Lilith Saintcrow: The Bandit King

“Tis life, d’mselle . Are you certain? I like not the idea of leaving you here. Come with us. My men are not so polished, perhaps, but they are loyal, and each one will fight to his last breath.”

“ You will need all their protection. Please, sieur . Keep yourself safe. Much now depends on you.”

“Come with us.” Still he persisted, his tone becoming far more serious than it should have been. “If it is right for me to flee, it cannot be right to leave you here.”

“The Aryx chose me.” The sadness was almost too much to bear. “Even now, you see, it will not move from my flesh. I am tied to this fate until I can find a way to slip its chain. If the gods speak to me tonight, I may even find a way to salvage something of my country.” There was a soft sound, and when she spoke next her voice was muffled. “Go. Please. I feel the need to succumb afresh to a most ladylike crying-fit, and I would not have you watch. It disarranges me, you see.”

“D’mselle—” He caught himself. “Vianne. My fair cousine . I would not leave you here, as a kit among wolves.”

Worry not, di Cinfiliet. This wolf will not let his little kit receive the slightest harm, and his teeth are sharper than yours.

“Fear not. This kit will soon grow her teeth. Go, Adrien. Please.” Velvet moved. Had she embraced him? It hurt to think of it, and hurt equally to think of her planning so quickly and thoroughly. How could she think herself in danger from my quarter?

Why had I said poison ? A fool’s move. I was accustomed to lying with far more aplomb. Now I was trapped by the story.

“Should you need me, send for me.”

“Do not return unless I send the other half as a token. Go. Must I beg you?”

“No. D’mselle ?”

“Oh, for the sake of the Blessed, what ?” Irritation, wedded to sorrow and flashing witchlight-quick. I knew that tone of hers; my heart leapt to hear it. I wanted to take her in my arms, my bones aching with the need.

I could almost see the fey smile he practiced upon her. “My thanks.” The sound of the door opening, his boots retreating.

I could not help myself. I dropped my hand from my rapier-hilt and edged closer to the wall, seeking one of the small holes glowing with lamplight. I peered through, almost holding my breath.

The room was not so severe as I had imagined. There was a bed, two chairs by the fireplace, a washstand in the corner, and a door slightly ajar to the watercloset. I could see a glitter that was the jeweled statue of the Huntress, her bow lowered. The lamps hissed, and it would be cold tonight; had they not thought to lay a fire for my Vianne?

She stood straight and slim, facing the bed. As I watched, she turned in a full circle, looking about the room, her skirts making a low sweet noise. I could not see her face; the angle was wrong.

“Tristan,” she whispered, and I started guiltily, though I was well hidden. There was no way for her to know I watched. “What I would not give to be assured of…”

Twas not the words themselves. It was the tone, numb agony in her soft, cultured voice. Of all the people who should sound so hopeless, she was the last.

It fair threatened to tear my heart from my chest. All I have done has been for you. I longed to tell her so, put my mouth to the hole I watched through and whisper the words. Would she think it the gods speaking to her?

She took two halting steps toward the door; that removed her from my sight. Did she think to flee? No, for she immediately turned back and walked with quick, unsteady steps to the bed, flung herself down. She had not lied; she sobbed fit to break both her heart and mine.

Oh, Vianne. I should have been at her side, to hold her while she wept. I should have told her. I should have made her somehow understand.

At least you are forewarned. If I hewed to the tale of my innocence, would it satisfy? Why, in the name of the Blessed, had I told her Henri was poisoned ? I had not been thinking clearly.

Now I was, and I had to move with some speed if I were to save myself.

“Captain?” Jierre’s lean, dark face greeted me as I stepped into the small room given over to our use, a pilgrim’s cell in the heart of the Temple. Adrien was apparently deep in prayer before a statue of Danshar the Warrior in the central nave; Tinan stood guard at Vianne’s door and it irked me to leave him there.

No matter. I would return soon enough.

They had dined, di Cinfiliet and the Guard; I did not. Time enough for that later. Now, as Danae the priestess prepared our d’mselle for her dreaming in the house of the Blessed, my expression brought Jierre to his feet. The remains of their dinner lay on the table, and there were four cots.

Adersahl did not look up. He sank into a chair by the fireplace, staring into the flames. His brow was thoughtful, but not troubled.

I led Jierre into the hall. “This goes to the Keep.” I thrust the hastily penned letter into his hands. “Do what is necessary to delay di Cinfiliet’s departure until my father reads it.”

My lieutenant nodded. No shadow of doubt marred his clear, dark eyes; none ever had. “And should our bandit take umbrage…?”

“I trust your judgment.”

He flashed me a wry smile. “A relief, I was beginning to think I had none left.”

“Precious little, Jierre. After all, you are still following me.” Through even the gates of the underworld, you said once. You were drunk, and you thought I was, too.

“That, my Captain, is a matter of taste. Not judgment. Look after the d’mselle .”

“As always.” If only you knew how I look after her. “Make haste.”

He left with a spring in his step, a spare, sinewy man whose quick eyes and fine mind were worth far more than a King’s Guard could ever be paid. He had held the last survivors of the Guard on the slopes of Mont di Cienne, waiting with unshaken faith for me to emerge from the bowels of the donjons. Which I had… but only because Vianne had trusted me.

Because I could not stand the thought of your beheading, Captain. Her chin lifting as she took me to task, a memory I did not have time to savor.

I stepped through the door again, bracing myself. Adersahl remained in the chair, staring into the fire. He did not stroke his mustache, and that spelled certain trouble.

I affected nonchalance, my thumbs in my belt. “ Sieur di Parmecy et Villeroche.”

He waved a languid hand. “Captain. Standing on ceremony?”

“No more than usual.” You defended me. Loyal as she is. “How is she, Adersahl?”

He stared into the flames as if they held the Unanswerable Riddle’s full solution. “I would be surprised if you did not know, Captain.” It hurt, to hear him accord me the title with such brittle formality.

Are you feinting to draw me out? “I know far more than anyone credits, and far less than I like. For example, I think I know who is loyal to me. Strange, how rare such a quality is.”

“Rare, yes. Very important in a King’s Guard.”

Ah. “Even more important in a Queen’s.”

He nodded. “Even so.” He paused, as if he would speak. Settled for repeating himself. “Even so.”

I drew my breath in softly; my hand curled around my rapier-hilt. All the Guard are trained in swordplay as well as Court sorcery; I had insisted upon as much when I took the reins of command. It had done little good for those taken by treachery. But those who had survived were the best of comrades—and the worst of enemies.

Let us see how well I cast my dice. I found my throat full of something, could not speak for a moment. My gaze dropped to his boot-toes.