Paradise Red by K.M. Grant

Author:K.M. Grant
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Young Adult, France, Romance, Fantasy, Cultural, Historical Fiction
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 2010-03-09T00:00:00+00:00

12

The Attempt

It comes, naturally, when he least expects it. After dinner one evening, long after the bottom door is normally shut for the night, one of the perfecti hurries out of the keep to fetch water and, for convenience sake, does not slam the door behind him. Raimon, playing with his dagger, stares for some time before he jolts. His perfectus shadow is nowhere to be seen. Aimery is nearby, though. Raimon bites his lip but does not stop. Aimery be damned. He jams his dagger into his belt. Here is his opportunity and he is not going to waste it.

Except before he gets anywhere near the door, he hears a sharp, familiar tone of complaint and a high voice behind the postern gate demanding entrance so loudly and persistently that all the sleeping babies wake and begin to wail, which sets the cows mooing, the cocks crowing, and three small dogs barking their heads off.

And there is Laila, swinging past the sentries, tossing her curls, flashing scarlet lips, and shouting for Aimery. Raimon stalls, holding his breath. The door is wide open, the perfectus is nonplussed. “Go, go,” his brain tells him. Yet he cannot. If Laila is here, Yolanda could be with her. He is paralyzed, and by the time he realizes Laila is alone, the keep door has slammed and the opportunity is lost. Sickened, he watches how she throws off the hood of her cloak and, just by that gesture, alarms every wife and banishes drowsiness from every husband’s eyes. Sir Roger’s company welcome her, however, recalling with pleasure her mimes and tricks. At last there will be amusement in this dreary hole. Last stands are not nearly as exotic as they sound. Only Raimon turns his back.

Aimery is half embarrassed, half triumphant. To be pursued by a lady, even if it is Laila—perhaps especially if it is Laila—marks him out rather enviably. With only momentary irresolution, he moves to greet her. “Well I never,” he says, waving to de Perella that Laila belongs to him. “You must be keen. That’s quite a climb in the dark.”

She shakes the pebbles from her unsuitable shoes. “A girl can do anything if she’s determined enough.” She brushes against him deliberately.

“Ah, I think you’re flattering me,” he says, herding her over to where he has staked his claim. Ignoring Raimon completely, she allows herself to be commandeered and seems more than contented when their two shadows slowly settle into one.

The courtyard stills for sleep again, with only one baby still persistently crying. Raimon huddles by the keep door, kicking himself primarily, then comforting himself that at least Aimery will, in future, be too distracted to follow him about. He wonders why Laila has come now when she would not come before, then dismisses this as of no consequence. Laila just does exactly as she pleases. Trying to discover a motive is as pointless as trying to trap mercury.

Just before dawn, he becomes aware of a woman threading her way quickly over the sleeping bodies.

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