“Of course, Master Steward. Lead the way,” she replied with equal arrogance, Perry stifling a snort behind her as the Master Steward led the Saphire group from the courtyard into the bowels of the castle. She found herself continuously rolling her eyes at the gaudy, ostentatious decorations that littered the corridor walls. Her grandfather seemed to be fond of the naked human form, considering how many de-robed statues she counted along the way to their private wing.
“The Duke requests your prompt arrival at the jousting tourney this evening. I shall be back to collect you at six to escort you down to the arena.” With hardly a bow, the Master Steward turned on a shiny heel and clomped languidly away.
“He’s quite the character,” Perry surmised from the door of his chambers, watching the slimy man disappear down the long hall.
Jax frowned, not remembering this odious man from her previous stays. “He must be new to his position. He hardly seems to know how to properly address a Duchess.” She pursed her lips in disapproval, wondering why her grandfather kept such a pompous man around.
“Your Grace, shall I prepare a bath for you?” Uma emerged from the small room she claimed, adjacent to Jax’s apartment.
Jax smiled gratefully. “That would be wonderful, Uma. You always know just what I need.” Uma had been her private maid since she attended the Academy, which felt like ages ago. Quiet and reserved, she made the perfect companion, always in tune with what her Duchess needed without Jax having to ask. “But make sure you leave enough time for yourself to get ready. I’ve arranged for you to attend the evening’s events.”
At this, Uma’s eyes brightened with excitement. Since the passing of her parents, Jax tried to make more of an effort to include Uma in her life, outside of mere servant work. Uma had been incredibly faithful to her, and Jax wanted to repay the woman’s kindness by letting her have a little fun.
Clearing his throat, Perry saluted his goodbye as he closed his door. “I’ll let you ladies have at it. I’m going to rest up a bit.”
As soon as the young lord’s door clicked shut, Jax motioned to Captain Solomon, who was standing duty near the south wing entrance. “George, I want you to make sure Lord Pettraud does not leave his room unattended and go wandering off. The last thing I need is for him to meet someone and run his mouth without my supervision.”
Chuckling at her familiarity, Captain Solomon rolled his eyes. “Jax, he’s a grown man. He can take care of himself, you know.”
Giving the captain a severe look, Jax pleaded once more. “Please, at least for tonight. I don’t want Saphire making the wrong kind of splash.” She knew she could just order her ducal guardsman to do what she wanted, but considering her close friendship with George Solomon, she hoped he would do it without protest.
“I’ll assign him an escort for the night. Although I’m sure my men would rather be enjoying the celebrations themselves,” he said with a sigh, making Jax feel slightly guilty, but not enough for her to change her mind.
“I’ll treat them to a pitcher of mead tomorrow, then. Just make sure he doesn’t stick his foot in his mouth and cause trouble,” Jax quipped before shutting her door with finality. Leaning against the frame for support, she surveyed the apartment her grandfather had reserved for her. Much smaller than her quarters at home, she frowned as she noticed dust covering much of the space. Obviously, this was Duke Mensina’s move to put her in check.
Fortunately, Uma made swift work of filling the porcelain tub and Jax lowered herself into the calming bath waters, her mind replaying the events of the afternoon. She wasn’t sure where it came from, but she’d seen a devious spark in her grandfather’s eyes that made her feel uneasy.
Chapter Two
Uma outdid herself putting together Jax’s ensemble for the evening. Looking at her trim figure in the mirror, Jax’s own breath caught as she admired the stunning mint green ball gown, dripping with golden jewels. Her honey hair was gathered up into a regal pile of curls, a decadent crown sitting amid her tresses. With expertly applied makeup that heightened the intensity of her purple eyes, Jax knew no one would dare question her authority as a ducal ruler. “Excellent work, Uma. I hope you saved enough time to get yourself ready. I must meet the Master Steward now, but I shall see you later in the evening.” Smiling warmly, Jax floated out of her room and into the hallway.
Perry stood at attention, wearing the traditional Saphire knights’ ceremonial wear and a rather anxious expression. Preoccupied with his thoughts, he didn’t notice Jax’s presence until she was right beside him, at which time his eyes nearly popped out of his head. “My goodness, you look striking.”
She coyly twisted a ringlet of hair. “Why, thank you, Sir Knight. I see you are prepared for the joust.” Her eyes flicked to the dazzling sword hilt protruding from under his cloak.
“Well, someone signed me up for this without even asking. I thought I was going to have a relaxing evening.”
His words surprised her. “I’m sorry, Perry. I thought this would be something you’d enjoy.” She fidgeted under his gaze, crestfallen that she’d disappointed him.
His stone face broke into a grin. “Only joking. My escort and I did a bit of surveillance in the Great Hall. The knights are already sloshed off their faces, so my pristine frame of mind should give me quite the advantage.”
Jax’s face blushed at Perry’s implication. He obviously knew she was having him monitored, but he chose the high road and did not pester her about it. “I’m sure you’ll represent Saphire well.”
A sadness appeared in his eyes that she was unable to account for. “I plan to, Your Grace.”
Before she could pry further about his sudden change in mood, the Master Steward arrived, beckoning them to follow. “I will escort you to the ducal box at the arena, Duchess Jacqueline Arienta, and then deliver Lord Pettraud to the jousting grounds.” The man instructed in a wheezing voice. Jax made a face behind his back, catching Perry’s eye. While the steward reminded her of her own High Courtier, Jaquobie, the man slouched before her was much slimier and more revolting. Why her grandfather had appointed him to such a position of power, was beyond her.
She was grateful, however, to have someone lead her through the winding maze of palace walls and out into the gardens toward the tournament arena. Even though she had visited Mensina a handful of times in the past, she was no expert at navigating the imposing fortress. Mensina was known for its state-of-the-art showground, frequently the duchy of choice for tournament games. She could see a horde of tents pitched all around the arena, each bearing the flag of a visiting duchy. She assumed this was where most of the knights attending the Feast of Champions made camp during their stay. Jax was one of few awarded the honor of staying in the palace for the fortnight, or so Duke Mensina’s courtiers liked to remind her. She would have laughed in their faces if they seriously believed she would even consider staying in a tent.
Surveying the rows of campsites, Jax lost count quickly. “Looks like you’ll have some competition this evening, Lord Pettraud,” she commented formally, mostly for the benefit of the Master Steward slinking ahead of them.
She saw Perry’s gaze sweep the fields, nodding mutely. She frowned, wondering if his quiet behavior was due to nerves. Rarely had she ever seen him looking anything but joyful. It troubled her. Perry was her ray of sunshine; she hated seeing anxiety on his face.
Seeing a flurry of motion to her right, she caught sight of her grandfather being carried down to the grounds on a royal rickshaw. Her initial thought was indignation at not being offered the same courtesy, being made to walk instead. Not that she minded, as she’d been cooped up all day in her own carriage, but the affront was still blatant disrespect on her grandfather’s part. The second thing she noticed was that the old man looked incredibly displeased. She suspected he was angry about something. Hitching up her skirts, she quickened her pace and raced past her sputtering guide. “Grand-Père!”
With a sharp look over his shoulder, he barked his driver t
o halt. “Not now, Jacqueline. I have an urgent matter to attend to.”
Reaching his side, with Perry close behind, she rested her hand on the arm of his carriage. The Duke was agitated, which alarmed her somewhat, for he was not a man to lose his composure. “I can tell something’s wrong. My mother always got the same little furrow on her forehead when she was upset.”
Perhaps it was the mention of his departed first child that caused her grandfather to sigh with strangled emotion. For a moment, he rubbed his temples, his gray hair getting in his way. “It’s nothing to concern you. I wouldn’t want to dampen the evening’s events for you.”
She slowly moved her hand off the carriage and clasped Duke Mensina’s trembling fingers, the most intimate gesture she’d made toward him since she was a child. “It does not seem like nothing, Grand-Père.” Her curiosity burned bright, her mind churning.
Looking at her through his dark violet eyes, he grimaced as if in physical pain. “I just learned that one of my messengers was killed on his way back from delivering an invitation to the Feast of Champions.”
While shocked to learn of the death, it surprised Jax that the news affected her grandfather’s hard heart so greatly. “What happened? Was he attacked by Cetachi rebels?” Her mind went immediately to the wild men living in the ungoverned, swampland province. The rogues were forever causing chaos across the Realm of Virtues, trying to overthrow the ducal system.
Duke Mensina huffed at her unfounded conclusion. “Oh goodness, no, child. Don’t be ridiculous. The royal physician said he was stabbed by a unicorn. The horn went right through the poor boy. He was barely fifteen.”
“A unicorn?” Perry spoke up, sounding confused. “Why on the virtues would a unicorn kill the lad?”
Jax turned to her suitor, knowing that he had never encountered a unicorn in the flesh before. “It probably got spooked and charged at him. While they are beautiful beasts, they are still wild and dangerous.”
Duke Mensina shifted in his seat. “I must deliver the news personally to the boy’s father. He’s a member of my private ducal guard. I shall see you in the box, Jacqueline, and you on the field, Lord Pettraud.” With a whistle, he signaled his carriage to resume its journey.
Jax watched him disappear into the rowdy crowd swelling ahead of them. “That’s terrible. His poor family.”
“Not the best omen for the festival, either,” Perry mumbled, resting a hand on the hilt of his sword. “Makes me not want to see a unicorn as much anymore, for certain.”
Nodding in agreement, they continued down the path toward the arena, the Master Steward introducing them to delegations from other duchies along the way. Jax noticed she was the only sovereign among the invited nations; the other duchies had sent their knights alone on their behalf, accompanied by a courtier or two. She growled inwardly, knowing her presence was merely a stunt to promote her grandfather’s standing in the ducal order. If he could be seen alongside his granddaughter, the Duchess of Saphire, it would raise his ranking among the other leaders, especially after the distance her late father had put between Mensina and Saphire over the years.
The Master Steward made good on his word and delivered her first to the royal box in the grandstands of the arena. It was positioned high above the field, but in dead center, giving her the ideal view to watch every aspect of the action.
“I’ll be watching you with rapt attention,” she teased Perry, her laughter dying on her lips as she caught sight of his pensive expression. His lavender eyes scanned the fairgrounds, but the alertness was clouded over by something she couldn’t quite identify. “Perry, is everything all right? You seem out of sorts.” She waved a hand in front of his face, drawing his focus back to her.
“I suppose I am still a bit worn out from our journey, that’s all,” he mumbled, absently grasping the hilt of his sword.
His lame response troubled Jax. Obviously, he had something more pressing on his mind, but with the Master Steward watching them from the shadows, she decided not to press him further. Bidding goodbye and good luck to her preoccupied knight, Jax entered the seating area to find a few of her aunts already present with their husbands. Adelaide and Adella sat together in the front row of regal chairs, while Amia sat in the back of the space with a gaggle of children surrounding her, whom Jax guessed were her young cousins.
Adelaide noticed Jax first, her mouth dropping open. “Jacqueline, you look breathtaking, my dear. The knights won’t be able to concentrate on their jousting when they see you.”
Smirking, Jax glanced down at the gathering crowd finding their seats in the arena. “I think Grand-Père had the Master Steward parade me around the grounds for that very reason.”
Amia’s head snapped up. “Reginald made you walk down here? What game is he playing?” She pushed herself off the ground, brushing her beautifully tailored yellow dress free of wrinkles.
Glad to have a name to put to the unpleasant steward, Jax gave her aunt an exasperated look before making her way to greet the husbands in the room.
As she approached, the men bowed in unison, their bright amber eyes gleaming, a symbol of their noble pedigree. Jax thought all her uncles looked the same, mostly because they came from the same bloodline. The Lacosta family was one of the wealthiest noble houses in the region, and when it became apparent Duke Mensina could only get his first daughter married off to a Duke, he chose his daughters’ suitors based on their ability to contribute to the ducal treasury. Amia and Adella’s husbands were brothers, and Adelaide was married to a Lacosta cousin, which accounted for the brood of children who all looked eerily alike in the back of the room. “It’s good to see you all.” She held her hand out to each of her uncles for a kiss, trying to remember their names, but failing miserably. She’d been twelve the last time she’d seen them. She didn’t even try to engage with the children, fearful that their messy hands would ruin her gown.
Taking a seat next to her grandfather’s arena throne, she surveyed the field with calculating eyes. Knights from all over the realm were filing in on armored horses, most looking like they regretted starting their celebrations so early in the day. “Is this expected to take long? I’m famished.” Jax placed a hand on her growling stomach, perturbed that her grandfather hadn’t sent any food to her rooms.
Adella took a seat behind her, giving a small chuckle. “You haven’t changed a bit, dear niece.”
She was about to repeat her question, in need of a response, when Duke Mensina entered the box, scowling darkly. He likely had just returned from giving the news of the page boy’s unfortunate demise, so Jax chose to keep her mouth shut. Reginald slinked in behind her grandfather, giving Jax a sour appraisal.
“Take your seats, everyone. We’re about to begin.” Duke Mensina barked the words to his daughters, their husbands obediently scampering to the remaining chairs. With a flick of a finger, a trumpeter was signaled, and a horn cried for silence over the grandstand. “Citizens of Mensina and revered guests! Welcome to the Feast of Champions!” Her grandfather’s voice carried heartily throughout the stadium, his gruff appearance melting into that of an endearing host. “Over the next fortnight, we shall celebrate and honor the knights who triumphed at the Tournament of Virtues. For your entertainment, these knights have returned to the arena for a joust. The winner of tonight’s event will be the Master of Champions and have the privilege of dining at my ducal table.” Looking down at the assembled sea of men, the Duke continued, “in the name of the Virtues, let the best man win!”
With her amethyst eyes, Jax searched the crowd, hoping to spot Perry. Sighing in disappointment, she could not find the purple-and-gold garb of Saphire amongst the group, so she sat back and watched the game unfold before her. Knights were paired against each other, the winner of the match continuing to play until just two knights were left in the arena. It was a sloppy mess for the most part; Jax could practically smell the mead from her seat. It wasn’t until there were five pairs left on the field that she finally recognized Per
ry. Instead of the purple and gold knights’ tunic Master Duval designed for him, he wore the colors of Pettraud.
“I thought Lord Pettraud was representing Saphire in tonight’s event?” her grandfather mentioned slyly from his seat next to her.
I did too. Inwardly, Jax seethed, but gave the Duke a sweet smile. “Our grandmaster armorer unfortunately made Lord Pettraud’s neck piece a bit too snug, so we opted for the more mobile choice.” Figuring it was better to throw her armorer under the carriage rather than admit her ward’s blatant disrespect for her duchy, Jax smoothly brushed the conversation off her shoulder. She would have a word with Perry after the joust.
Amia leaned forward from the second row, whispering in Jax’s ear. “Lord Pettraud is quite adept at this. I remember him performing well in horsemanship during the Tournament of Virtues. I didn’t realize he was a skilled fighter. No doubt, he will make it to the final round against the Knight with No Face.”
Jax turned her head around, giving her aunt a confused look. “The Knight with No Face?”
Grinning like a lovesick schoolgirl, Amia giggled. “He’s the representative from Beautraud, a legend in the arena. He’s won over seventy contests in his day.”
Jax searched the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of the warrior. “Why do they call him the Knight with No Face?”
“When he’s in competition, he is never seen without his helmet on. He eats in secrecy within his tent, so that none of his opponents will know who he is. There are very few people in Beautraud that even know what he looks like. His whole career has been shrouded in mystery.” Amia’s face reflected her childish delight as she offered the rapid explanation.
Jax looked down at the field, her eyes locking on the knight clad in the black-and-yellow armor of Beautraud, a southern duchy in the realm. “Well, how is he going to participate in the feast? With his helmet on the whole time?”
From the corner of her eye, she saw her grandfather’s mouth lift with smug triumph. “We received word from his delegation yesterday that the Knight with No Face plans to announce his retirement this very evening, taking off his helmet to reveal the man beneath.”
A Feast Most Foul (Ducal Detective Mysteries Book 2) Page 2