Page 3 of Disillusioned
Before anyone could stop him he made to rise, only to fold at the middle in an almost comical bow. Then, his knees buckled and his torso followed.
The man hit the floor face first with a muffledcrunch.
Armand made a strangled noise through his smile. The coachman remained face down and did not get back up.
“Is he…” The words died on Lilac’s lips.
Kemble was already shifting, patting her hands dry upon her apron before placing a knuckle against the side of the man’s neck. The shake of her head was nearly imperceptible.
“Armand’s driver,” her father muttered. Then his voice rang out. “Remove him.”
“It’ll take a bit to fetch the linen and stretcher, sir.”
“You have hands and feet, don’t you?” Henri left his station at the front of the desk and moved to stand beside her. “Go. Take him out the courtyard door, quickly now, while everyone is at the chapel.”
Two guards did as Henri said, hoisting the corpse by its blue arms and feet and taking him out the courtyard door on the southern wall.
“What could it have been?” asked Gondard.
“People drop all the time,” said Henri gruffly. “Armand will make everything clear once he snaps out of this shock he’s in. In the meantime, no one enters or leaves the room until we conclude this session.”
Lilac dared a glance at Armand; he sat nodding, the remaining guard’s hand clamped upon his shoulder. There was no response to her father calling out his inaction, something he would’ve absolutely revolted against—if he were right in the head. Damp spots lined the collar of his white shirt and armpits, and there was a visible sheen on his forehead.
He was not suffering from some normal ailment, some excess of alcohol. No, this man had been spelled. But by friend or foe? It was no secret that Armand was not the same supporter of her as he had been of Henri. Maybe Adelaide had poisoned him after the fact and sent him as a cruel joke. Or were the Fair Folk behind his behavior? Lilac shuddered at the thought of Kestrel; she was already dreading having to face him as night drew near.
Only one way to find out.
“Your Grace,” she said, welcoming him to begin.
John adjusted in his seat, readying his quill.
Armand’s gaze cast to the floor, and he began to mumble under his breath. Kemble turned toward him, brow furrowed in concentration. Lilac cocked an ear but could make out nothing.
Kemble spoke quietly to him, kneeling and shaking her head as he slowly tried to spin in his seat, but the guard behind him grunted warningly.
Lilac waved a hand. “Yes, Armand? He may speak. Let him speak.”
“I think he’s saying he cannot speak with you until he gives you his gift, Your Majesty.”
He’d brought her a gift. Something was certainly wrong. “Very well, then.” She outstretched her arm, crooking her fingers. “Give it here.”
The guard stepped back and released him, but not without a reluctant grimace, his hand sliding to rest at the hilt at his hip. The freedom allowed Armand to twist in his chair, swiping his arm behind him rather frantically. Kemble used her foot to push a long, narrow bag closed by a drawstring to within reach, and the man snatched it, cradling the package to his chest like a doting mother would hold her newborn babe. Then he turned his unnerving smile on Lilac and held it out to her.
She stood from her chair, and Henri’s arm shot out to stop her.
“What if the same madness has infected him, Lilac?”
“That’s what our guards are here for.”And his type of madness isn’t catching.
It was also what the jeweled dagger strapped to her outer thigh was for.
Ignoring the dread gnawing at her insides, she shrugged him off and marched straight toward the man who had fathered her worst nightmare. She stopped an arm’s length away, and as she accepted the bundle, his fingers brushed hers. They were clammy, and cold. As soon as he released the bag to her, he slumped forward. She took two quick steps back, keeping her eye on him as she deposited the bundle upon her desk. It landed with athump.
The duke took deep, shaking breaths, eyes closed, as relief and a mixture of other emotions washed over him.
Lilac smoothed her skirts with one hand and placed the other upon the hilt that rested on her right thigh.
“Why are you here, Armand?”
