A Feast Most Foul
A Ducal Detective Mystery
Sarah E. Burr
This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and situations within its pages and places or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 by Sarah Burr
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
First Printing, 2017
www.sarahburr.com
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Acknowledgements
Dedications
Chapter One
Her head pounded abruptly on the window of her carriage, jolting her awake. Looking around in a daze, she wearily noticed the change in the landscape surrounding her. No longer did her purple eyes reflect the rolling hills of her beloved Saphire, but the sprawling plains of Mensina, the dukedom ruled by her austere grandfather. Outside, she could hear the chatter of the ducal guards accompanying her royal procession, each man sounding truly excited to be included in this matter of ceremony. Had any of them been traveling with her inside the carriage, she doubted even her bleak mood would burst their youthful bubbles of joy.
Leaning back against the soft, cushioned headboard, Jax stared up at the intricately carved ceiling. This trip churned a whirlwind of emotions inside her. With her parents’ murder a mere few months ago, the Duchess thought she’d finally started coming to terms with the betrayal uncovered by investigating their deaths. But as she rode down the same path they planned to travel that fateful day, her wounded heart began to bleed once more. Her grandfather had given her ample time to recover, or so his courtiers curtly explained, and was now requesting her presence at the Feast of Champions to recognize those who competed in Mensina’s Tournament of Virtues. A tourney her parents set out to attend all those weeks ago, but instead, lost their lives.
Jax was still quite annoyed that her grandfather demanded she attend this ridiculous event primed with pomp and circumstance, just to support his duchy. She hardly thought her presence mattered, but he was insistent that her appearance at his ducal table would put to rest any doubts about her resolve to rule. Jax smirked as she remembered forcefully reprimanding the trembling courtier delivering the lecture. There were no doubts concerning her ability to reign as Duchess of Saphire, seeing as how the duchy continued to prosper under her rule and survived its most recent scandal. Word of her benevolent leadership spread throughout the Realm of Virtues, cementing her high esteem with the other nations.
Considering she had not seen her mother’s family in nearly three years now, Jax doubted this would be a welcoming family reunion. Bitter that her grandfather continued the Mensina tourney after learning of his eldest daughter’s death, she’d pouted the entire journey at the thought of being civil toward him. He didn’t even have the decency to send a representative to her own coronation, for virtue's sake. Why should she go out of her way to make him happy? She had yet to figure out why he had extended her an invitation to the Feast of Champions at all. What did he care if Saphire was thought of as weak with her at the helm? Wouldn’t that pave the way for the duchy of Mensina to rise in the ducal rankings?
Her top suspect surrounding the sudden invitation trotted outside her carriage with her guardsmen. Lord Pettraud, the seventh son of the Duke of Pettraud, was her formal suitor, and their prospective marriage posed potential issues for the other duchies. It was no secret Saphire was the leading duchy in the realm, and with an unmarried woman now on the throne, there was a chance to control Saphire through her hand in marriage. She had no doubt that her grandfather would present a Mensina man, probably a distant cousin, to try and usurp Duke Pettraud from getting his hands on Saphire’s power. Little did her grandfather, or even Duke Pettraud, understand, but Duchess Jacqueline Arienta Xavier was no one’s puppet. She and Perry had a mutual fondness for one another, and the Duchess suspected that one day she could grow to truly love him, but she would not allow her duchy to be taken from her and ruled by other men. Perry knew this, and respected her more for it. Her duty was to her throne and her people. She would not lead them astray— not after everything her father had done to ensure his dukedom reigned supreme.
Closing her eyes, she pictured her parents, her father’s handsome face, boyish and lively, and her mother’s, regal, beautiful, and immaculate. She saw so much of herself in them. Her mother’s honey-colored hair and high cheekbones, her father’s pristine purple eyes, the mark of a ducal line. She missed them dearly. She had never been in the presence of her formidable grandfather alone, and she was not looking forward to the experience without her father by her side. Her grandfather held the old-world view that a duchess was simply not as competent as a duke. His degrading comments broiled in her mind. “A woman’s place is beside a man, never where he stands.” Groaning, she remembered a winter’s feast from her childhood when her grandfather berated her for entering the room before one of his sons-in-law. “But why, Grand-Père?” she’d asked. “I am to be a duchess, and he is nothing!” Oh, how she’d been punished for that remark. She did not receive any presents during the celebration, except for the ones her father secretly left under her pillow.
A tap on the window jolted her from her reverie and Captain Solomon’s strong, attractive face appeared before her. “Your Grace, we shall be arriving at the palace in about an hour or so.”
Although the prospect of seeing Duke Mensina made her cringe, she smiled with genuine appreciation for her most loyal ducal guardsman. She was grateful he hadn’t insisted on staying behind to watch over the duchy. This being her first visit abroad since her coronation, she felt particularly on edge and wanted people she could trust around her. She would be on display for the entire world to see, and after the assassination of her parents, she still felt very vulnerable to an attack. Captain Solomon made sure his best men were left in charge of the Saphire, and High Courtier Jaquobie, her royal advisor, was left to oversee the day-to-day administration in her absence. She did not want to be gone long, but her grandfather insisted she stay the full fortnight of the festival. “A time to get closer to your family, my dear. They are all you have left now,” his courtiers said. Jax’s stomach rolled at the thought. What family? The Mensina were virtually strangers to her, having shipped off their eldest daughter to marry the son of the wealthiest duke in the realm. Since their marriage and her subsequent birth, Jax remembered only a handful of times when she’d seen her mother’s kin.
Pressing powder to her travel-worn face, Jax looked jadedly at the vacant seat before her, where a lady-in-waiting normally accompanied their sovereign. Jax had yet to select a replacement to fill the position, gladly taking on the responsibilities herself. The help of her maid Uma, who traveled in the carriage behind her, was all the help she needed, or wanted, for the meantime. As much as it mortified Jaquobie that the Duchess of Saphire would be traveling without a lady-in-waiting, Jax just didn’t have the heart to replace her beloved childhood friend Aranelda. She doubted she would ever be able to find anyone to fill the role, and decided weeks ago that rather than settling for someone she didn’t fully trust,
she would do without for the time being.
A short while later, Jax heard the creaking welcome of the Mensina gates, opening to allow their party entrance into the lively city. Curious to see the state of the capital, Jax eagerly peered out the small carriage window, but was careful to keep her face hidden from the townsfolk. She wasn’t quite ready to be gawked at just yet.
Much like Sephretta, the capital city of Saphire, Mycenia was a bold display of the power Mensina held across the realm. When she was a small child, Jax remembered her paternal grandfather, the Duke of Saphire, and his constant lament, “Never trust those who want your power for their own.” He often spoke of the marriage between his beloved son and Lady Amaryllis, the eldest of Duke Mensina’s daughters, regaling how the trickster planned to use his own daughter to manipulate her new husband and take Saphire for his own. Yet something happened that Duke Mensina did not anticipate; his daughter fell in love and put her husband’s duchy before the one of her birth. Lady Amaryllis eventually confided in Jax’s father and grandfather about Duke Mensina’s desires, and since then, Mensina has been kept at arm’s length.
The Duchess could see now, as she gazed at the cobbled streets and bustling markets, that imitation was the sincerest form of flattery. It had been a few years since she’d been to Mensina, and she hardly recalled it looking eerily like her own nation. The Duke must have been busy cultivating his empire in the new era of globalization her own father had introduced to the realm.
The late afternoon sun caressed the red clay rooftops, drawing Jax’s attention to the impending skyline. While no other palace rivaled the grand castle of Saphire, she couldn’t help but be impressed by the lofty towers rising into the sky, a beautiful silhouette in the peachy sunlight. In a flash memory, Jax reminisced climbing to the top of one of those towers to spy on the handsome guardsmen in the courtyard, with Arnie by her side.
With a heavy sigh, Jax smoothed her burgundy skirts, waiting for the luxurious carriage to roll to a stop. She made sure that every aspect of her traveling party reflected the wealth and power of her duchy. Her royal guards were adorned in new gold and purple tunics, her carriage recently renovated with gleaming jewels and gold accents, and she had an entirely new wardrobe, courtesy of Monsieur Duval, her personal tailor. Lastly, she had ensured that only her most glorious crowns were brought for the various ceremonies and parties. The simplest of them sat on top of her honey-colored hair now, glittering in the natural light of the fading day. It was pure gold with three amethysts embedded into each swooping point; the gems chosen for how well they highlighted her imperial purple irises— the mark of a true ducal blood line.
Captain Solomon’s warm, common-born brown eyes greeted her through the window. “Your Grace, it appears your grandfather is waiting to receive you,” he stated formally, but the concern in his gaze told her what she needed to know. Her grandfather planned to meet her out here in the open, to let the realm gawk while he greeted his estranged granddaughter with feigned affection. Rarely did a Duke ever meet guests face-to-face, unless they wanted to make a show of it for some political reason or another. She would need to be cautious.
“He looks ever so welcoming.” Lord Pettraud’s handsome figure appeared at her carriage door, his arm extended in reverence to her. His dark hair was unruly from riding horseback, but he still looked as beautiful as the day she first laid eyes on him. His lavender eyes crinkled with suppressed laughter as she nipped at him to shut his mouth. Perry was forever getting himself into trouble by speaking his often-inappropriate mind, and she begged the virtues that he did not embarrass her in front of her daunting grandfather.
“Perry, please remember what Courtier Jaquobie instructed. Around my grandfather, it's better if your mouth remains closed,” Jax hissed under her breath as she demurely stepped out of her carriage.
“What, am I here as just a pretty face, then?” Perry asked with mock indignation.
“Yes.” Her eyes flashed, already cursing him for distracting her from making a smooth entrance. The last thing she needed was to be seen bickering and reprimanding her intended consort.
She heard shuffling from behind her wall of guards, and saw a horn rise into the air. “Presenting Her Illustrious Highness, Jacqueline Arienta Xavier, Duchess of Saphire,” a voice boomed, as if projecting all around the courtyard, trumpets heralding her arrival.
Her sentinels marched in front of her, a wall barricading her from any surrounding eyes, even those of her grandfather. Beside her as they walked arm-in-arm, Perry snorted at her title, remembering the first time he’d heard her called that. “Is that a real thing, then?”
Jax couldn’t hide a smirking chuckle. “I think it makes me sound rather important, don’t you think?”
“Why not ‘Her Divine Magnificence’? Now, that has a quite the ring to it.”
Jax comically pondered. “You know what? You just might be right. I’ll have to send word to all the courtiers in the land to make sure I’m announced as lavishly as possible.” Her response caused the two of them to dissolve into giggles, their attention diverted from the parting of her Ducal Guard.
“My, it is so lovely to see my granddaughter smiling in light of all the tragedy that has befallen her recently.” A gritty, deep voice cut through the air, sending a chill down Jax’s spine. Her eyes trailed up the steep steps ahead of her delegation, an imposingly broad man looming down from the top. Wiry gray hair was tamed by a gaudy crown, dark purple eyes staring right into her soul.
“Greetings, Grand-Père. It is delightful to be in Mensina once more,” Jax responded, not addressing her grandfather by his proper title, nor giving him a bow. She and Jaquobie had planned for days how she was to receive her family, and they decided that reminding her grandfather of his place in the realm was the best move to show Saphire’s constant strength.
The flash of anger she saw in the elderly man’s eyes told Jax she’d hit a sore spot. Nevertheless, she ascended the stairs like a graceful cat, opening her arms for a stiff, unpleasant hug. If anyone had been watching them closely, which most people in the courtyard were, they would have hardly noticed that the two ducal rulers barely touched one another.
Turning her attention to those gathered around them, Jax searched the crowd for familiar faces. “Ah, my lovely aunts,” she exclaimed with genuine affection, for her mother often spoke fondly of her four sisters. The youngest, Amia, petite and fair, was only a few years older than Jax. She came forward from the crowd first to kiss her niece on each cheek. Adelaide and Adella, taller and striking dark-haired twins, greeted her warmly, followed by Annette, her mother’s closest sister.
“You look so much like our dear Amaryllis, Your Grace.” Annette wistfully stroked Jax’s cheek. Nearing forty years of age, Annette looked like the ghost of her mother. Both had the same straight, delicate nose, luscious honey tresses, and high cheekbones. Although looking at her now, Annette seemed to have an air of contentment about her, where her mother had an air of cool superiority.
“You’re too kind, Lady Annette. I wish you could have visited for the funeral.” Jax couldn’t help the bitterness that laced her words. Her grandfather’s grudge against her father seemingly prevented any family members from being at the public memorial as well as her subsequent coronation gala.
At the sensitive remark, Amia’s eyes flared up toward her father. “Believe me, dear niece, we wish we could have been there as well.”
Keeping her face neutral, Jax inwardly celebrated. She was heartened to know that her aunts were not in agreement with Grand-Père’s decision. “Well, I’m thankful that we have this time to catch up with one another, now that I’m here.” Giving Amia’s arm a reassuring squeeze, she turned back to the Duke. “Have the festivities formally begun, Grand-Père?”
He cringed again at her use of his pet name, but ushered her inside the palace foyer, away from the prying eyes of ducal staff working in the outdoor gardens. “There are a few delegations we are still waiting for, but House Mensina will
kick off the feast this evening with a special joust. We are encouraging all knights to partake in the entertainment.”
She felt Perry straighten beside her. “That sounds delightful. I’d like to nominate Lord Pettraud to represent Saphire, since none of our knights remained for the full length of the tourney.” Her words were cool, as she remembered issuing the order to summon the Saphire knights back to their duchy following the untimely deaths of their Duke and Duchess. She had been shocked to learn upon their arrival home that Duke Mensina refused to abort the tournament, hence Saphire placed last in the standings. “I believe Lord Pettraud took home a few trophies when he was here.”
Duke Mensina didn’t even meet her gaze, turning his full attention to Perry, his beady eyes inspecting every inch of her future consort. “Ah, yes. Lord Pettraud won a few medals in the cross-country rounds. A brilliant rider, if I recall.”
Surprised that her grandfather opted for flattery, she saw her companion flush dangerously with pride at the Duke’s compliment. Despite her stern warning, Perry broke his silence and bowed to her grandfather. “I am delighted to be here, sir. It is an honor.”
Barely acknowledging Perry’s greeting, Duke Mensina turned to his daughters and motioned for them to accompany him inside. “My steward will show you to your rooms, Jacqueline. I shall see you at dinner.” With that, he marched swiftly through the palace doors, his long red cloak trailing behind him.
In his place, a tall, stick-thin man appeared from the shadows, dressed in fine silk clothes that hung awkwardly from his slender frame. With a balding head of hair, and greasy beard, he reminded Jax of a weasel. His nose twitched, as if he smelled something sour, his expression condescending as he approached her. “Your Grace, if you will please follow me, I will show your delegation to your guest apartments in the southern wing.” His haughty tone assaulted Jax’s eardrums, making her fume.
A Feast Most Foul (Ducal Detective Mysteries Book 2) Page 1