Twilight of a Queen (47 page)

Meg smiled until she caught sight of her own reflection in the looking glass mounted on the wall. When had the set of her mouth turned that hard, almost cruel? She reached up to touch her hair. It seemed so much darker in the dim lighting of this room, illuminated only by candles. Her face looked thinner, her cheekbones more pronounced, her skin so pale. She was starting to resemble her mother to an alarming degree.

Not that it mattered what she looked like anymore, Meg told herself. The queen’s patience was wearing thin. The vision in her crystal must be fulfilled very soon. Meg approached her guard and demanded he fetch her some more water from the well.

He should have found a servant to do it, but Meg insisted her need was urgent.

“You can wait until someone else can be summoned. The queen’s elixir will be ruined and I shall have to begin all over again. If you want to explain to Her Majesty how that happened—”

The guard clearly didn’t. He raced off to fill her request. Meg knew she did not have much time. She bent down and felt beneath the bench, where she had hidden her witch blade.

She untwisted the hilt and carefully filled the hollow with some of the liquid from her cauldron. Cassandra Lascelles had preferred to employ a poison that was slow-acting, allowing her victim to suffer in agony for several days.

This poison was far more merciful than her mother’s had ever been, Meg comforted herself. Death would be swift and sure. For a moment, Meg quailed from her own thoughts. Could she really go through with this?

“Of course you can, Megaera.”
Her mother’s voice whispered through her mind.
“This is your destiny. You were born for this.”

She wrapped up the witch blade carefully and slipped it back into its place of concealment. She would have to see that the rest of the poison was disposed of and the cauldron well-scrubbed. Meg had no desire to see any innocent person inadvertently come to harm.

She glanced down and noticed that her palms were sweating. Meg wiped them in the folds of her apron. She had much to do before tomorrow.

Tomorrow … that was the day she had decided upon when she must be prepared to meet her fate.

Meg emerged from the older part of the castle an hour later, her lumbering guard trailing after her. Her thoughts far away, she collided with a tall dark-haired man.

Meg reared back, mumbling her apologies. “I am so sorry,” she began, but her voice trailed off when she realized she was looking into the handsome face of the duc de Guise.

As she sank into a nervous curtsy, the powerful nobleman merely looked amused. “The fault was entirely mine, mademoiselle.”

Meg sought for some response, but what else could one say when confronted by a dead man? She had read the king’s murderous intent too clearly the day she had first arrived at the castle.

Meg realized she was staring, holding the duke’s gaze far too long. Looking a trifle discomfited by her, His Grace strode past.

Meg was tempted to rush after him, try to warn the man, but she knew he would never heed the word of some insignificant young girl.

Perhaps she could find some other way to put the duke on his guard. But she had enough worries of her own. There was one more thing she needed to do before tomorrow. She had to see Xavier.

XAVIER SAT UP ON HIS PALLET, BRACING HIS BACK AGAINST THE
wall. The sips of Meg’s potion had helped to restore some of his strength, but he almost thought he had been better off when he was half-delirious.

He had nothing to do but watch the progress of the spider weaving a cobweb in the corner of his cell while he stewed over his own helplessness and worried what might be happening to Jane and Meg.

He had managed to chip a small piece of mortar out of the wall. The next time his silent guard entered, Xavier had determined to bounce the chunk off the man’s head if he refused to tell Xavier anything.

The rock was too small to do any harm, but at least it would allow Xavier to vent some of his frustration, even if the guard retaliated and beat him senseless.

Xavier tensed, his fingers curling around the shard of stone when he heard the key grate in the lock. But rather than the dour lump that was his guard, it was Meg who entered the cell.

The rock fell unnoticed from his hand as Xavier stared up at her. Meg returned his regard with equal gravity as the cell door was shut behind her.

They studied each other for a long moment, then Meg said in her usual blunt fashion, “You look worse than you did after the day you washed up on the island.”

Xavier laughed. “Thank you. You look—” But he was hard-pressed to say exactly how Meg looked. He understood why Jane was so worried about the girl. In the dim light of his cell, Meg appeared almost wraithlike, as though she were in danger of disappearing right before his eyes.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Her lips drew back in a taut smile. “That’s a strange question coming from you.”

He flushed. “Meg, I don’t know what I can say to convince you, but I do care about you. I never meant to betray—”

“I know that. I only meant it was strange you should be worrying about me. You should be more concerned for yourself.”

“Unfortunately, that has been my first concern for far too many years.”

She ventured closer, entwining her fingers together. “It doesn’t sound as though that is how you behaved in Paris. I know about your scheme to protect me from the Dark Queen.”

“Pretty stupid, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” Her lips curved in a smile that was more like Meg, wistful with just a hint of mischief in it. “But I do thank you for trying.”

“It might have worked, if your potion wasn’t so blasted
good. It restored her strength.” Xavier shook his head ruefully. “I had no idea the woman was so powerful. Those eyes of hers … the sheer force of them, she can strip you clean.”

“The Dark Queen is dangerous. She always will be until the day … she dies.” Something about the way Meg pronounced those last two words, the glazed look that came into her eyes, rendered Xavier uneasy.

The girl appeared to give herself a brisk shake. “The guard will not allow me much more time, so please listen to me.”

She glanced over her shoulder as though fearful of being heard. She came even closer, hunkering down beside Xavier and lowering her voice.

“I have been racking my brain for a way for you and Jane to escape. I am going to slip Jane another potion I have brewed. When she drops it in the corridor, it will break and issue a mist that will render the guard temporarily unconscious. Then Jane can get the key, but you and Jane must take great care to keep your faces covered and not breathe any of the mist.

“There is bound to be a great deal of confusion tomorrow. Hopefully that will afford you and Jane the opportunity to steal away from the castle. It is not a great plan, but it is the best I can come up with.”

Xavier frowned. “Why will there be confusion tomorrow? And why does this plan include only me and Jane? What about you?”

She ducked her head, not answering him. Then she said in a small voice, “Because I don’t think I will be able to go anywhere after—”

“After what? What do you think is going to happen? What are you planning to do?”

He managed to get her to look up at him. He studied the expression on her face, a mixture of despair and resolve. His breath caught as he suddenly understood what Meg had in mind because it was the same sort of dark temptation he would have felt himself.

“Meg, you can’t.”

Her lower lip trembled. “I have to. The Dark Queen will always be a threat to anyone I care about. She will hurt anyone that she has to, all to get at the secrets in my head.

“Do you realize what I might tell her if she held an ax over your head or Jane’s? Or anyone I love. What wouldn’t I say to stop her, what dark knowledge wouldn’t I share, that never should be shared?”

The torment in Meg’s young eyes was enough to break his heart.

“She’s an old woman, Meg. She cannot last that much longer.”

“Long enough to hurt you or Jane if I don’t give her what she wants. I have known for a long time it would come to this. I have seen myself destroying the Dark Queen over and over again in my crystal.”

“Forgot that damned crystal, Meg. You have a choice.”

“No, I don’t.”

“But if you are caught—”

“I will be. I won’t make any attempt to conceal my crime. Dark deeds must be answered for. That is something my mother or the queen have never understood.”

“You will be tried, executed.”

“I know.” She regarded him sadly. “And then the
Book of Shadows
will die with me.”

“Meg, this is not the answer—” he began desperately as he heard the guard returning. But from the look in her eyes, he could see that Meg had already slipped away from him.

She brushed a kiss against his cheek. “Good-bye, Xavier.”

T
HE HOUR WAS YET SO EARLY THAT THE SUN HAD NOT
arisen. A chilling rain battered the windows of the council chamber where the duc de Guise had gathered with some of the other council members for an early morning meeting with the king.

He shivered, and drawing a light cloak about his shoulders, he moved nearer the fire. But the bleakness of the day didn’t bother him, his own prospects were shining so bright.

Word had reached him that the armada had failed. He could no longer rely on Spain for an ally, but that suited him well. He had never cared for being Philip’s pensioner. After all, he was the head of the noblest house in all of France, and now he was king in everything but name.

“Your Grace?”

The duke glanced around. One of the king’s new secretaries—the duke had not troubled himself to remember the man’s name—bowed to him. He was not a very prepossessing fellow. In fact, he appeared exceedingly pale and nervous about even addressing the duc de Guise.

“The king would—would like a word with you in his private chambers before the council meeting.”

The duke arched his brows in haughty surprise. But he supposed that he could be magnanimous. Everyone knew who was the master here now.

Excusing himself to the rest of the council, he followed the young secretary, leaving his own escort behind. No one was permitted to be accompanied by retainers into the king’s private chambers.

De Guise had been warned many times against attending the king in private. Someone had slipped a note in his napkin at supper last evening, telling him his life was in danger. He did not know why he should think of her now but he recalled the strange young girl he had encountered in the corridor who had stared at him so intently. His footsteps faltered for a moment but he had never been a coward like the king of France. He dismissed the warning from his mind, as he had done all the others.

Besides, the king would not dare to harm him now.

De Guise trailed the secretary down a narrow corridor that led to the king’s private chamber. The corridor was lined with guards who respectfully touched the brim of their black velvet caps as the duke passed.

The secretary had already disappeared. He heard the slam as the door to the corrider was shut. He became aware of the guards leaving their posts, falling into position behind him.

Reaching out, the duke parted the curtain that led to the next room. He saw eight more guards awaiting him, their daggers drawn.

He hesitated in disbelief at the trap he saw closing around him. He reached for his sword, but it was entangled in his cloak. The first man rushed him and the duke swung, punching him in the face. He managed to fell two more before he felt the blade pierce his side.

He cried out, but leveled another of his assailants to the ground. But they fell upon him, the blades stabbing him again and again.

He reeled from the shock of the assault as much as the pain. He forced his way down the corridor, although he nearly slipped on his blood. He managed to make it all the way to the king’s bedchamber, reaching the end of the king’s bed, before the last blade was driven through his shoulders.

He sagged to his knees, realizing he was going to die. His lips were numb as he tried to form the words of a prayer. “My God. Misericord.”

The duke shuddered and lay still. Only then did Henry of France creep out from his hiding place. He scarce dared release his breath as he came forward.

Half-dazed himself by what he had done, the king stared down at his fallen enemy and murmured, “I never realized he was so tall.”