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Chapter 107
Sybella
Fortune smiles on me again on the third day as the skies open up and release a torrent of rain, forcing us to stay inside. Since I have learned all I can about the outer defenses, it is time to turn my attention to what the keep itself has to offer up.
“But why do you want to be down in the storerooms?” Jamette asks in a plaintive whine.
“What else have you got to do?”
“I don’t know. Drink wine. Play draughts. Embroider. Anything that involves being in front of a fire and warm.”
I glance at her over my shoulder. “The exercise will do you good. You have grown soft and pasty-looking.”
Her mouth snaps shut, and she looks down at her bodice. It is not true. If anything, she has grown sharp and brittle, as if a single blow could turn her into fragments. But arguing with me gives her an outlet for all the bilious humor that is eating away at her.
“Besides,” I say more gently, “the keep is old and drafty, and I wanted to see if there were any tapestries or bedding or carpets we could use to help keep out the cold air.” That reasoning appeases her somewhat. “You take that side, I’ll take this one.”
She nods and moves off toward the right, while I veer left to where the stored items look distinctly unlike bedding or tapestries.
“You should leave,” I tell her.
She snorts. “My life is worth nothing if I leave you alone.”
“I don’t mean this minute. I mean leave the holding.”
“I already told you, I’ve nowhere to go,” she says as she wrestles with a large roll of heavy fabric.
“And I have told you that you are wrong about that. There is only death for you here, Jamette, be it a fast one or a slow one. You are too young to resign yourself to this fate.” I see a stack of barrels and draw closer.
“Is that not our lot in life? To resign ourselves to fate?”
“No. We must fight and push and shove. Put our hand on Fortune’s wheel to give it our own spin.”
Her mulish gaze is joined by something else—something too feeble to be called hope, but interest, mayhap. “And how does one do that?”
“By leaping.” The barrels hold wine and cooking oil. Beside them are vats of tallow. In short, a wealth of substances that will cheerfully catch fire.
She glances to where I’ve been staring. “You have grown mad again.”
I casually turn to my right and examine whatever is in front of my nose. It is a stack of old straw mattresses. More flammable materials. “I don’t mean leaping out the window, you foolish goose. I mean taking a chance. Risk. Stepping outside what you know and hoping it will be better than what you’re used to. It cannot be worse.”
“And where am I to go?” She flings her hands out to her side. “I do not have a duchess who will take me in or a knight who will run away with me. I am not brave or skilled like you are. I am just a girl who has nothing—no family, no future, no one to turn to. I do not wish to sell myself on the streets to any man who fancies me.”
“I do not wish that for you either, but there are other choices. None of them anything like the future you once hoped for. But they can lead to a good life, a solid one with moments of happiness and contentment.” I do not just want her away from the fire when it starts, but from Pierre as well. She can survive a burn, but I am not convinced she can survive Pierre.
She folds her arms. “Like what?”
“I think the convent of Saint Brigantia is your best choice.”
She barks out a laugh. “So whore or nun? Those are my choices?”
“Many Brigantians do not take a vow of celibacy. Convents are also places of learning, of second chances, places where girls like you may find respite from the world while you decide what path to take.” I take a step closer to her, marveling at what a sapskull I’ve become to care about her. “I promise you, it will be better than this one that you’re on.”
The guardedness finally falls away from her eyes. “Even if I were to want that, how would I possibly get free of here?” she asks in a small voice.
It has worked—I have piqued her interest. “You watch for a chance to escape. We are surrounded by chance and happenstance every day. We’ve only to watch for it.”
“Is that what you were looking for yesterday? Happenstance?”
I steadily meet her gaze. “No. I was hoping to see if they had any messenger pigeons in the mews.”
She huffs out a sigh. “They don’t. Now, stop all this talking and snooping, else you get us both in trouble.”
There. I have said all I can without risking giving away my entire plan. I will have to hope that it will be enough.
Chapter 108
Genevieve
Once I am packed, I change into my plainest, most serviceable gown. Hopefully, Beast will have been freed from his prison by now. He will want to know of Sybella’s fate—and will likely wish to come with me.
His help would be most welcome.
I slip out of my room intending to find Maraud and let him know what has happened. I will not simply disappear on him again. Besides, like Beast, he may wish to come with me, and I would not mind the backup. Although, if the king accepts my challenge, that could prove awkward.
But he won’t. That would require setting aside a worldview he has too heavy a stake in.
The palace at Nantes is big, and I have no idea which of the many rooms Maraud has been given. I spend a quarter hour searching, wishing, for the dozenth time, that my gift was more like Sybella’s and I could sense heartbeats of the living.
In the end, there are simply too many rooms, and I do not wish to delay my departure any longer. Mayhap I can find Jaspar or Valine and leave a message with them.
Outside in the palace courtyard, a handful of courtiers linger near the dovecote, and servants scurry to and from the well, but there is no sign of Maraud. I hitch the pack higher on my shoulder and begin making my way to the stables at the end of the yard. Just as I pass the old round tower whose stones are roughened with age, the door flies open and Maraud steps out, his face holding all the furies of a winter storm.
“What is wrong?” I ask.
It takes him a moment to register it is me. “Genevieve!” He grabs my arm and pulls me to the south end of the tower, away from the palace windows that glitter like so many eyes. “He is gone.” The words nearly explode out of him.
My head is so full of my concern for Sybella that I can’t process his words. “Who is gone?”
Anger sparks in his eyes. “Beast. That rutting pig Cassel left the palace and took Beast with him.”
I swear violently as Sybella’s chance for rescue grows slimmer. “How? The man is bigger than an ox and cannot have gone willingly.”
Maraud glares at the tower, as if trying to discern the answer from its walls. “I don’t know. But I will find out.” For the first time, he notices my gown and the pack slung over my shoulder. “Where are you going?” Then he looks at my face. “What’s wrong? You look pale as a corpse.”
“The king handed Sybella over to Pierre three days before I got here. I am going after her. I was trying to find you and Beast before I left.”
It is Maraud’s turn to swear most foully. “Two people we must rescue.”
“And no idea where either of them are.”
In frustration, Maraud puts his hand on his head and stares up at the sky. “D’Albret might have taken Sybella to Givrand. It is much nearer than Limoges and is where he staged the troops and supplies he needed for the rebellion. At the very least, he will have stopped there on his way to another holding. He won’t risk taking such an unwilling prisoner to an inn.”
I nod and veer toward the stables. “I will start there. I had hoped you could come with me, but you must go after Beast, and I will find Sybella.”
Maraud looks at me as if I have sprouted horns. “You cannot wander into that viper pit alone. We will come with you.”
“We?”
?
??Jaspar and the others are here in Nantes, awaiting my instructions.”
“They need to go with you. Given Cassel’s penchant for both brutality and cruelty, we cannot just leave Beast to his care. There is no knowing what he intends to do.”
“As you said, Beast is strong as an ox, and I know he would rather we spend our efforts on Sybella before coming for him. In truth, he would likely have my bones for breakfast if I were to do anything else. I’ll send Andry and Tassin after Beast.”
