The White Shadow

19. One of those Ladies

"Firmin!"

He jumped at the whisper. Firmin ooked to his right. It was Roxanne.

"How may I be of service, my lady?"

She glanced around the hallway, as if she were being watched stealing. "Could we talk in private?"

He raised his eyebrows, looking left to the empty alcove, to the door across, and then the stairway on the opposite end. "Well, this seems secluded enough, don't you think?"

"I was wondering if you could do me a favor," she said, looking him up and down, her expression one of amazement. "You seem pretty well, considering you've been—"

"Roxanne," he said, pulling her eyes to his. "The favor?"

Her lips made a thin straight line. "Yes. I've been beseeching the duke, for a position in the council. Anywhere really with some power."

"A position, Roxanne?" Firmin asked. "You want to stay?" Why wasn't he so very surprised?

"Yes," she nodded. "Firmin, things need to be done. And if you can't do it all by yourself—which I completely understand—I want to help."

Firmin sighed. He dreaded the next words so . . .

"Firmin, this shadow must be taken care of. And so I have been asking the duke. But he—he—"

"He won't have it," said Firmin. "Roxanne, you must let this go. It is not your fight."

"But I think he would allow it," said Roxanne, seeming truly uncomfortable. "Just for a price. You haven't seen the way he's looked at me, the words he's spoken."

Firmin shifted. He had.

"I know what he wants from me," Roxanne whispered. Fidgeting with her fingers and avoiding his gaze.

"Roxanne," said Firmin. "I myself agree that you shouldn't concern yourself with these matters." He would not have her fight for something, so hard, when he was trying to prevent just that.

"No, Firmin, you don't realize," she said, looking into his eyes. She stood at a height no smaller than he. "I will have this position. No matter the cost. But I was wondering if perhaps—since you have been chosen by the duke—if you could ask on my behalf. Spare me from—"

Firmin shook his head. "Roxanne—"

"Please, Firmin. I can take it, the responsibilities."

"Roxanne—"

"I can help."

"I don't want it, Roxanne! I don't want your help."

"But—"

"Best accept it, Roxanne. Just go home. I do not want you to have to endure the unnecessary struggles here. Trust me when I say, this is not your fight."

Firmin gave her one last glare before he turned and left the corridor.

---------------------

"If we cover our bodies with black powder," said Carson, "there will be no way she'll ever get to us."

Tris just stood there. Some might view him an oblivious dog, always following orders without question. But Carson thought him a faithful soldier. Trustworthy. Carson enjoyed him merely for company, someone to ramble all his thoughts to.

"So, you're still clinging to that idea?" Tris seemed unsure. "But the duke—"

"The duke was just relieved that Firmin found him a way out," Carson said, curling his fingers into a fist. "But that is why I am here to plan. To keep things in control. By this I mean not the duke, but the situation."