Dark Triumph (His Fair Assassin #2)(54)
Author: Robin LaFevers

It is all I can do to keep from leaping from my chair and hugging her.

“But of course, child. She was sired by Mortain, which is how she comes to serve the convent. But she was raised by d’Albret in his household for the first fourteen years of her life. For a certainty, d’Albret considers her his daughter.”

Duval shifts in his chair and sends the abbess an unreadable look. That is when I realize he does not trust her. “I would think the more important question would be whose daughter Sybella considers herself to be. My lady?”

I look up and meet his kind gray eyes. He is giving me a chance to answer this accusation, and I begin to understand why Ismae is so fond of him. “The happiest moment of my life was when I learned I had not been sired by d’Albret, my lord. For as dark as Mortain is, He is a beacon of holy light compared to the baron. So yes, I consider myself Mortain’s daughter.”

Beast shifts in his chair, and every particle of my being screams at me not to be such a coward and look at him. But still I do not, certain that what I will see will break even my hard, shriveled heart.

“Then the matter is settled,” the duchess says. “And it seems to me that if what the lady Sybella says is even remotely feasible, then we have nothing to lose by including that possibility in our plans. Much as when we expect an attack from the north, we still arrange for a strategy in the south, should we be proven wrong.”

Captain Dunois strokes his chin and slowly nods his assent. “That seems wise to me.”

“It cannot hurt,” the chancellor concedes.

But the bishop is still reluctant. “I fear it will draw our energy and resources away from more dire needs.”

“Even so,” the duchess says. “We will act as if every word she says is true.” She turns from the bishop to me. “Tell me, demoiselle, do you have any suggestions for us to consider?”

“We have secured a betrothal agreement with the Holy Roman emperor,” Duval adds. “We could make that public if you think that will deter d’Albret at all. But if we announce it, the French will use it as an excuse to launch a full attack.”

I shake my head. “I fear that news would only make d’Albret move more quickly—to prevent the marriage—rather than stay his hand. But I do agree that the duchess will only be safe once she is married. You must find a way to make the marriage happen now.”

Duval smiles wryly. “That will be difficult with the Holy Roman emperor off fighting in Hungary.”

Without troops, without a strong husband by her side, she is lost.

“Demoiselle.”

At the duchess’s gentle voice, I raise my head to meet her gaze. “You look utterly exhausted and we would command that you go find rest so we may speak again tomorrow. Thank you again for the great service you have done on our behalf.”

I stand and sink into a curtsy. “It was an honor, Your Grace.” And to my surprise, I find the words are true. I relish having something to lay before her besides more deaths. Even if that something now stares at me with hot, furious eyes.

With the meeting adjourned, I follow the abbess out into the hall, my jaw clenched tightly. When we are out of earshot of the others, I surprise both of us by reaching out and grabbing her arm. She stops immediately and looks down at my fingers resting on her sleeve. Even though my heart is pounding at my own daring, I wait a beat before removing my hand. When I do, the abbess lifts her cool blue gaze to my face and raises her eyebrows.

“Why?” I ask. “Why did you tell them who I am?”

She frowns slightly. “So they would know to believe you.”

I study her closely. Is it that simple? Was she only trying to support my claim? “While it is true that their knowing my lineage chased away their doubts, I cannot help but think you could simply have confirmed my statements without revealing my true identity.” Without revealing that I come from a family renowned for its cruelty and depravity—never mind that I have now just betrayed that same family, which is all many will see in my actions.

She moves her hand in an impatient gesture. “It does not matter that they know. Indeed, it is good for them to realize what powerful tools the convent has at its disposal and how long its reach is.” She gives a curt nod, then removes herself from the hall, and I am left standing there, a lamb sacrificed for the elevation of the convent.

Without thinking, I head toward the castle door. I have no desire to go to my chamber and wait for Ismae to search me out, with a hurt and puzzled look in her eyes.

The cool night air does little to soothe my fury. My entire body itches with rage, as if it will burst out of my skin. I do the only thing I can think of, which is begin walking. Away from the palace, away from the abbess, away from Beast, whom my secrets have betrayed. Even with my talent for breaking things, I am astounded at the speed with which I have destroyed this budding friendship.

He knows. He knows I am the daughter of the man who killed his beloved sister. He knows that I have hardly opened my mouth without lying to him. Even now, he is likely going over every question he has ever asked and remembering all the lies I have told him.

He knows I have been shaped in the same dark stuff, with as little redemptive value. It would have been easier if I had been branded a whore or cast out as a leper.

My breath catches in my throat, and I press the heels of my hands against my eyes. It feels as if I’ve ruined one of the few things that has ever truly mattered.

At first, I was simply unwilling to admit to anyone—especially a prisoner d’Albret had treated so poorly—that I was a d’Albret. Then later, when I learned of Beast’s connection to the family, nothing on earth could have compelled me to tell him the truth of who I was.

What else could I have told him but lies? The first time he asked we were but half a league from Nantes with no reason to trust each other. How would I have gotten him to safety?

My one true opportunity came at Guion’s farm, when Beast asked me to tell him of his sister. But while I am strong enough to kill a man in cold blood, play Julian’s razor-edged games, and rebel against the abbess, I was not strong enough to kill that mysterious, tender something that had sprung up between us in that moment.

And that weakness has cost me everything with Beast.

No. There could never have been anything between us. I was given a chance to tilt the scales of justice—just a bit—and that was all. As nice as it was to have someone view me in a flattering light, I was never worthy of his true regard. And now, now he will know that the person he saw when he looked at me was not real.