The Bandit King by Lilith Saintcrow Page A

tradesman newly noble hungering for an aristocratic bride, a Damarsene family without a connexion to the Pruzians… for any number of reasons. To secure the alliance, and end the tribute payments. Then bastard scions of the Tirecian-Trimestin royal line began dying. Once was chance, twice was coincidence, thrice and fourth conspiracy—and always, I was a step too late. There are not many who can anticipate me, or could use Court influence to track my comings and goings more closely than was wonted.”
    “This explains nothing.” But my father had folded his arms, and his wintry gaze had fastened on me at last. It was like being nine again, and about to receive the lashing.
    Enough. Tell them what you can, what they will believe.
“Twas necessary for me to enter the conspiracy to flush it out. It took time, and while that time ran, Vianne was kept at Court under close watch.
My
watch. I followed the conspiracy to its root, and that root was the heart of the royal House itself.”
    “D’Orlaans.” My father nodded once, sharply. “You were playing the courser to flush the hare, and this is part of it?”
    I can still salvage this.
My heart gave a thin singing leap, was throttled back.
If I can make them believe, tis halfway to making Vianne believe as well.
“Tis. The King was dying when I arrived. I told Vianne twas poison, to ease her mind—what was I to do, describe the blood and bowel-loosening? I thought twas a gentler thing for her to think on, and well she needed it.” It sounded so reasonable.
    It
had
been so reasonable, so natural.
You should have let me have her, Henri. Safely wedded, I would have been your Hand until my death.
    And the final twist of the knife home, when he had winked broadly over my
d’mselle
’s head and said,
He must favor you, child.
Telling her a secret I had not confided, except in my one request, the only boon I begged after years of service. As a noblewoman of the sword on both sides of her family, she would have to seek Henri’s blessing to wed. If he had given me permission, I would have courted her more openly.
    My mother sighed, a sound of innocent relief more painful to me than her tears. “Then you can explain before the Council, and this will all be over.”
    “Not so quick, my dove.” My father had not taken his gaze from my features, seeking to read the stamp of truth or falsehood. “There must be a deeper reason for him to be chained here. If anything,
she
trusts our son to a fault. Something else has happened, and it centers on this di Cinfiliet. What of him?”
    If I could but catch him with a gallery and a sword, we would see.
But it was enough to sow the seed of suspicion in my father’s mind. “Probably already gone, that canny beast. Did Jierre arrive with my letter?”
    “He did. Hard on his heels came our liege, and she took the missive from him. I was not allowed so much as a glance.” My father’s face twisted sourly.
    How it must gall you, that a woman does not bend when you frown. She has shown herself not so amenable to your ideas.
    But
damn
it. Had my father been able to detain di Cinfiliet, I might have been able to salvage somewhat more of this. As it stood… “He has reasons to make her doubt me.” I let my tone darken, staring at the cuffs about my wrists as if they held the solution to every riddle.
    I had not written aught incriminatory. Merely for my father to detain di Cinfiliet until I could question him, as I suspected.
What
I suspected I left unsaid, and my father would read it very differently than my
d’mselle
.
    “Tristan.” My mother searched my face. “There is summat more. There
has
to be. Vianne looks grave, and I would swear she has aged since you left for the Temple. She—”
    “She is serious, as befits a liege.” My father made a restless movement, reminding my mother of the guard just out of sight. It must be someone
Père
would at least suspect no mischief of, since he spoke so freely. But whom? “The charge is