Courting Darkness (Courting Darkness Duology, #1)
Robin Lafevers
To fierce, determined girls everywhere.
Especially those still discovering how to be fierce.
You are the true heroes.
Dramatis Personae
From the Convent of Saint Mortain, patron saint of death
Sybella d’Albret, Death’s daughter, lady in waiting to the duchess of Brittany Ismae Rienne, Death’s daughter, lady in waiting to the duchess of Brittany Annith, handmaiden to Death
Lady Margot, Death’s daughter, lady in waiting to Louise de Savoy, countess of Angoulême Lady Genevieve, Death’s daughter, lady in waiting to Louise de Savoy, countess of Angoulême
The Breton Court
Anne, duchess of Brittany, countess of Nantes, Montfort, and Richmont Gavriel Duval, a Breton noble, half brother to the duchess Isabeau, Anne’s sister (deceased)
Duke Francis II, Anne’s father (deceased)
The Privy Council
Benebic de Waroch, “Beast,” knight of the realm, captain of the queen’s guard Jean de Chalons, prince of Orange
Captain Dunois, captain of the Breton army Phillipe Montauban, chancellor of Brittany Jean de Rieux, former marshal of Brittany Bishop of Rennes
Father Effram
The d’Albret Family
Alain d’Albret, lord of Albret, viscount of Tartas, 2nd count of Graves (deceased) Sybella d’Albret, Death’s daughter, lady in waiting to the duchess of Brittany Pierre d’Albret, second son of Alain d’Albret, viscount of Périgord and Limoges Julian d’Albret, third son of Alain d’Albret (deceased) Charlotte, daughter of Alain d’Albret
Louise, youngest daughter of Alain d’Albret Tephanie Blaine, lady in waiting to Sybella
Breton Nobility
Viscount Maurice Crunard, former chancellor of Brittany Anton Crunard, last surviving son of the former Jean de Rohan, viscount of Rohan, lord of Léon and count of Porho?t, uncle to the duchess
Followers of Saint Arduinna
Aeva, Arduinnite, lady in waiting to the duchess of Brittany Tola, Arduinnite, lady in waiting to the duchess of Brittany
Breton Men-at-Arms
Sir Lannion, second in command of the queen’s guard Yannic, squire to Benebic de Waroch
Lazare, charbonnerie, member of the queen’s guard Graelon, charbonnerie
The French Court and Nobility
Charles VIII, king of France
Anne de Beaujeu, sister to the king, regent of France Philip de Beaujeu, duke of Burgundy, husband to Anne Maximilian of Austria, the Holy Roman emperor Princess Marguerite, former dauphine of France, daughter of Maximilian of Austria Louis, Duke of Orléans
Simon de Fremin, a lawyer
Seguin de Cassel, general in the king’s army
The Cognac Court
Count Charles Angoulême
Louise de Savoy, countess of Angoulême Jeanne de Polignac, mistress to Count Angoulême, lady in waiting to Louise
In France
Jasper, a mercenary
Valine, a mercenary
Andry, a mercenary
Tassin, a mercenary
Richard of Shrewsbury, claimant to the throne of England
The Nine
Mortain, god of death
Dea Matrona, mother goddess
Arduinna, goddess of love’s sharp bite, daughter of Matrona, twin sister of Amourna Amourna, goddess of love’s first blush, daughter of Matrona, twin sister of Arduinna Brigantia, goddess of knowledge and wisdom Camulos, god of battle and war
Mer, goddess of the sea
Salonius, god of mistakes
Cissonius, god of travel and crossroads
?Prologue
Sybella
Rennes, Brittany
November 1489
s I stand on the battlements of the besieged city, looking out at the disarray before me, it is clear the god of Death has taken to the field. While this could be said of any battle—death and war are old friends, after all—today He rides a black horse, a pale-haired rider hunkered down in front of Him.
Annith. The most skilled of all of Death’s handmaidens and the sister of my heart.
She has done her part to avert this war—taken her shot using the last of the arrows forged by the gods, which flew as straight and true as if guided by their own hand. But now the French have seen her. Understand that it was she who shot at their king. And even though he is unharmed—harming him was never the intent—they are on her like jackals on a rotting carcass.
“Reload!” calls out Aeva, one of the dozen followers of Saint Arduinna who stand beside me along the ramparts.
Death and Annith ride hard for the gate, Mortain covering her with His body—a body from which four arrows protrude—protecting her life with His own. No, not His own, for He is the god of Death, I remind myself. But Father Effram’s warning has taken root in my heart.
“My lord, you do know what will happen if you choose to involve yourself in mortal affairs, do you not?”
The French archers release a second volley of arrows. As one, the Arduinnites and I return fire. But our arrows are too late. Mortain is hit yet again, taking two more to His side. Annith twists in the saddle, trying to hold onto Him.
It does not work, and they plummet to the ground. Annith begins crawling toward Mortain under yet another shower of French arrows. By Fate or chance, one of them buries itself in Death’s chest, and I feel the pain of it as if it comes from my own. Ice-cold fingers of dread trail down my back before wrapping themselves around my heart.
As a lone hound brays in the distance, I shove away from the battlements and race down the stairway to the gate. More hounds join the first, raising their voices in an unholy lamentation. For a moment, the world hangs suspended, like a drop of sap oozing from a tree, and in that moment I know. The god of Death—my father—is gone. He has passed from this world.
By the time I reach the gate, the French have fallen back, as if even they sense the magnitude of this moment. Nuns from the convent of Saint Brigantia swarm toward the fallen Mortain as Annith throws herself on his body, weeping. As much as I am hurting, she will be even more so.
Before I can reach them, a laugh rings out—an incongruous, joyful sound in the solemn stillness.
Puzzled, Death reaches for his chest, his hand coming away red with blood. Although I am half a bowshot away, I hear him say, “I am alive.”
It feels as if the earth I am standing on gives a dizzying spin.
He is alive. But even as far away as I am, I can see that he is no longer Death.
A great chasm opens inside me, a dark yawning maw that threatens to swallow me whole. If Death no longer walks amongst us, then what purpose am I to serve? What use will there be for my dark talents and skills?
I fear the answer was writ long ago, when I was born into the family that raised me. The family that nearly killed me and drove my mother into Death’s arms.
And that answer terrifies me far more than death ever has.
?Chapter 1
Genevieve
Cognac, France
November 1489