Dark Triumph - LaFevers Robin - Страница 8
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She looks at me warily. I lean forward. “It is a game. A trick you must play on the entire palace. To prove that a girl is better than a boy. Can you do that?”
She looks to Tilde, who nods, then turns back to me, and I am relieved to see that some of the fear has left her face. “Yes,” she whispers, so soft and quiet no one could ever mistake her voice for a boy’s.
I turn to Tilde. “Try to see that she does not speak. Her voice will give her away.” Then I lift my knife. “I must do yours as well.”
The serving girl does not falter but steps closer for me to reach. “I cannot ever repay you,” she whispers.
“You have only to get free,” I say as I cut her hair. “That is payment enough.”
An hour later, they are safely tucked up on the seat of the night-soil cart. Odette protests loudly at first. “Bud id stinks!” she says, holding her nose.
I glance slyly at Tilde. “I warned you you might not thank me, but it is the only cart that leaves during the night and can get you into the city without question.”
“It is fine,” Tilde says through the scarf she has brought up to her face to cut the smell. We stare into each other’s eyes for a beat, and the gratitude I see there warms me, makes me think there is some small sliver of good left inside me. I reach out and grab her hand. Squeeze it. “Be strong. Once inside the city, take yourself to the convent of Saint Brigantia. Tell them—tell them the abbess of Saint Mortain has asked that they grant you sanctuary.”
Tilde’s eyes widen at that, but before she can say anything, the night-soil man calls out, “You gonna gab all night or can I be about my business?”
“Hush—you got your payment,” I remind him.
He spits off to the side. “Won’t be worth nothing if I don’t get out of here.”
True enough.
As I watch them leave, I am filled with a nearly overpowering need to follow them. Follow them out of the stable yard, past the guard tower, and into the streets of the city, where I can lose myself among the crowds of people. I take one step, and another, then stop. If I go with them, d’Albret will send a full contingent after us. Tilde and Odette’s chances of escape are much better without me.
Besides, I was sent here to do a job, and like that last knight who held off d’Albret’s men this afternoon, I will not leave the field until it is done.
I have not been in bed but half a turn of a glass when the scratching at my door begins. It is soft at first, no more than the whispering of leaves in the wind or the creaking of branches against the wall. I hold still in my bed, listening more closely. There it is again. This time more distinct. My heart begins to pound, and I lift my head from the pillow.
Scritch, scritch, pause, scritch, scritch, scritch.
It is Julian, using the secret code we devised when we were children, a dozen lifetimes ago. But it is not a child’s game he wants to play tonight. I burrow farther into the mattress and pull the covers up over my ears, then hear the muffled rattle as he lifts the latch. I hold very still and keep my breathing even, praying that he will close the door and move on, relieved when he does.
Even so, the scratching follows me into my dreams and turns them into nightmares.
Chapter Four
I AM AWAKENED IN THE morning when my two ladies in waiting come bursting into the room. Jamette de Lur leads the way, pausing barely long enough to keep the door open for Tephanie Blaine, who struggles with a tray.
“Did you hear?” Jamette asks.
She is a vain, silly girl given to drama and putting on airs and takes far too much pleasure in my fall from d’Albret’s favor. “Good morning to you too,” I drawl.
Reminded of her place, she flushes slightly, then dips a begrudging curtsy. “Good morning, my lady.”
“What is this news you are screeching about?”
She is torn between denying that she was screeching and launching into her drama. The drama wins. “They rooted out a nest of traitors and rebels yesterday! If not for their quick action, we could all have been slaughtered in our beds.”
So that is the story d’Albret and the others are putting out. There is a faint rattle as Tephanie sets the tray down on a table. “Also, a servant girl went missing during the night.”
I throw off the covers and get to my feet. “My, the castle was busy while I slept! Surely this servant just snuck off to visit her lover?”
Tephanie looks at me with stricken eyes and I see that she is genuinely frightened. “They searched the castle high and low and found no signs of her.”
Jamette tosses her head and hands me my chamber robe. “Some say she was in league with the traitors.”
Debile! I should have seen that coming. I was so concerned with getting them away as soon as possible I didn’t stop to consider the timing.
“I heard she was killed for seeing something she shouldn’t have,” Tephanie says as she gives me a cup of heated wine.
My head snaps up to study her more closely, but she does not appear to be insinuating anything. “Where did you hear that?”
She shrugs. “The servants were talking when I fetched your tray.”
I say nothing and sip the wine, taking a moment to compose myself.
Jamette’s eyes go wide. “Mayhap the ghosts got her.”
I bite back a sigh. Must I give up sleeping altogether in order to stay abreast of what goes on in this castle? “What ghosts?” I ask.
“The ones in the old tower. It is well and truly haunted. Many have heard the ghosts moaning and wailing and making a terrible noise.”
Tephanie crosses herself, then turns to me. “Here is your clean chemise, my lady.”
I set down my wine and shrug out of my robe. Tephanie’s cheeks pinken with embarrassment as she helps me into my shift. “My lady is growing thin,” she murmurs. “You must try to eat more.”
While I cannot help but wish she were less observant, I am inexplicably touched that she has noticed.
“It does not help your looks any that you insist on wearing all these dark colors,” Jamette says, holding out a gown of patterned black brocade. “It makes you appear unnaturally pale.” What she chafes at is that my complexion is fairer than hers.
“I’m afraid my time at the convent of Saint Brigantia has lessened my love of material luxuries,” I tell her. Since rejoining d’Albret’s household, I have worn nothing but somber colors—not because of some newfound piousness, but out of respect for all those d’Albret has murdered.
Tephanie hands me the silver chain from which my special crucifix hangs and helps to fasten it about my waist. The chain also holds nine glass rosary beads, one for each of the old saints and every one of them filled with poison. “If we hurry,” she says, “we can attend mass this morning.”
I glance up at her. “Do you want to attend mass?”
She shrugs. “It seems like a good day for it.”
“Tephanie, my little mouse, what forgiveness must you pray for?” Her sins can only be those of a small child—the wanting of a sweet or a new gown. But she blushes in embarrassment, and I am pricked with guilt for having teased her. “Go,” I tell her. “Attend your mass.”
Her face falls. “You mean, alone?”
“I do not wish to pray for forgiveness.”
“Although, Heavenly Father knows, you need it more than most,” Jamette mutters. I pretend I do not hear her but add it to her long list of transgressions.
“Wait,” I tell Tephanie. “You are right. With rebels and ghosts lurking in every corner, it is not safe to wander this castle’s halls.” They do not catch my irony, but the truth is, we have more to fear from those who claim to protect us than from any rebel or spirit.
I tug my skirt into place and then hurry to one of my trunks. I retrieve two of my smaller knives and turn back to the others.
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