The Death Dealer - The Complete Series

by Katie Roman

  “It is a vulgar name for someone who has not yet killed, to our knowledge. But I believe he is doing a service by helping rid our fair kingdom of some of those who live only to harm others.” Grace paused as all eyes remained fixed on her. “Arganis and her port have long been subjected to thieves, murderers and pirates. It is past time our villagers felt some sort of safety. After all, the guards at the Arganis castle do not have the resources to protect every cabin in the north lands. He may violate King Frederick’s rule, but our king has not the resources to protect every person who lives in Cesernan.” Grace was an Arganis native, and that alone caused everyone who listened to nod in agreement. Even Katherine seemed to accept this argument.

  “I agree,” Henry piped up, taking a break from his food. He gave Grace a quick smile before continuing. “This Death Dealer may be going over the king’s authority, but he is protecting the common folk, and what is a kingdom without its common folk? Our valiant peasants work the land so we might eat at feasts such as this.” He raised his wine glass. “A toast is deserved to those hardworking vassals and to The Death Dealer who is willing to protect them.” Others in earshot raised their glasses in agreement with Henry.

  Grace looked at Sir Henry and smiled. If nothing else good came out of this trip, at least she found a friend at court.

  ~*~*~

  Out of earshot of Grace’s seat, Tristan Mullery wished he was closer to the Duchess Katherine of Actis. Then he would at least have the chance to get a better look at the young woman who came from the Barony of Arganis. If rumors were true, she was Calvin’s cousin and the only child of Lord Daniel. This was the first time Tristan had seen her. She spent much of her time locked away in her chambers, and was late coming to join everyone else for the feast. He would have to ask Katherine to introduce them, although from the looks of it, Katherine was not fond of the young woman. Then again, Katherine was never overly fond of young, pretty women who came to court.

  Tristan leaned over and whispered to Prince Drake, “The girl from Arganis…is she Lord Daniel’s only child?”

  Drake nodded. “A reserved thing, isn’t she? I have hardly seen her speak to anyone but Calvin and Henry since she came down from her chambers, but there is something about her.” Drake paused and looked Grace over. Her face was turned away and she seemed completely immersed in a conversation with Henry.

  “I saw her first.” Tristan gave Drake a light punch on the arm.

  “You did not! I saw her when she first arrived, and I’m your prince. Do you really want to anger your future king over a woman?”

  “Perhaps over that woman.” Tristan and Drake both looked directly at Grace. As though she sensed eyes upon her, she looked up and met their wandering eyes. A shiver ran down Tristan’s spine. A woman had never held his gaze for so long without looking away or blushing. This one just stared back with a great intensity in her gray eyes. It seemed unnatural for a woman to stare so. She was not embarrassed as propriety said she should be.

  ~*~*~

  It bothered Grace to have people stare at her, so in order to deter the stares of people, she was prone to locking gazes until her adversaries looked away. This usually caused discomfort, because no one expected a lady to go without blushing or giggling. Currently the Prince and another knight were looking upon her quite intently. Grace kept her gray eyes fixed on them and stared them down. It worked. The Prince and the other young man both looked away from her piercing stare. Had their code of chivalry and manners failed to list ‘staring’ on its pages? She sighed and turned her attention to Henry once more.

  “Trying to scare off the lads, are you?” Henry was finishing up the last of his dessert, and as he spoke, a bit of pie dribbled down his chin and into his beard. He laughed a bit and wiped it off.

  “Trying to stop their staring.”

  “Let sleeping dogs lie, I always say. If they want to stare, let them. Might show Katherine a thing or two if Tristan of Escion and His Highness Prince Drake are after you. For one thing, she might not think you are plain anymore.”

  Grace nodded. She was far from plain, but no one here really knew that. As far as anyone was concerned she was only the late Lord Daniel and Lady Dedre’s reserved daughter, who did not share her mother’s enchanting looks and had her father’s piercing eyes. The less everyone knew, the better.

  The guests began to follow the King and Queen into the great hall for some after dinner dancing. Grace pushed herself away from the table and curtsied to Henry. It seemed only appropriate, since he was the only one who seemed to see her as a friend and not a plague.

  “It was a pleasure to speak to you this evening and hopefully I will have the opportunity again, but for now I am exhausted and am going to retire to my room.”

  Henry rose from his seat and took Grace’s hand; lightly kissing it. “Do not fret about the ladies of this court, young one. It will improve for you, I promise. Show them what a fine lady you are! Join me in a few dances and then you may head to bed.”

  “I do not know—”

  “It will only be worse for you if you decide not to come to the ball. The rumors will spread quickly that you are a northern barbarian who cannot dance. Your cousin’s good reputation won’t even be able to save you.”

  Henry held out his arm. Grace made a face and crinkled her nose, but in the end she took the offered arm. Henry led Grace into the great hall where couples had already begun to pair off. Even Calvin found a young noblewoman to dance with. Henry faced Grace and took her hands gently.

  “You are not actually a northern barbarian, are you? You do know the dances, I assume?”

  “Of course.” Grace had been raised like any proper noble girl. She knew the manners for court: how to curtsy, the many different dances, and how to conduct herself in the presence of young men. The only thing her training had not prepared her for was how to handle gossip circles.

  The first dance was a quick one. Henry smiled down at Grace and gave her hand a squeeze. “So the rumors that those in Arganis are less than civilized are untrue. You dance as well as any woman here. Perhaps better.”

  “Your compliments are unnecessary, Henry. I learned how to conduct myself in court a long time ago, just like all the other women here.”

  “Must be the breeding you have from your mother. She was the most fashionable woman at court before her marriage and your birth. And even after, up until your father’s death, she was a paragon of courtly charm.” He winked down at her.

  The next dance kicked into motion. Henry was ready to lead Grace once more, but Prince Drake cut in. “My Lord Henry, might I have the honor of leading this young lady in a dance?”

  “I could not possibly refuse my prince.” Henry placed Grace’s hand in Drake’s and strode from the floor to join the crowd of onlookers. Grace felt abandoned. Henry left her in the care of the Prince! There was little he could have done that would have been worse for her.

  Grace panicked inwardly, though outwardly she kept her demeanor cool. The Prince was dancing with her, and that meant that all those not dancing would be watching with a critical eye. She knew for a fact Katherine was not dancing, and she would be watching closest of all.

  “There is no need to be nervous, milady,” Drake said; smiling down at Grace.

  “Who said I was nervous?”

  “Your sweaty palms speak for themselves. But worry not; those in court will not speak in their circles if you falter. Not when the Prince is involved, at least. They’ll do it behind closed doors so as not to impart my wrath upon them.” He was lying, but she liked him for that. Drake smiled and led Grace around the dance floor. They would talk twice as much, closed doors or no, but she appreciated his effort to ease her nerves.

  Grace pushed the fear of faltering from her mind. She concentrated solely on the dance steps, because no amount of good graces would save her from gossip, especially if she fell or stepped on Drake’s toes.

  Drake led her around the ballroom through another song. This one slowed and
the Prince slowed with it. Grace felt strange having his hand rest on her waist, and if she continued to dance after this, she knew full well she would falter. After the second dance, Grace decided it was time to turn in for the night. The house banners, the many colored dresses, the talking, the laughing, the closeness to the Prince – it was all too much for Grace to take in. She thanked Drake for the dance and turned to excuse herself from the festivities.

  Her exit was apparently not something some of the other knights wished to see. Upon seeing her break from their prince, three swarmed around her. One was the young knight who had been seated next to the Prince; the one who watched her so intently. Looking at him more closely, Grace felt her face getting red. He was the most handsome and dashing man she had ever laid eyes on. The men of the Hilren line were notorious for being short, stocky folk. Calvin had the misfortune of being only an inch taller than Grace and several inches shorter than most men his age. The same was true of her uncles. But this man was tall and muscular, with wavy brown hair tied back from his face. He was beardless and had brown eyes reminiscent of a big, playful dog Grace played with in Arganis. His nose was small and perfect; clearly his hadn’t been broken like her cousin’s had. He looked to be in his early twenties.

  The other two knights were not nearly as handsome as this one. They bore scars and the signs of broken noses. The oldest-looking one was probably closer to his early or mid-thirties, with auburn hair and pale skin. The other was closer to the first knight’s age, with dark skin and thick, black hair cropped short. His face was marked by pink and white scars, but his black eyes were happy.

  “My lady,” the handsome knight who had sat with Drake said. “You don’t mean to leave us, do you? Not when so many knights wish to lead you in a dance. Please, favor us with your name, lady.”

  Grace assumed, and correctly so, that these three already knew her name from the rumors she knew were flying around the room. Still, it would be bad form on her part not to honor their request. “I am Grace Hilren from the Barony Arganis to the north. And who are the fine knights who stand before me?”

  “I am Sir Tristan of Escion,” the first one said. “This,” he signaled to the oldest of the three, “is Sir Benjamin of Salatia, and this rough-looking man is Sir Edmund of the fief Pirate’s Bay.”

  “That pendant you wear...” Grace cast her eyes to the opal pendant engulfed by silver flames that Edmund wore about his neck. “Are you by chance from the spice islands, originally? I have heard the opal was a cherished stone among the Nareroc natives.”

  Edmund was the first to take Grace’s hand and kiss it. He seemed pleased she could accurately place the stone he wore. “Before conquerors from the northern countries set foot on Cesernan, it was covered in dark-skinned folk like myself.” His eyes were filled with mirth. “That was centuries ago, and my father is just as fair-skinned as everyone else, but my mother is from the Nareroc Islands, as you guessed. And the opal is of course the most prized jewel there. It is supposed to bring good fortune. Unfortunately, all the mines that once operated have been tapped of their opal resources.” The spice islands off the southeastern coast of Cesernan were famous for their warm jungle climates, spices, crystal clear waters, and dark-skinned natives. Grace was familiar with the histories, but had never met a Nareroc descendant. Most were under the impression that Arganis was a frosty wasteland, and they decided to stay in warmer areas.

  She wanted to hear more, but knew it was rude not to acknowledge the others. “And Sir Benjamin of Salatia?” When she offered her hand to him, he took it gladly and kissed it. “I have heard of you. The man who tilts as though he was born upon a horse with a lance in hand. Your exploits with the sword are also legendary, if I remember correctly.”

  “Aye, that be true.” Benjamin talked with a country twang Grace heard some of the peasants around Arganis use. He was not so wealthy a knight as Edmund or Tristan, it appeared. It was possible he was from a house that worked itself up from yeoman and into a king’s favor. Finally, she turned and offered her hand to Tristan. “And Sir Tristan of Escion.” She recalled some scandal from Escion. It happened just before the final tournament her father competed in, but she could not bring forth any memories about it. All she remembered were hushed tones between her father and her uncles. Her brow creased as she tried to remember what happened, but all she could recall was some form of family disgrace.

  Tristan misread her expression and stated, “I realize I am not as renowned as Sir Benjamin or as exotic as Sir Edmund, but I do come from the Mullery line, which is Queen Bethany’s own line. Certainly that should impress you some.” He laughed and offered his arm. “Allow me to escort you through the King’s gardens.” The other two knights scowled at him. They didn’t like that he asked before they did. Had they not been so polite, waiting for all introductions to be made, then they could have been leading Grace through the gardens instead.

  Grace wanted nothing more than to head into her room and get some rest before her own nightly activities began. However, she didn’t want to be rude and disgrace her cousin’s name by refusing a relation to the queen. She took the offered arm and Tristan led her into the King’s garden. As she moved away from Benjamin and Edmund, she smiled at them. They both returned the smile to show they had no hard feelings toward her, though they scowled at Tristan’s back.

  Outside, other couples made use of the quiet garden to make declarations of undying love, while others were engaged in less appropriate behaviors in the shadows. Grace often wondered what such things would be like, but in Arganis men saw her as a feisty youth and not as a court-able young woman. That suited her fine most days, but her Uncle George felt that at seventeen, she should already have had several marriage proposals. That’s why he insisted, as did Uncle Leon, that she needed to go to the tournament. They hoped she’d be snatched up by a worthy noble family and a marriage proposal would follow sometime in the summer months. Grace did not like this prospect, and shivered to think of herself as a wife in the next year.

  Again, Tristan misread the signals her body sent and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “I would think a northern lady such as yourself would not find Ursana cold, especially since summer is on our doorstep.”

  She looked up into Tristan’s face. He had a gift for misunderstanding her. Still, she smiled at him. As a man, he couldn’t understand how she felt. Old men could marry, but not old women. Men only knew the pressure of finding a fertile wife or risking the end of their blood line. Grace would have been happy to not bear children to a man for the sake of a name. These thoughts ran unbidden across the fields of her mind as she walked through the garden, while Tristan talked on and on about his exploits; unaware his walking partner wasn’t absorbing even a single word.

  “I heard a nasty rumor you were planning to leave after the tournament ends.” Grace escaped her mental fields to return to the palace’s garden path. “Did no one tell of the wonderful festivals King Frederick holds here in the summer? The tournament is not the only attraction. Dancers, feasts, the market where sellers from across the country set up stalls. The city and the palace become alive. Besides, many young women find husbands during these times.”

  “I have heard of these things, and my uncles like to remind me that I am older than a fair number of married girls. They also warned me engagements can be very short during the tournament season if the families feel it is a fruitful match.” She stressed the word “warned.” In truth, Leon hadn’t so much warned her as he insisted she project herself in such a way as to ensure a proposal by summer’s end. She once heard him speaking to George that if she did not get an offer by eighteen, they may as well send her to the Temple of Kamaria to become a priestess. That was the fate of many unwed women.

  “Aye, that is how my father and mother came to be married. They came together from an instant and mutual attraction. It happens often during the tournament season.” Grace was all too aware of Tristan moving closer as he spoke. He also stopped their walk. “I believe I c
an understand such a thing; can you?”

  Grace attempted to step away from Tristan’s grasp, but he held her close. “I should be going,” she whispered.

  Tristan turned her so she was completely facing him. He stood a full head taller than she and he had her by the shoulders, holding fast, with a playful smile on his lips. Suddenly, he pulled her into a kiss.

  Grace had sneaked into the stables before and stolen kisses from the young men who tended the horses in Arganis, but they were just simple pecks, not totally encompassing kisses like the one she now found herself in. Moments passed; too swiftly and yet too slowly at the same time. She broke away finally, feeling dazed at Tristan’s bluntness. Her cheeks were deep crimson and she felt them getting hot. He was handsome, but such kisses didn’t belong to a stranger like him. Her cheeks started to flush from anger and embarrassment. She liked this man well enough, however this was not something she was used to.

  “You are a bashful maiden, aren’t you?” Tristan held out his arm again for her. “I will escort you to your room, my lady.”

  ~*~*~

  Tristan stole several more kisses as he walked her back, and Grace didn’t know how to tactfully stop him. Her attempts to pull away were misinterpreted as bashful maiden behavior. However, the more kisses he gave to her, the more she wanted them. Still, she felt quite lucky to see Cassandra waiting outside her chambers for her. Her hard stare stopped Tristan from trying any more.

  Once Grace was shuffled into her chambers, Cassandra sat her on the bed. “He’s quite a handsome young man.”

  Cassandra wanted information. Her angry stare was only a show so she could get rid of Tristan faster. Now with the door closed, she was excited to see what Grace had to say.