By the time I reached the last door on the left, I was dripping sweat; it was hot as Hades from the rising heat of the hearth downstairs and God only knew how many illegal charcoal braziers in the rooms. The entire building was a firetrap; it explained why cats converged here, though I couldn’t possibly imagine why anyone would keep so many indoors, except to keep the rats out.
Raking a hand through my damp hair, I put my ear to the door. I heard nothing within. I tried the latch. I was starting to turn it when the door flung open-“I’ve been waiting for hours!”-and the earl grabbed hold of me, trying to embrace me.
I threw him aside. Courtenay’s eyes snapped wide. Slamming the door shut, he whirled to me. His chemise was unlaced, revealing a slim white chest; his features were twisted with rage and flushed with what I assumed was a liberal intake of wine. He started to come at me, his teeth bared, then stopped short when he saw my drawn poniard.
His eyes narrowed. “Who in bloody hell are you?”
Now that I was face-to-face with the earl of Devon, the man who I knew was plotting against the queen, and who I believed had tried to poison me and instead taken Peregrine’s life, my desire for vengeance knotted like barbed iron about my heart. I took a moment to gauge him. He exuded the well-fed gloss of a noble, though I noted that without the extravagant padding of his finery, the effects of years of confinement in the Tower showed. Under his loose chemise and breeches, he was slender as an adolescent, his long-limbed body seemingly devoid of discernible musculature; despite his arrogant carriage, if it came down to a fight I had a feeling he’d have less physical strength than I.
“So you do recognize me,” I said through my teeth.
He smiled coldly. “You’re that no-name mongrel Renard has sent sniffing after me. You’ve a good nose, too, to have found me here. Pity you shan’t be telling him about it.”
“Oh? Are you going to try to kill me again?”
He let out a bray of laughter-until I stepped toward him and he saw the intent in my eyes. He went still as I said, “That surprise you left for me in my rooms killed my squire instead. He was just a lad. I
He blanched, glancing downward to the blade I aimed at him. “I assure you,” he said slowly, “I’ve no idea what you are talking about.”
In the silent wake of his words, I searched his eyes. Unless he was the best actor I’d come across, he seemed genuinely baffled by my accusation. My rage faltered. Had I made a mistake? Was he telling me the truth?
“Let me refresh your memory. You ordered me silenced the other night because I saw you meeting with the princess. You sent your manservant after me.” He drew in a sharp breath as I stepped closer to him. The door was at his back; in order to get out he’d have to turn around to open it. “But he failed to catch me that night,” I continued, “so you had him follow me. I saw him on the bridge; he didn’t make himself inconspicuous. Though when he realized I’d seen him, he disappeared. Then I returned to the palace to find your note. Are you remembering any of this now? Because if you aren’t, I suggest you start. Your life depends on it.”
“Who are you to threaten me, you knave!” To my disconcertion, he reacted as any noble confronted by an inferior would. Heedless of my knife, he took a furious step at me, though he made the mistake of glancing at his discarded doublet on the bed. If he had a weapon, it was there. He’d have to come through me to get it. I gave him time to consider his options, even as I began to consider the possibility that his display of outrage was sincere. Not only would a guilty man have shown more caution, there was nothing in his demeanor to suggest any surprise that I was still alive.
If it had not been Courtenay, who had tried to poison me?
I shook my contemplations aside, lowering my blade. Courtenay’s expression shifted; with a lift of his brow, he pointed to a flagon on the side table. “May I? I’m parched.”
I nodded, watching him move to the table and fill a goblet. He eyed me over its rim. “I am sorry to hear about your … squire, was it?” He took a sip. “But seeing as I had nothing to do with his death and you’re still here, you must have another purpose in mind. Could it be blackmail, perhaps?”
“Now that you mention it,” I said coldly.
“Then you’re wasting your time. Contrary to how it appears, just because you found me in this disreputable establishment doesn’t mean I swive boys.” He gave me a languid smile. “But I know plenty of men at court who do. Shall I give you their names?”
I wasn’t taken in by his flippant manner. “I don’t care who or what you swive. I want answers, and you’re going to give them to me.”
“Oh, my. That almost sounds like a threat.” He downed the contents of his goblet and set it back on the table with the exasperated air of a man obliged to engage in a tedious conversation. “Answers, you say? For whom? Your master, Renard, perhaps?”
“He does have the queen’s ear,” I replied, and before I had time to react, Courtenay flew at me, his hand closed about a long, slim dagger he’d lifted unseen from the side table. He aimed the blade at my stomach; as I swerved to avoid being stabbed, he kicked at my legs, knocking me to my knees. I dropped my poniard. I was trying to retrieve it while avoiding him and getting back on my feet when he leapt on top of me, yanking my head back by my hair. He slid his knife against my throat; I felt its bite abrade my skin.
“I don’t like being accosted by common blackguards like you,” he whispered, and the feral glee in his voice was more unnerving than the sudden warm seep of blood down my neck. “I’ll ask you once, and if I don’t like what I hear, I will slit your throat:
Without hesitation, I whispered, “Elizabeth. She sent me.”
Chapter Twelve
He still had me by the hair, but as I felt his grip ease at the sound of her name, I curbed my impulse to heave him off me and strike back. I had an entire childhood of experience to draw upon, years of being waylaid and thrashed by the Dudley brood. These men of so-called good birth were all the same: They assumed someone like me would always capitulate to their superior force.
I’d let Courtenay go on thinking that, at least for a short while.
“Elizabeth?” he echoed. “Come now, you’ll have to do better than that. Why would our princess entrust her affairs to a grubby little street cur like you?”
I was finding it increasingly difficult to stay still. He’d drunk more than his fair share this evening; I could feel his grip quivering through his blade, and I didn’t want to end up with my throat slashed in this godforsaken brothel because he let his knife slip. I told myself to wait, that the cut he’d inflicted was superficial, a mere nick; the throat always bled a lot. I’d been cut countless times while being shaved. This was no worse. Something ferocious was building inside me, though. He represented everything I’d come to detest-a fop who believed he had the right to bully his way through life with impunity, to treat with contempt anyone he deemed beneath him. If he hadn’t left the poisoned note in my room, it was only because he lacked imagination, for he was perfectly capable of killing me without a second thought.
I’d had enough of men like him.
“That’s the second time you’ve called me a cur. And I happen to like dogs,” I said, and I slammed his rib cage with a backward jab of my elbow while simultaneously heaving up my back to knock him askew. Pivoting on my knees, I grasped him by the arm and wrenched it down, forcing his blade away from me. To my unpleasant surprise, he proved stronger than he looked, though I had caught him unawares. As he grappled with the sudden reversal in our positions, I yanked him to his feet with his arm up behind him, forcing him to release his dagger, which clattered at my feet.
“I can break it,” I said in his ear, and I wrenched his arm higher. He cried out. I kicked his ankles apart, steadying his stance. “Or we can come to an arrangement. Your choice.”
I yanked again. As I did, I pawed at the floor with my foot, dragging my poniard to me. I would have to release him in order to grab it, and I knew the moment I did he’d seize the advantage. Counting to four under my breath, I let him loose and leapt for the poniard, rearing up with it, slashing the air to stave him off. He backed
