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“To compensate him for the loss of Brittany, something my brother still believes rightfully belonged to his father.” I do not know whose face has grown paler—the regent’s or Pierre’s.
“Your Majesty.” Interesting that General Cassel decides to step into the fray. “These actions the girl speaks of are the tactics of war.”
“We were not at war.” The king’s voice is cool. “The betrothal agreement had been signed. The marriage taken place. The house d’Albret is owed nothing. It is not our fault the late duke handed out false promises like alms.”
I make no attempt to hide my scorn for the general. “I am surprised to learn that is how you prefer to win wars. By throwing gold at them. Perhaps you are not as fine a tactician as your reputation would have others believe. Surely anyone can throw gold at an enemy to make him go away. Indeed, I have always thought it more of a woman’s tactic.” I glance at the regent.
The thundering of Cassel’s enraged heart is so loud it’s a wonder not everyone can hear it.
The king shifts in his chair, his distaste plain on his face. “I have to agree. There is little honor in that.”
“Easy to say now, when you now sit atop the throne that we secured for you,” the regent says.
Another silence, this one a clash between the resentments of the two siblings. That is when I step in for the killing blow. “But the gold is not the whole of it, Your Majesty. According to their agreement, she is in his debt for failing to provide the successful ambush she’d promised him.”
The king’s face is awash in incomprehension—until it is not. His head whips back to his sister. “You were behind that?” he asks at the exact same moment that Pierre proclaims, “I had nothing to do with that. Nothing!”
In the deafening silence, I can hear all their hearts beating—rapid with excitement or anger or apprehension. The king clenches the arms of his throne and leans forward. “Is this true, Madame?”
“Of course not,” she says lightly. “Why would I set up such an elaborate scheme to return his sisters with no gain for myself or the crown?”
Why indeed? I think, and the king’s eyes narrow at the word crown.
“Well, then, you are either lying to Pierre or you are lying to the king. I would think long and hard on which it is,” I tell her. Then I address Pierre. “And, brother, I have to wonder why you would have reason to ambush the queen’s traveling party. Was it to insist she marry our father? Insist she marry you?”
“No!” Pierre’s face is white—he is terrified the king will believe me. Before the king can speak, the regent whirls on me, even now working in tandem with my brother. “I could have you hanged for such falsehoods.”
The king does not take his eyes from her. “Not when I have asked for her testimony.”
I feel the regent’s heartbeat stutter in panic as she shifts her gaze back to the king. “She is trying to distract you from her own crimes.”
“What crimes are those?”
She flings her hand out. “Fremin’s men, Fremin himself, the body that the search party found.”
At the mention of Fremin’s death, the king’s face hardens. “We have already adjudicated those claims and found her innocent. It seems to me that you are trying to distract us from yours.” My heart nearly sings in pure joy at having the king begin to see her clearly.
“Your Majesty.” Cassel steps forward, but the king rounds on him.
“She was under our protection, traveling to our wedding,” he says.
Cassel remains silent.
“There is no proof I was involved in the ambush,” the regent practically spits out.
“I recognized two of our attackers.” That is not precisely true, but I saw their souls, and the proof that they were associated with the house d’Albret. “They have worked for my brother before.”
“Then why not say so sooner?” the regent demands.
“Because I had assumed that they left his service and became mercenaries.”
“Of course that is what happened,” the regent scoffs.
“And so I would have continued to think—until I heard you admit in your conversation last night with Pierre that you were involved.”
Her head rears back as if she has been slapped. “I admitted no such thing.”
“Let us say revealed, then.”
To others, the regent’s pale face and pinched nostrils will look like anger, but I know them for fear. “Are you going to let her besmirch your own sister’s honor?”
It is only the fact that the king sits with his chin in his hand that keeps him from gaping at her. “The sort of honor that you have mocked me for valuing? That you claim has no place on the throne? No. I am going to adjourn so I may think upon all that I have learned and pray for the wisdom to find the truth in this mess.”
Chapter 50
Genevieve
“What did you learn?” Even though the queen’s attention is on the stitches she embroiders, she studies me from beneath her lashes.
To my embarrassment, I find myself tongue-tied before her, still unable to get over my shock at being summoned earlier this morning and asked to serve as one of her attendants. I would never have imagined receiving such an honor after our history together. “You were right. The meeting was called on behalf of Pierre d’Albret,” I tell her.
Sybella enters the room just then, coming to a stop when she sees me with the queen. Her look of astonishment is so great that I must bite my cheek to keep from laughing.
“Lady Sybella!” The queen waves her forward. “We’ve been waiting for you. Come, tell us how the meeting went.”
She stares from the queen back to me. “You knew of the hearing?”
“Genevieve told me.”
The glance Sybella sends me chases all thoughts of laughter from my mind. “You were spying on me?”
“She was there on my orders,” the queen says crisply.
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An almost hurt expression flits across Sybella’s face, then is quickly gone. The queen’s voice softens. “When I heard Pierre was here, I wanted someone near you at all times. It is not a matter of trust.”
Sybella looks as if she has been punched—albeit with a velvet-covered fist. “Your Majesty, while I am humbled and grateful for your concern, I am sorry that you felt you had to do such—”
The queen holds up her hand. “Spare me your unnecessary apologies, else I will be forced to apologize for my husband’s stupidity every five minutes. We have been over this many times, and while I am willing to repeat it until I am blue in the face, I would rather not have to.” I bite back a smile. “You are not responsible for your family’s actions. Now, how did it go?”
Sybella pauses a moment to collect herself. “It was not what anyone expected,” she says with a curious smile. Then she tells us what transpired, both in the meeting and during her confrontation with Pierre and the regent the night of the coronation ball.
The queen clasps her hands together and grins. “You essentially fired warning shots at both of them. I cannot help but be glad. I am tired of them backing us into corners. Let us see how they like it for a change.”
“Well,” Sybella reminds her, “cornered dogs do tend to bite.”
“We are prepared for that.”
Sybella pauses, as if undergoing some internal struggle. “I have more news. Some of it good, some of it less so.”
The queen wrinkles her nose. “Let us start with the bad.”
“Before we left Brittany, Captain Dunois confided in me that Beast’s father still lived. Not his mother’s husband, but the man who raped her and got her with child. That man is General Cassel.”
The name causes me to gasp. “But of course,” the queen murmurs. “Now that you point it out, I wonder that I did not see the similarities before.”
“That is one of the reasons the captain told me. He said the resemblance would be undeniable. Which brings me to the good news. Beast is back.”
