Page 47 of Wolf's Prize

“I am at your disposal.” Renaud clasped his hands in his lap and relaxed his shoulders. He would not let this ambitious git rile him. “What is so urgent you had need to travel all this way to see me?”

“We hope nothing.”

We?

“You have spent quite some time here in Langeais of late, Votre Excellence. Why is that?”

Renaud studied Faucher—the hint of a smug smile on his lips, the arrogant tilt of his chin. He thought himself so cunning, did this young eveque, daring to question him, his superior. As soon as Renaud made Cardinal, he would reassign this impudent upstart to some far-flung county and keep him there indefinitely. There, anyone of importance would soon forget about him.

“I go where I am needed, and that is not for you to question. Your appointment as eveque at such a young age is an achievement,” if one considered benefiting from nepotism an achievement, “but you lack experience.”

Faucher’s gaze turned flinty. “I am not the only one concerned with your long absence from Tours.” Faucher cocked his head. “Is there some trouble brewing here, some threat to the church?”

Renaud snorted. “The Comte de Anjou has always been a threat to the church. It behooves us to keep watch over him from time to time, do you not think?”

“Hmm.”

“You have not met ourbelovedcomte, have you, Faucher?” Renaud smirked. Perhaps he should take the eveque to the keep. Show him the man who used fear to keep his county in line. Put him at the mercy of Comte Lothair. “He is a rather unpleasant man who I am not entirely certain has all his wits about him. Why only the other day, he drove his sword through the throat of the capitaine of the keep guard. I believe the capitaine had lost something belonging to the comte. Deserving of a demotion, yes. But death? I think not.”

“What about the disappearance of his adviser? D’Louncrais?”

Renaud’s eyes narrowed on Faucher. For someone only just arrived in Langeais, he was remarkably well informed.

“Mm, yes, it is a little concerning. D’Louncrais had a lot of influence over the comte. He tempered many of his decisions. Given the circumstances, I may need to stay in Langeais a little longer yet. Perhaps…” He tapped his chin. “Perhaps there is an opportunity here. An opening, if you will, to become part of the comte’s council.”

Faucher’s eyes lit up. Renaud almost chuckled. Too easy to read, the young eveque had much to learn. Faucher’s ambitions were irrelevant. Soon Renaud’s plans would come to fruition and the problem of Comte Lothair resolved. And he would be in a position to rid himself of an annoyance—Faucher.

“Perhaps I should meet Comte Lothair.”

Renaud’s lips curled, unable to contain his mirth. “If—and the chances are slim—youwereto secure an audience with Comte Lothair,” Renaud’s smile turned to a sneer, “you would soon discover you are no match for him. Very few are. Leave Lothair to me. I am sure Amonier Touissant could use your assistance in administering to his flock.”

Faucher’s face reddened, and he scowled. He thrust his hands into his robes and produced a piece of parchment, unfolding it.

“If you have such a connection with the comte, then perhaps you know of his interest in this,Votre Excellence?”

Renaud snatched up the parchment. A drawing of a howling wolf’s head, and four lines of strange script, indecipherable, but complete. There was only one place, indeed one person, he could have received such information from.

Faucher leaned back in his chair with exaggerated casualness and crossed his arms over his chest.

Renaud dismissed the parchment with a sniff. “What is this? A family crest? A wolf is a common motif in these parts.”

“And the writing?”

“Nothing more than the scratchings of an illiterate peasant.”

Faucher’s eyes gleamed. “I assure you, Votre Excellence, it is not. It is witchcraft.”

Renaud snorted. “Witchcraft?”

“Indeed. It is understandable you do not recognize it. You have not studied the darker arts as I have.”

Renaud looked down his nose at Faucher. “This obsession you have with these matters is clouding your judgment. It is time for you to put such…unseemly and un-godlike pursuits behind you. You could have a great future in the church. This”—Renaud waved about the parchment—“will not aid you. I suggest you take some time in prayer and quiet reflection. Consider how you wish to proceed.” Renaud held up the parchment. “I will see this nonsense destroyed. Dismissed.”

Renaud waited until Faucher, jaw clenched tight and his back rigid, stalked from the sacristy before he turned his attention to the parchment. He stared at the four lines of script. His informant had not been idle after their last confrontation. Clever move, seeking out Eveque Faucher. Word of his fervor in routing out witchcraft had reached even this backwater village. Renaud had worked too hard and invested too much in his plans to have them commandeered. Not by Faucher. He would take whatever steps necessary to keep him far away from the werewolves of Langeais.

Chapter Twenty-Two

After another two days of training, and Aimon resolutely keeping his promise not to touch her again, Kathryn flounced into the keep and stomped up the stairs. Damn that man. She would be an old maid before he ever kissed her again. Not a look, or a touch on the arm, barely a smile for her. And no matter how hard she tried to maneuver herself into his space, into his arms, he always managed to slip away and keep his distance.

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