Free Assassin's Creed: Unity by Oliver Bowden Page B

of you.”
    “Actually,” I said, opening my purse to reveal the horseshoe inside, “it was the other way around.”
    He frowned. Not the reaction I wanted. “And what then, Élise?” he whispered crossly, his forefinger jabbing the top of the desk for emphasis. “You would have been expelled from the Maison Royale. Your education—delayed. Your induction—delayed. Your ascendance to Grand Master—delayed. Exactly what would that path have achieved, eh?”
    “I really don’t care,” I said.
    “You don’t care, eh? You don’t care about your father anymore?”
    “You know damn well I care about Father.”
    He sneered at my cursing. “And I know damn well you care about your mother, too. And the family name, come to that. So why are you so intent on dragging it through the mud? Why are you seeing to it that you never get as far as Grand Master?”
    “It is my
destiny
to be Grand Master,” I replied, realizing with an uncomfortable twinge that I reminded myself of May Carroll.
    “A destiny can change, child.”
    “I’m not a child anymore,” I reminded him. “I am twenty years old.”
    His expression saddened. “You’ll always be a child to me, Élise. Don’t forget I can remember the little girl learning sword fighting in the woods. Most able pupil I ever had, but also the most impulsive. Bit too full of herself.” He looked sideways at me. “You been keeping up your sword fighting?”
    I scoffed. “In here? How would I manage that?”
    Sarcastically, he pretended to think. “Oh, let’s see. Um, how about by keeping a low profile so your every move wasn’t watched. So you could sneak away every now and then instead of always being the center of attention. The sword given to you by your mother was for exactly that purpose.”
    I felt guilty. “Well, no. As you know I haven’t been doing that.”
    “And so your skills have been neglected.”
    “Then why send me away to a school where that was bound to happen?”
    “Point is, it wasn’t
bound
to happen. You shouldn’t have let it happen. You’re to be a Grand Master.”
    “Well, that could change, according to you,” I retorted, feeling like I’d won the point.
    He didn’t miss a beat. “And it
will
change if you don’t knuckle down and mend your ways. That lot you call the Crows—Messieurs Lafrenière, Le Peletier, Sivert, and Madame Levesque—are just dying to see you slip up. You think it’s all cozy in the Order, do you? That they’re all strewing flowers ahead of your coronation as their ‘rightful queen,’ like in the history books? Nothing could be further from the truth. Every single one of them would like to end the reign of de la Serre and make it so their family name carries the title Grand Master. Every single one of them is looking for reasons to depose your father and snatch the title for himself. Their policies differ from those of your father, remember? He hangs on to their confidence by a thread. Having an errant daughter is the last thing he bloody needs. Besides . . .”
    “What?”
    He glanced to the door. No doubt Madame Levene had her ear pressed hard against it, and it was for her benefit that Mr. Weatherall said loudly, “And just you make sure you use your very best handwriting, mademoiselle.”
    Quietening, he leaned closer toward me. “You remember the two men who attacked you, no doubt?”
    “How could I forget?”
    “Well,” continued Mr. Weatherall, “I promised your mother I’d find the fella who wore the doctor outfit, and I think I have.”
    I gave him a look.
    “Yeah, all right,” he admitted, “so it’s taken me a while. But I’ve found him is the important thing.”
    Faces so close they were almost touching. I could smell wine on his breath.
    “Who is he?” I asked.
    “His name is Ruddock, and he is indeed an Assassin, or
was
, at least.”
    He went on, “Seems that he was excommunicated from the Order. Been trying to get back in ever since.”
    “Why was he