Shadow's End (Light & Shadow) (17 page)

“You don’t understand any of this,” I whispered back. “All you know is the Court and its lies—but there’s more to life. There’s honor, and love, and justice. How could you hope to know my secrets when you don’t understand that?” He jerked back as if I had slapped him, a flush rising in his cheeks, and then he closed his fingers around my wrist and pulled me close.

“
Never
tell me that I do not understand that,” he whispered harshly, his face inches from mine, and then he was gone, and I was rubbing my aching wrist and staring after him, pulse still racing, feeling that I had made a terrible misstep, but not knowing how.

Chapter 17

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I whispered to Miriel. I had bound my hair back once more, and patted my torso to make sure that all of my weapons were in place.  “I shouldn’t be long. Miriel…”

“What?” She rolled over on her side to look at me; I could see her hair glinting.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take the treaty?” I knew her answer, but I had to ask. “It would be simpler to have done with it now.”

“No,” Miriel said. It was the third time we had gone over this, and where she had once sounded defensive, now she only sounded weary “Let be, Catwin.”

“I’ll be back, then.” I slipped out the door without another word, and made my way, light-footed, across the main chamber. The Duke had gone to bed only moments before, and I hoped that the sound of his undressing an making ready for bed would shield the sound of my footsteps. I opened the door as quietly as I could, and bit back a sigh when the Duke’s guards looked round at me. I stifled a yawn. “Do you know if there are any healers closer than the ones all those floors up?” I asked hopefully, as I closed the door behind me. Wordless, they shook their heads, and I sighed. “Well, thank you. If the lady asks, tell her I went—and I’ll be back as soon as I can.” I set off, and as soon as I was out of sight, took the next stairwell down, heading for the kitchens.

“A fruit pie,” I said to the lone chef who was manning the fires. “And a bottle of wine. And some cheese.”

“Oh, is that all?” he asked me nastily. “Run along, boy, I’ve enough trouble without you asking favors of me.”

“It’s for the Queen,” I said sharply, and he jerked into wakefulness.

“Oh. Of course. At once. Where should I send it?”

“I’m to bring it. They just said to her, isn’t it the same apartments as the King?” The cook gleamed, pleased to know something I did not. He shook his head.

“No, she’s got her own apartments, very fine—above his, even.”

“No!” I said, as if scandalized that anyone shoul
d set themselves above the King. “Truly?” He nodded.

“Guy de la Marque said it had to be so, and
a mighty fuss that caused.” He was finishing up at his work, his hands busy as he scraped vegetable peelings onto the floor, to be swept up. “But her condition, you know,” he said, confidentially.

“Oh, I know.”

He sent a page running for a bottle of wine, and bustled into the storeroom for cheese and a pie, and I sat, kicking my heels and sneaking bites of a cold meat pie until they were back.

“Very good of you,” I said graciously, and the cook bobbed a bow to me.

“Anything she needs, you send to me,” he said. “She’s to have everything she wants.”

“I’ll tell them to ask for you,” I said, and slipped out, taking the stairs two at a time in my haste to be at the presence chamber before the Duke realized I was gone. I was panting by the time I arrived, and so I was pleased to see that I had been correct: this floor was
nearly deserted. The Courtiers who flocked to the King’s chambers by day were all abed, and even the Council was adjourned at this hour. It was child’s play to avoid the lone two guards who patrolled the outer, curving corridor, and sneak into the presence chamber.

Now to see if my second guess held true. I slipped through the presence chamber, lifting the door to the Council rooms slightly so that it would not squeak as I opened it. I looked around myself, and breathed a sigh of relief that there were no guards. In the corner, as I had hoped, there was a doorway to a private staircase.
Holding my breath, hardly daring to think about what I was doing, I opened the door and crept up the stairs, emerging into the King’s private chambers.

When I peeked my head out of the stairwell, I saw that Wilhelm was alone, sitting at his desk and poring over a scroll, taking notes on a sheet of paper. His desk was piled with books and maps, and even from here I could see the tired slump of his shoulders. It did not look as if the crown had brought Wilhelm much
joy, or much luck. I took a moment to listen for the noise of another person breathing; a groom of the bedchamber, perhaps, or Marie. When no sound came, I cleared my throat. His head jerked up, his gaze wide and frightened, and I held my hands up, showing him that I did not hold weapons.

“Wilhelm—Your Grace—it’s Catwin. I am
the Lady Miriel’s servant.” I bowed slightly, and he nodded.

“I remember you,” he said, his tone even.
His face had settled to stillness once more. He took a deep breath. “But you can go—I will not see Mi—the Lady.” I took some small measure of hope from his use of her name.
I will remind him of what he is
, Miriel had said, but it seemed that he had not truly forgotten. It could take only the slightest nudge to tip the balance.

“I think you would see her, if you knew why she was asking,” I guessed. “Begging your pardon. Your Grace.” I bobbed a bow, and gave a sigh at my own incompetence. I had never been good at proper forms of address, and the months away from Court had done my small skill no favors.

“And why is that, then?”  Wilhelm gave up the pretense of writing at last. He set down his quill and stared at me warily. His eyes were red-rimmed from lack of sleep, and I remembered that while the Court had been carousing until late, he had made a single, joyous toast and then slipped away from the feast early. He must have come back here, alone, to sit in fear and wonder if Heddred would destroyed within the week. I could only hope that my words would give him hope and not greater despair. F

or the first time, I hoped that Miriel was right about Wilhelm, not for her sake, but for his. One look at him showed that he desperately needed something to hope for.
At long last, I felt my suspicion begin to bleed away—after the long days at court, it was a shock to see someone who seemed to have nothing on his conscience at all. Wilhelm was exhausted and fearful, nothing more; I could see no guilt in his eyes.

Still, I was cautious.

“Your Grace, it is a matter of utmost importance that no one else knows this.” I cast an anxious look behind me down the stairwell. “Please tell me—are you alone? If not, can whoever else is here be trusted?”

“You have no need to worry,” he said, ambiguously. Even as I cursed his phrasing, I applauded his caution. Wilhelm had seen the last King slain; he would keep any intruder on their guard. I wondered, suddenly, if he had suspected us, just as we had suspected him.

“Very well,” I said. “I will speak plainly: Miriel carries with her a signed treaty from the southern leaders of the rebellion. She made a bargain with them that if they would do all in their power to turn back the invasion, she would secure them their rights in law. Even now, they should be harrying the Ismiri army. They’ll be poisoning the grain stores, setting the horses free, torching wagons—they’re not a large force, but they’ve been trained.” I said a silent prayer to the Gods to protect these men. Even now, in the midst of the court, the guilt was never far away; I hoped that we had not sent every one of them to their deaths.

Wilhelm was staring at me at me, dumbstruck. “Miriel hopes that you are still true to the rebellion,” I finished. “She hopes that you will sign the treaty.”

“She…” He shook his head, dazed. “That is why she wanted to see me, then? Nothing else?” He forced a smile, but I saw the truth in his eyes: he had wanted Miriel to seek him out for his own sake, and so he had turned me away, sure that he could not do the same if she were to stand before him. I did not know what to say. Miriel would have some pretty phrase, but I was hopeless at these things, afraid that if I told Wilhelm of Miriel’s love, he would once more retreat behind the cold mask of honor.

“She would never cause you pain,” I said finally. It was the best I could do, but he grimaced at it. “She understands how things must be.”

“Please tell her that I would never have married Marie, if there had been another way,” he pleaded, and I looked away from the regret I saw in his eyes. “You must tell her—“

“Your Grace, why not tell her yourself?” I broke in softly.

“I cannot bear to see her,” he said simply, his words confirming my guess. I wished that I might have persuaded Miriel to give me the treaty. Who could understand better than I that Miriel would wish to see Wilhelm? But it could only come to pain. Indeed, Wilhelm was shaking his head. “You must tell her—“ He broke off and dropped his face into his hands.

“Just as you promised her that you would never dishonor her, so she would never dishonor you,” I promised him. “She has given me her word that when the treaty is signed, and the war won, she will leave the Court so that neither of you are tormented by this.”

“I think of her every day,” Wilhelm said brokenly. “Her leaving will not help.” I stared at him, not knowing what to say to such a broken admission of grief, and at last he squared his shoulders. “I will see her again,” he said. “Once more. Please, only tell her that I would never have married another without cause.”

“I will tell her that,” I agreed
, after a pause; I had no wish to torment Miriel with hope, but no wish, either, for her to doubt Wilhelm. “When shall I bring her here?”

“We can’t meet here,” he decided. “If anyone saw her, it would be…” He shook his head and his brow furrowed. “Is there any way she can accompany the Council when they ride out in two days?” he asked. “In the camp…I think we could arrange for a meeting.”

“We will do what we can.” I nodded. “I will send word to you from the camp. I will leave you now, your Grace. I…brought you this. I needed some excuse to be in the hallways.” I gestured to the wine and pie, and he smiled absently, his mind already far away.

“Thank you,” he said. He sat back down to his work, but I knew that he could see none of it. His thoughts were of Miriel, and I did not want to intrude, but as I turned to leave, I remembered one more thing.

“Also,” I said, turning back. “The guards downstairs in the Council chamber.”

“Yes?” He frowned at me; he had been lost in his memories.

“There are none,” I explained. “Your Grace. I really think there should be.” He gave me a bemused smile.

“Thank you,” he said, and I slipped out.

When I was down the stairs, I took a moment to look around the Council chamber. So this, in these troubles times, was where the business of the realm was done. A long table stretched down the room, surrounded by high-backed chairs. But other than a small sideboard, the room had no adornments at all; I was impressed. I knew that the Councilors spent their hours here, and it seemed they were not reveling in luxury, after all. Perhaps these men would not stand wholly in Wilhelm’s way as he strove to pass the new laws spoken of in the treaty.

I was still feeling pleased with myself when I made my way out of the roo
m and into the presence chamber. I stopped when I saw that there was a single figure standing, waiting for me in the darkened room, and I was so confused to see that it was the Duke, that my mind went blank and I froze. That was my mistake; barely a moment later, I had been thrown to the ground, the wind knocked out of me. In the next moment, I was hauled upward again, one of Temar’s hands tangled in my hair, the other pressing against my throat, and I was staring into the Duke’s merciless eyes.

“Why were you going to see the King, Catwin?”

“To see—“ I could hardly breathe. “—if he would agree to see Miriel.”

“Truly?”

“Yes!” My shoulder was on fire where it was wrenched backwards, and Temar’s thumb and index finger were pressing against the veins in my neck; there were spots dancing in front of my eyes.

“Don’t think of lying to me, Catwin.”

“I’m not! It’s true!”
I could hardly see his face, but it moved slightly; he only looked over my head at Temar, who nodded. Temar accepted my explanation. I would have been surprised, if I’d had the presence of mind for it—but reason seemed to be receding. I hardly felt my knees buckle, but gradually became aware that I was lying on the floor, my breath rasping in my throat. The Duke’s face swam into view, bleached white-and-blue in the faint moonlight.

“Tell her I will tolerate no plots from her,” he said softly. “If I even suspect that the two of you have more of a plan than getting her into his bed, I will kill you both outright, and find out later if it was true.” He smiled. “And she’s
to be discreet,” he warned. “None of Wilhelm’s brats; if anything, have her hold off until she knows she’s carrying her husband’s child. Now, go. I have something to discuss with his Grace.”

I did not move for a moment. The haze was still receding, the impact of his words only
now penetrating into my mind. I was trying to block out the disgust when I felt the boot of his toe at my ribs, and I was flipped onto my stomach.

“I said go,” he said. “Temar, escort Catwin back to the rooms—I’ll not have her running off.”

“I’ll go alone,” I said, pushing myself up and straightening my tunic. I could not even bear to look at Temar. “You don’t know anything if you think I’d leave Miriel now, after everything we’ve been through.”

“Careful, Catwin.” His voice was bored. “You are trying my patience once more. I don’t think you wish to suggest that your loyalties lie anywhere but with me.” I made myself bow, bile rising up in my throat, but I could not make myself speak. I turned and left, and when I got into the hallway, I broke into a run
, trying to draw air back into my lungs with long, sobbing breaths. I was desperate to get away, desperate to get back to Miriel before reality broke in.