Amia gave a breathless sigh. “It’s going to be the talk of the realm.”
Jax sat back in her chair, her curiosity piqued. Mensina was no doubt counting on the fame and notoriety of the Knight with No Face revealing himself to the world at their feast. And if the knight was as elusive as Amia claimed him to be, Mensina could very well upset the balance of power in the realm with this little exploit. While her own duchy was secure in its ranking, she feared for her closest allies, Pettraud and Crepsta. If either felt their power shift or crumble because of this stunt, they might blame her for sitting at her grandfather’s side. Despite Amia’s glee at the entertainment aspect this Knight with No Face provided, Jax’s stomach flipped with slight worry.
“And now, our final round. Our champions, Lord Pettraud representing Saphire and the Knight with No Face from Beautraud!” An announcer's voice rattled Jax from her thoughts, her eyes drawn to the scene below. Sizing up the two men, Perry certainly appeared to have the upper hand in size and mentality. Like so many other knights on the field, the legendary Knight with No Face was knackered. He must have been a skilled warrior to make it this far in the competition considering the drunken state he was in.
Duke Mensina must have realized his champion’s state of mind, as well, for Jax caught his lips tightening in boiling anger. It would certainly take the wind out of his sails if the Knight with No Face failed to perform well.
The joust was over quickly, Perry delivering one direct blow to his opponent, the man landing flat on his back in a puff of dirt. Jax rose to her feet and clapped eagerly for her champion, relishing the sound of his name announced as the winner on behalf of her own duchy. Turning to leave the grandstand box, she paused in a manner befitting her title and thanked the Duke of Mensina for the pleasant event, making a point to claim her grandfather’s one-person rickshaw for her journey back to the palace.
Chapter Three
Her purple eyes scanned the crowds of men and women marching their way up to the castle for the feast, keeping an eye out for Perry. To her growing disappointment, he was nowhere to be found. Wondering if he had gone to change back into his Saphirian attire, she urged her driver onward until he pulled the rickshaw to the base of the palace steps. All eyes were on her as she gracefully floated up the stairs and through the entrance, murmurs of her beauty buzzing through the crowd. But her ears also detected an undercurrent of whispers, speculation about the deaths of her parents and her own safety. Jax knew the immediate threat to her life had been eliminated, but it was not something highly publicized. She felt ashamed of the betrayal she had been so blind to, so she buried the conspiracy as best she could.
“Your Grace, might I escort you into the banquet hall?” Captain Solomon appeared at her side, he and his men returning from both guarding her and watching the joust.
“Your presence would be welcomed, Captain.” Jax slipped her arm through his and they walked through the parted sea of people. “What did you think of the game?”
Captain Solomon chuckled. “I’d hardly call that a joust. Most of those men could barely stand, let alone fight. I will say I was impressed with Lord Pettraud, however. He was ruthless, not backing down an inch.”
Jax searched the crowd for her suitor, to no avail. “Yes, he was quite something,” she murmured, mostly to herself, as they stepped into the banquet hall, lined with dozens of long tables, each piled with food and wine. With the huge chandeliers flickering light overhead, it was an impressive sight by any standards. In her short tenure as Duchess, the largest group Jax hosted had been a hundred guests for her coronation. Duke Mensina appeared to be expecting well over three hundred. “Is one of your men still with Perry? I’ve lost track of him.” She surveyed the room once more, with no success.
“Yes, Jax. Someone will shadow him all night, until he retires for the evening.” George grunted at her precautions. “I don’t think he’s the one you need to worry about this evening. Your grandfather is in quite a sour mood.”
“I don’t think he was impressed by the final performance of this mysterious Knight with No Face. Apparently, we’re in for some big reveal tonight.” She waved her hands with a dramatic flourish, tugging a chuckle from her escort.
“We mustn’t dally then.” Captain Solomon motioned her through the myriad of tables, leading her up to the platform where the ducal table waited. She was the first to arrive. Her grandfather was likely planning an elaborate entrance with his other family members in tow. It did not bother her that she wasn’t included. She preferred to have a quick moment alone, overseeing the entire goings-on in the room.
At the blaring assault of a trumpet, those gathered struggled to stand at attention, waiting for their sovereign and host to make his appearance. Jax remained firmly seated in her chair, turning her head to the wings where she saw her grandfather’s looming shadow.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” a courtier’s voice echoed from atop a balcony, “may I present our gracious host for the Feast of Champions, Archibald Horatio Pendleton, Duke of Mensina.”
A thunderous applause followed as her grandfather walked purposefully to his seat at the long table, his four daughters in his wake. Amia, Adella, and Adelaide all sat beside their husbands to the left of her grandfather, and Annette took a chair on Jax’s right. Her beloved husband had died only a few months into their marriage, and as far as Jax knew, Annette made the choice not to remarry, a wish that Duke Mensina uncharacteristically granted. She remembered her mother sharing the news of Uncle Aaron’s passing, devastated at her darling sister’s heartbreak. “Don’t marry for love, Jacqueline. It’s more trouble than it’s worth.” To this day, Jax wondered if her mother had been talking about Annette’s heartbreak or her own, for her mother lost touch with her family by choosing to honor her husband over her father.
“Your Lord Pettraud will be joining us, yes?” Annette whispered into her ear. “He won the right to sit at the ducal table.”
Jax shot a glance at her grandfather, who seemed to be intentionally ignoring her, even though their elbows nearly touched. “I suppose that honor must be offered by our gracious host,” she replied coyly, loud enough for the words to tickle Duke Mensina’s ears.
As if on cue, Perry appeared before them, dressed in his untarnished Saphirian tunic. “Your Excellence.” He bowed, not addressing Jax, but the Duke.
Begrudgingly, her grandfather rose and cleared his throat, silencing the grand hall. “It is with honor that Mensina invites Lord Pettraud, the Master of Champions, to the ducal table.” At his sweeping gesture, a chair appeared to the left of his throne, skillfully placed by an invisible servant.
Stone-faced, Perry climbed up to the ducal table and took his seat, his profile barely visible to Jax. She imagined it was her grandfather’s calculating idea to separate them, on display in front of his entire duchy. Annette either saw the look of annoyance on her face, or guessed what she was thinking, for she felt her aunt give her arm a comforting squeeze.
With Duke Mensina monopolizing Perry’s time, Jax settled into an enjoyable conversation with Annette, each sharing the goings-on of their respective lives. Even when she was younger, Jax preferred Annette’s company over that of her other aunts. She was a woman of substance and intelligence, where the others seemed superficial and shallow.
“Oh boy,” Annette mumbled through a mouthful of chocolate soufflé. “Get ready for a show.”
Jax followed her gaze to the center of the room, noticing the Knight with No Face, still in full armor, making his way toward the front of the ducal table. To her left, her grandfather stiffened to attention, placing his goblet on the table with a commanding thud. While the Knight with No Face had not won the Feast of Champion’s jousting match, he remained a revered warrior, or so the hush in the room told Jax.
At last arriving in front of the Duke, the Knight with No Face bowed low, his black and yellow tunic brushing the ground. “Your Excellence, may I have the floor?”
Jax rolled her eyes at the request,
for the entire room was already eating out of the masked man’s palm, the silence almost unnerving.
Duke Mensina stood, his shadow casting down upon the knight. “You may, Sir Knight.” Crossing his arms, he looked expectantly at the warrior.
The Knight with No Face turned to the room, his voice liquid gold as it captured the attention of all. “Greetings, brave knights and esteemed courtiers of the realm. I have had the honor of representing Beautraud for the past seven summers as their champion, traveling all over the world to compete on their behalf. I come before the Duke of Mensina and his ducal table tonight to formally pass my mantle to my successors back in Beautraud, for I am officially removing my helmet.”
A gasp washed over the room, eyes widening and mouths hanging open. From her vantage point at the head of the room, Jax could see that this news was entirely unexpected. Whatever intelligence her grandfather had received about the knight’s retirement was indeed a well-guarded secret.
Milking the announcement for all its worth, the Knight with No Face slowly reached up behind his helmet and lifted the silver mask off his face. The guests couldn’t seem to decide if silence or a low murmur was warranted as the man revealed himself publicly for the first time.
Jax’s initial thought was that it was a shame a face that gorgeous had been hidden from view for so long. The Knight with No Face swept flowing gold locks away from his tanned, chiseled cheeks. A sharp, straight nose heightened the intensity of his amber eyes, the indication of his noble birthright. The knight turned around, giving the whole hall a quick glimpse at his stunning good looks. At last, his gaze rested directly on Jax, bowing once more. “Let me introduce myself as Sir Antoine Wincaester of Beautraud.”
Jax felt her face flush at the intensity of his stare, as though the man saw into her very soul. With a shifting look up at her grandfather, she noted his grim expression. He was not pleased with the attention being paid to her. “Welcome, Sir Antoine of House Wincaester. We honor you this evening.” Duke Mensina raised a glass, bringing the stunned room back to life. “Please, join us at the ducal table.”
Another chair appeared, this time at the far end of the table, next to Amia’s husband. It seemed her grandfather was determined to keep Sir Wincaester as far from her as possible. Jax smirked, knowing that the influx of guests seated to her grandfather’s left made the ducal table look lopsided and unsightly.
As the famed knight ascended the stairs to the high table, Jax watched the other guests cram and strain their necks to try to get a good look at the man. With the amount of drink being consumed in the room, she mused that Sir Wincaester would likely need to reintroduce himself in the morning, for everyone’s vision was no doubt a bit fuzzy by now.
Instead of heading directly to his seat, Sir Wincaester rounded her side of the table, stopping mere inches from the back of her chair. “I wanted to personally introduce myself to the fairest face in the room. It is the highest honor to be in your presence, Your Grace.”
She felt his breath on the exposed skin of her shoulder. Turning her head ever so slightly, her regal eyes met his hungry gaze. “You are too kind, Sir Knight.”
His eyes darkened with mischief, and he took her hand, kissing it ever so seductively.
Next to her, Duke Mensina grunted a fake cough, pulling the knight's attention to his host. “Thank you for your generous invitation to join you at the ducal table, Your Excellence,” Sir Wincaester said cordially, “I could not have dreamed of better company for the remainder of the evening.” With that, he sauntered off to the end of the table where he immediately engaged in lively conversation with her aunts and uncles.
Watching his muscular frame swagger away, Jax felt another flutter in her stomach. She smiled to herself as she turned her focus back to her desserts, feeling giddy from the obvious flirtation.
“Quite the suave man, is he not, Lord Pettraud?” Duke Mensina’s voice commented dryly.
“It would seem so,” Perry’s voice was emotionless, his expression cool as an embarrassed Jax met his disapproving gaze. What kind of spell had Sir Wincaester put on her to make her entirely forget her suitor a few feet away?
She felt Annette’s body shift closer, her whisper barely reaching Jax’s ears. “Be careful around that one, love. Men like that are always trouble.”
Chapter Four
Jax woke with a start the next morning, her dreams quickly fading into oblivion. Unsure of what spooked her out of unconsciousness, she surveyed the room with bleary eyes. Uma scampered around quietly in the corner, laying out a beautiful floral gown for Jax to wear during the first full day of the Feast of Champions. Uma, noticing her charge was awake, smiled politely and bowed her head. “Greetings, Your Grace. Your grandfather has requested your presence at breakfast as soon as possible.” Her pale cheeks flushed with embarrassment, clearly uncomfortable delivering a secondhand reprimand to her sovereign.
Rolling her eyes with a flourish, Jax lazily pulled herself out of bed. “Pay no heed to my grandfather’s threats, Uma. He does not control me, nor you, for that matter.” She yawned as she assessed her outfit for the day. “You truly are gifted with such style, my dear,” she praised her faithful maid, causing another round of blushing. With skillful hands, Uma tied the Duchess into the dress’ built-in corset, then fashioned her hair in a long, intricate plait, a silvery crown tucked into her shining tresses.
“You look lovely, Your Grace. I’m sure Sir Wincaester won’t be able to take his eyes off you.” Uma’s lips tightened ever so slightly in jest.
Whipping her head around meet her maid’s chocolatey gaze, Jax huffed. “What in the name of the virtues have you heard? Is there really gossip already floating around the castle?”
Uma bit her bottom lip, breaking their connection to stare off into the distance. “Well, it seems Lord Pettraud had some choice words about Sir Wincaester’s ‘charms’ when he retired to his room for the evening, or so his valet reports.”
“Good grief, is that so?” Jax gathered her skirts, feeling indignant. After the indifferent way Perry had regarded her yesterday afternoon, she was surprised to hear his jealousy come forward. She was in all but a binding contract with his father, Duke Pettraud, concerning their marriage. Why did he feel the need to complain about another’s flirtatious affections? She hardly batted an eye when women fawned over him, so why should he when the situation was reversed? “It appears Lord Pettraud must have let the wine and mead go to his head last night. He was clearly imagining things. Sir Wincaester merely paid his respects to me.”
Uma giggled unceremoniously. “I didn’t say anything about Lord Pettraud complaining about Sir Wincaester’s charms toward you, Jax.”
The use of her familiar nickname pulled a smile from the Duchess’s lips, knowing she’d been caught red-handed. “No, you didn’t, I suppose.” In times past, Uma would not have dared address Jax with such familiarity, but Jax was trying to break down the gap between servant and master to one of true friendship. “All right, this former Knight with No Face may have flirted a bit too much, but it was all in good fun.”
Opening the door to the private apartment, Uma gave Jax a meek look. “From what the valet said, it didn’t seem like Lord Pettraud took it all that lightly.”
“Thank you for the warning, dear one.” Jax gave her a squeeze. “I’ll sort it out over breakfast.”
Jax entered the banquet hall a few moments later, disappointed that Perry was nowhere to be seen. She still needed to speak with him about his stunt with the Pettraud tunic during the joust. He’d skillfully avoided conversation with her last night, so she was determined to sort out whatever was going on between them. She wasn’t used to being at odds with him.
Her grandfather sat with Adella and Amia, their husbands conversationally bantering on about the festival’s events. At her arrival, they all looked up and greeted her.
“Ah, Jacqueline, how did you sleep?” Duke Mensina asked with strange mirth in his eyes.
“Quite well, Grand-P
ère, thank you.” Jax sat down with hesitance, trying to assess the mood of the room.
Her grandfather took a sip of tea. “How about Lord Pettraud? Was his apartment suitable? His valet failed to make mention of it to my staff.”
So, there it was. Duke Mensina had obviously heard about Perry’s outburst over Sir Wincaester and was poking around to see what damage had been done. “A fine substitute for his suite back in Saphire,” she replied, her words dripping with sweet sarcasm, lost on everyone but her grandfather. She saw the triumph in his face, this round of their power play going to him.
The doors swung open behind her, and she turned, expecting Perry to enter. Her smile faded slightly when she laid eyes on Sir Wincaester. Sauntering over to the long table, he winked at her as he took a seat opposite her, looking incredibly well-rested after the night’s drinking. As he stared at her expectantly, she struggled to make conversation with the dashing young man. “What a surprise to see you here, Sir Wincaester,” she finally announced, “I would have thought you would be down at the festival grounds with the rest of the common folk.”
Chuckling, the knight brushed his glowing hair out of his face. “Please, Your Grace, I insist you call me Antoine. ‘Sir Wincaester’ makes me sound much more important than I really am.” He winked at her giggling aunts. “The Duke invited me to stay in the palace for the duration of the feast. I believe I am only a few suites down from you.” His eyes twinkled with flirtation.
Restraining herself from throwing a peevish look at her grandfather, Jax merely blotted her lips with a silk napkin, feigning disinterest in the knight’s attention. She could practically feel the heat of his gaze on her bare skin, a sensation that she both loathed and welcomed at the same time. She chided herself for these adolescent thoughts. What was coming over her? Was she so desperate for affection that she was succumbing to this rogue’s charms? Where was Perry? She closed her eyes, praying her rightful suitor would appear by her side.
A Feast Most Foul (Ducal Detective Mysteries Book 2) Page 3