Page 80 of Play of Shadows
Beretto leaned over to whisper to me, ‘I quite like how she says it. Do you suppose she fancies me?’
‘Have you yet again forgotten your romantic interests lie elsewhere?’ I asked.
He shrugged. ‘She seems a gentle soul. I’d hate to disappoint her, is all.’
Captain Terine, either not hearing or not caring, continued herintroductions. ‘Rhyleis dé Joilard, a Bardatti, known among her order as Sharptongue.’
That took me aback. How was it this ducal guardswoman knew more about the Troubadour than I did? Then I realised Rhyleis had probably signed her full name– along with several other grandiose and self-bestowed titles– at the bottom of the ‘love song’ we’d sent to Duke Monsegino.
Let’s hope my clever plan really is clever and not just Corbier’s unhelpful influence.
‘And finally,’ Captain Terine began, and I wondered if the gruff edge in her words revealed an eagerness to get the introductions over with so she could get on with my beheading, ‘the Veristor Dam—’
She was cut off by a new voice, a light, airy one whose dulcet tones did nothing to hide the cruelty beneath, like the whisper of a courtesan breathing seductions in your ear even as she slides the blade ever so gently between your ribs.
‘The Veristor Damelas Chademantaigne,’ the woman waiting for us in the throne room announced, my name and title dancing on her tongue. ‘I hope no one present will take offence, but I know him by a different sobriquet, a token of the special affection in which I hold him close to my heart.’
Captain Terine and the guards stepped aside, making an armoured tunnel through which I could now see our hostess as she smiled at me with more ardour and need than any lover ever had.
‘Hello, my rabbit,’ said her Ladyship Ferica di Traizo.
An entire year I’d spent trying to hide from her in both my waking life and my nightmares. Now it appeared that my cunning plan to intimidate the duke had just delivered me, Beretto and Rhyleis into the waiting arms of the Vixen of Jereste.
Chapter 39
The Lover Scorned
Rabbit. Rabbit. Rabbit.The word gnawed at me, echoing in my mind until that casual, almost affectionate jibe hardened into a dread realisation:She’s right. I am a rabbit.My breath was coming in ragged gasps, my heart already racing as my body demanded I flee as fast and as far as my legs could carry me.
So what happened to showing the world that the blood of two Greatcoats runs in the veins of Damelas Chademantaigne?
I couldn’t tell if this scornful new voice in my head was Corbier or the inevitable manifestation of my own shame. Either way, it wasn’t helping.
I never asked to be this way, you arsehole, I replied.It’s not a choice I made.
Isn’t it? I wonder, is it the prospect of your flesh being parted by your enemy’s blade that so frightens you? Or might it be the sight ofherblood dripping from the tip of your own sword?
Shut up!I raged silently.You don’t know anything about me– you’re long dead, and frankly, the world was better off without you.
The sneer that came to my lips definitely belonged to someone else.
The dead leave their mark upon the living, DamelasChademantaigne. Where is the influence of your grandmother, the valorous Greatcoat who fought a hundred duels and lost only one?
The question cut me as sharp as the tip of a smallsword across the cheek. Had Virany Chademantaigne been standing here toe-to-toe with the Vixen of Jereste, any shaking in her hands would have been the loosening of her muscles in preparation to strike the first blow.
My grandmother is dead, I replied bitterly.You need lose only one duel for that.
The taunting voice in my skull was unrelenting.Where is your grandfather, then, who could bluff his way past half the devils in Hells and trick the others into taking his side?
Were Paedar here, the trembling of his lips would have been the first twitch of a smile, masking the schemes he’d be planning, playing upon his opponent’s vanities and insecurities to subtly alter the game board, one piece at a time, until every move favoured him.
He’s old now, and alone. He sits at home waiting for death to reunite him with my grandmother.
But Corbier’s voice– and itwasCorbier’s, I was sure of it now– had all the sympathy and compassion of a raven nibbling on a corpse’s eyeball as he whispered,A man who carries neither his grandmother’s spirit nor his grandfather’s heart ought not be so quick to refuse the gift of my counsel, for I promise you, Damelas, blood will be spilled upon this floor tonight.
‘Draw me a circle upon this floor,’ the Vixen commanded. ‘And someone find my rabbit a rapier suited to his height. Nothing too heavy, mind—’
‘Lady di Traizo—’ Captain Terine began.
