“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?
The only one who gains by Anne’s death is France, at least as far as I can reckon. And no matter how I turn that over in my mind, I cannot reconcile it with Chancellor Crunard’s lukewarm support of Duval. Hoping the abbess will be able to shed some light on the possibilities, I finish the letter and send Vanth on his way.
with that task done, I turn my attention to the rest of the day and try to think what to do with myself. I have already oiled all my weapons, and Madame Dinan will not admit me to the solar. Besides, the Privy Council is meeting there this morning —
And then I have my plan.
With everyone in the Privy Council meeting, it is easy enough to slip into Madame Dinan’s and Marshal Rieux’s chambers unobserved. All it takes is a well-chosen moment and the twist of a needle-like blade, then I am inside. Dinan’s apartments are much like the woman herself, coldly beautiful but containing no warmth or heart. Marshal Rieux’s rooms are grand and sumptuous, which is no surprise. He seems the sort to demand luxury, not so much for his own pleasure but because it is befitting for someone of his stature. even so, his chamber holds no proof or evidence of any treacherous dealings.
That leaves only Crunard.
Fear scuttles across my shoulders at the thought of searching his rooms. He is the convent’s liaison, after all, and appears to be a great confidant of the abbess. Somehow, I doubt very much she will thank me if I expose him as a traitor.
But she is hundreds of miles away, and the young duchess is running out of options. Her needs seem more urgent than the tender sensibilities of the abbess.
I make my way back through the halls to the chancellor’s office. It is early afternoon and I fear their council may well be over. Not to mention they have no doubt discovered Duval’s absence by now. even so, I must try.
As I reach the chancellor’s door, I cast my senses out and realize he is in there. And he is not alone. Since there is no one else in the hallway, I put my ear to the door. The two male voices are close. with a start, I realize they are at the door itself. Less than a second later, it opens. I try to look surprised, my hand raised as if to knock. “Chancellor Crunard,” I say.
He scowls. “Demoiselle Rienne. what are you doing here?”
I try very hard not to look at the man Crunard is escorting out of his office. “I have come to see if you know where my lord Duval is.” It is a bold move, but I can think of no other reason to explain my presence at his door.
“No, I do not know where he has gone,” Chancellor Crunard says. “I was going to send for you to ask the same question.”
Unable to help myself any longer, I glance at Crunard’s visitor. It is the French envoy, Gisors. His brilliant green eyes study me intently.