I stare down at his face. It has not grown more beautiful since I first found him, festering in the dungeon, and yet it is more dear to me than my own.
His eyes open just then, and he catches me studying him. “What?” His early-morning voice is gruff, like two rocks being rubbed together.
“I was wondering, since I have kissed you three times now, if you might turn into a handsome prince.”
At the sight of his quick, easy grin, I feel my heart dance in my chest.
“Alas, you are still stuck with a toad, my lady.”
“Ah, but it turns out I am quite fond of toads.” I lean down and kiss his nose, surely one of the silliest things I have ever done, but I do not care. “Even toads who sleep the entire day away.” I plant one more kiss upon his face, then force myself from the bed.
I do not even mind that he watches me dress.
When I reach the kitchen, Lazare looks up from the knife he is sharpening, his keen eyes missing nothing, so that I feel almost naked before him.
“Someone is happy this morning,” he smirks.
“Someone is eager to feel the kiss of cold steel before he’s even broken his fast.”
His smile widens, for the fact that I have not already pulled my knife on him only serves to prove him right.
“Don’t you have a cart to fetch or something?” I ask.
He nods toward the window. “It’s here already. Some of us didn’t laze about all morning.”
I look outside and see three other charbonnerie and a cart full of charcoal. Our means to gain access to the city has arrived. “Well then. Let’s get going.”
The strategy that worked so well when we traveled to Rennes serves us equally well here. In no time at all, I have tucked my hair up under a coif and smeared a thin film of coal dust over my face and hands. My altered appearance will render me nearly invisible, for guards pay little attention to lowly peasants and even less attention to the shunned charbonnerie.
But Beast’s huge stature is far too recognizable. This time he is laid in the cart, covered with rough hempen cloth, then buried under a layer of charcoal. Lazare fashions some sort of vent through which he can breathe.
We pass through the city gates and receive nary a second glance, and Lazare steers us directly to a blacksmith he knows, a fellow, he assures us, who will be most happy to give us aid. Even though he is not closely allied with the charbonnerie, he certainly does not bear any love for d’Albret or his occupation of the city.
With the first part of our plan successfully behind us, it is time for me to get cleaned up so I may pay a visit to the convent of Saint Brigantia that sits just across from the palace.
Chapter Forty-Seven
I AM SHOWN IMMEDIATELY TO the abbess’s chamber, where she waits for me at her desk. She is a large woman, nearly as tall as a man, with a high, intelligent brow and heavy-lidded eyes. I am shown in, and she motions for the novitiate to close the door on her way out, then leans back in her chair and studies me.
“What does one of Mortain’s own daughters want from those who serve Brigantia?”
“I do not come on official business, Reverend Mother, but to ask for your aid in rescuing two young girls. They have been taken by Count d’Albret and I fear for their welfare.”
“As well you should,” she mutters.
“In order to get them to safety, I must gain access to the castle. A Brigantian habit would provide a most excellent disguise and allow me to enter the palace without scrutiny.”
“Do you plan to go alone?”
“No, I will have assistance.”
“Then you will need more than one.”
Unable to help myself, I smile at the thought. “No, Reverend Mother. I will be accompanied by two men.”
She raises one eyebrow. “And who are they?”
“One of them is the Beast of Waroch.”
“The same Beast of Waroch who stood so nobly before our own duchess but a few weeks ago?”
“The very one.”
“Then I have something else I would share with you. There is a secret passage that runs from the convent to the palace. It was built by the late duke. After he and his family narrowly avoided capture by the French when they stormed the city in one of the many skirmishes, he had his engineers build a secret escape route out of the palace so his daughters would never come that close to capture again. You can use that to free the girls.”
It appears all the gods are in favor of this venture, and it is all I can do to keep from leaping over the desk and hugging her. “’Tis a great solution to a most vexing problem. Thank you.”
“So it is but a rescue mission?” Her sharp eyes study me.
I hold her gaze. “That is the focus of our foray.”
“Good. Although if there are other opportunities that present themselves, I hope that you will seize them. You will need to be most careful. D’Albret and his troops returned three days ago, he and his forces riding hard from Rennes. Whatever he had hoped to accomplish there did not happen, and he and his men are in a foul humor.”
That is good news, then, for surely that must mean that his saboteurs were not able to help him gain entrance to the city.
“That is why things are so quiet here. The townsfolk have taken to their homes and closed their shops, not wanting to come into contact with d’Albret or his men when this mood is upon them.”
For some reason, my thoughts go to the silversmith who fashioned the key for me. “That is most wise of them.”
She pushes herself to her feet and crosses to the window that overlooks the moat. “There is something else you should know. There are reports, reliable reports, that the French regent and a large fighting force are encamped a mere five leagues upriver.”
So close! “Did they think to take advantage of d’Albret’s absence by invading the city while he was making war on Rennes?”
She shakes her head. “I do not know, for messengers have been flying fast and furious between d’Albret and the French for the last fortnight. Whatever it is, they may be planning it together.”
She turns to face me. “I do not tell you this to dissuade you but so that you will keep your eyes and ears open. If you were to catch wind of what is afoot while you are moving these girls to safety, I am sure the duchess would be most grateful. Now, go fetch your companion, and when you return, I will escort you to the passage myself.”
The tunnel is long and dark, and the oil lantern the abbess gave us casts just enough light so that we do not trip and fall. The walls are of dank stone, dripping with damp from the nearby river and the moat overhead. The darkness swallows up most of the light from the lantern. It feels as if we have stepped into the long, murky throat of some monstrous serpent from the legends of old.
When finally the meager light shows a stone staircase, we quicken our pace and hurry up the stairs. According to the abbess, since the duke was aware that his own chamber might well be the first taken in any hostilities, the door opens into the room the duchess and Isabeau shared as children.
I quietly lift the latch, then slowly pull the door open—only to be met by another wall of wood. No, not a wall, but the back of a huge wooden headboard. The door is set into the wall behind the room’s bed and further hidden from view by the bed curtains. There is just enough space for a person to pass through, although Beast will have to turn himself sideways, and even then it will be a tight fit.
Yannic will wait in the passageway armed with his slingshot and a long dagger, as we do not dare risk having our avenue of escape sealed off by our enemies.
The bedchamber opens onto a small receiving room, and even though I sense no hearts beating in there, I pause. It is as if some invisible barrier holds me back, my mind remembering all that I have endured within these walls, even while my heart sings that it is different now. I am different now. I had been forced to disguise my true nature even from myself—for what hounds would not be terrified by the wolf that stalks among them? And even a baby wolf must be given a chance to grow. That thought allows me to step into the chamber. Beast follows silently on my heels.