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Back Joan
Chapters (43)
  1. Cover
  2. Epigraph
  3. CAST OF CHARACTERS
  4. Map
  5. Part One
  6. I
  7. II
  8. III
  9. IV
  10. V
  11. VI
  12. VII
  13. Part Two
  14. I
  15. II
  16. III
  17. IV
  18. V
  19. VI
  20. VII
  21. VIII
  22. IX
  23. X
  24. Part Three
  25. I
  26. II
  27. III
  28. IV
  29. V
  30. Part Four
  31. I
  32. II
  33. III
  34. IV
  35. V
  36. VI
  37. EPILOGUE
  38. afterword
  39. Dedication
  40. acknowledgments
  41. By Katherine J. Chen
  42. about the author
  43. What’s next onyour reading list?

She feels someone touch her armored back. Even through steel, her shoulder flinches. It is La Hire. “The boy is dead,” he says. His voice is even. The sight of death is nothing to him, a seasoned soldier. But even La Hire has called him a boy. He sees how young he was. “Leave him, Joan.”

She does. The dead stay dead.

She is fetching her supper to bring to her room and eat alone when a throat clears from behind.

They are all here. At the head of the table: Jean de Dunois, Bastard of Orléans. To his left, sitting on one side: Gilles de Rais, Jean Poton de Xaintrailles, and Raoul de Gaucourt. On the other: La Hire, Ambroise de Loré, and Jean de la Brosse. The captains of the French army gathered together.

Joan is about to walk past them with her bowl of stew when La Hire coughs in her direction. What? More insults?

At the corner of the table, the jutting end awkward to sit at, someone has set an extra chair.

“Yours,” Dunois says, addressing the word to the ceiling. He gestures at the chair as if swatting away a fly. “Why don’t you take a seat?”

The men are silent, but no one stands in her way or sticks his boot out to trip her. She sits, the table corner poking into her stomach. She breaks off a piece of bread and dips it in a cup of diluted wine, which La Hire has poured for her. When she raises the cup, she checks it first. No beetles. No dead mouse. She drinks.

La Hire, who is watching her, makes a clicking sound with his tongue. “You trust no one,” he says.

“No, not no one,” she replies. “Just not you.” Yet their voices are bantering.

It is quiet but for the sound of eating. Everyone seems suddenly shy, like children left together to exchange names and become friends. Joan keeps her head down. A plate of ham edges closer to her bowl. She chews, pretending not to notice. But the ham keeps moving closer, as if it has grown legs. When she looks up, she sees the hand of Dunois nudging the plate. He is studying her.

“Where did you learn…” he begins. He cannot quite finish the sentence. He takes a breath. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”