoulders, and I hiss as the cold air sets the cut stinging.