Grave Mercy (His Fair Assassin #1)(91)

Duval studies the board intensely, as if trying to conjure secrets from it. “Then there is no one left to speak on Anne’s behalf. Beast cannot do it, nor de Lornay. They are not high enough in rank to sway the council.”

"What of Dunois?”

“Captain Dunois is as solid and loyal a man you could ask for, but politics and treaties and the games of kingdoms are not his gifts. Leading men in battle, grasping tactics and strategies of war, those are his strengths.”

I stare at the board, thinking of the poor duchess surrounded by an entire council that has so little interest in her personal welfare. “Then you must not be taken,” I say.

“But if I leave, it ensures the same result, does it not? It is a brilliant plan they have concocted. Perhaps they even wished for Dunois to speak with me. whether I am arrested or leave of my own accord, the result is the same: I am unable to help Anne. Unless . . .” Duval begins tapping at his chin with his finger.

“Unless what?” I ask impatiently.

He turns to look at me, his face alight with a touch of unholy glee. “Unless there is some way to remove myself yet not. what if they think I have left, but I haven’t?”

“You mean to disguise yourself? Surely your face is too well known — ”

“No. I will hide under their very noses.” Duval turns to stare at the fireplace. More accurately, the wall beside the fireplace. “The castle holds a number of hidden passages. with our country so often at war, the ducal palaces have always had escape routes out of the castle.”

“You would live in those tunnels and passageways?”

He shrugs. “It cannot be worse than being imprisoned. And it will give me a chance to finalize the agreement with the Holy Roman emperor’s envoy Herr Dortmund and send him on his way with a signed contract. I fear that is Anne’s last chance if she does not wish to end up in the arms of either the French or d’Albret.”

“But will you not need the privy councilors’ signatures?”

“I will forge them. This is only the preliminary agreement anyway. Hopefully, when the final document is ready, Anne will have been crowned and can act on her own behalf.”

It is a desperate plan but the only one available to us. we spend the next several hours working out the details, trying to anticipate all the obstacles that could lay waste to our strategy.

Duval will continue to visit my chamber each night. He does not think the council will go so far as to post sentries at my bedchamber door. I am not so sure.

while he is in hiding, I will pretend to mope and will ask for my meals in my room, which will make it easy enough to set aside food for him.

"What shall I tell the others when they ask where you have gone? For Crunard, at least, will surely question me.”

“Simply tell them the truth. You do not know where I am. For you will not. I could be anywhere in the castle, I could even leave it, and no one — including you — will know where I have gone.”

“And the duchess? what will she think when you disappear?”

“The passageways open up into the royal bedchambers. I should be able to get to her. But it would not hurt for you to try to get a message to her as well.”

"What shall I tell her?”

He looks down at the chessboard again. “Tell her we no longer know whom she can trust. we will keep her apprised as we learn more.” He glances at the window, then back at me. “I have a few preparations I must make before I go.”

we are close enough to kiss, and for a long, heart-stopping moment I think that he will do just that. Instead, he runs his knuckle along my cheek. “Until tomorrow night, then.”

I shiver. “Until tomorrow.”

He turns to leave, then stops and snatches the white queen from the board, wrapping his fingers around it as if to keep her safe.

It is not surprising that I cannot sleep that night. I lie awake and think of Duval crawling around the hidden tunnels of the castle like a rat trapped in a wall. I think of the duchess abandoned by every one of the guardians her father appointed for her. But mostly I think of the council, of Chancellor Crunard and Marshal Rieux, and wonder who is telling the truth and who is lying.





Chapter Thirty-nine



When I draw aside the curtains the next morning, the icy fingers of winter come through the glass and pinch me awake. The true season of Mortain is upon us, everything cold and barren and gray.

Behind me, the door opens and Louyse bustles in. “My lady! Come away from there before you catch your death!”

Her words bring a smile to my lips. Does she think Death is some small bird with my name written on it, beating at the window in the hope that I will catch it? “Something subdued,” I tell Louyse as she moves toward the garderobe. “I am feeling somber today.”

“Aye, you and the whole palace,” she mutters darkly.

I turn from the window and rub some warmth back into my arms.

when she has set out the gown, I send her off to fetch a breakfast tray and hurry to dress, a plan forming as I do. My first task is to write to the abbess informing her of the attempt on the duchess’s life.

I pause partway through the letter as I realize that not once did the Privy Council discuss who might be behind the assassination attempt. At least, not in my hearing.

It cannot be d’Albret, for if Anne dies, there is no way he can become duke. France, then? Do they assume Isabeau is too weak to hold the crown?