Chapter One
Geret Branbrey Valan sat in the office of his uncle’s seneschal, cooling his heels until the seneschal decided to deal with him. He parked his tall frame in the green velvet armchair, carelessly propped his muddy boots on the matching footstool, and gave a world-weary sigh. This is always the dullest part, he thought. Waiting for the inevitably boring punishment. I go through all this trouble, and they can’t ever come up with something interesting in return. I’m not sure why I bother anymore.
But Geret had no intention of stopping; he always enjoyed the anticipation too much. His longish light brown hair was in his eyes again; he shook it out and let his gaze drift across the ancient, cobweb-cornered portraits hung on the maroon-and-white papered walls of the seneschal’s office. All boring people. Boring and dead. This whole place is so boring. Why isn’t anyone here into fun?
The corners of Geret’s mouth rose as he recalled the fun he’d just had. He’d had perfect execution and impeccable timing, gauging his performance for not only his victim, but several passing ladies of nobility. Their shrieks and following laughter had warmed his trickster’s heart immensely.
Geret’s brown eyes fell next on the seneschal’s desk. Rectangular, dark and scuffed, it proudly proclaimed the man as unimaginative as a dim-witted goat. Geret smirked and gave a short laugh. The desk was remarkably similar to another desk he recalled visiting quite often. Geret wondered if all seneschals were required to be boring and unimaginative, and had to use the same kind of desks. His last visit to that other desk was, in fact, irrevocably linked to his transfer of lodgings to where he lived today. Geret inhaled deeply, and with a smile, he thought back to his most glorious achievement to date.
The Wicked Heroine Page 3