The Death Dealer - The Complete Series

by Katie Roman

  A mousey woman with lank, blonde hair and unremarkable features tried to see to Katherine, but the duchess snubbed her, sweeping past the young woman. The woman's eyes narrowed, her lip curled, and Grace could have sworn she heard her hiss at Katherine's back.

  “Doesn't your mother want help from her maid?” Grace asked quietly as Victoria walked by her.

  Calvin's bride looked around quickly. “You know of my father's arrest?” Grace nodded. “Young Kara came to us as we left Actis to sail here; a new maid to replace the one taken from us, a maid sent by His Majesty. My mother is convinced Kara is a spy.” Victoria said the last part with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “The king is mad at my father, not my mother. Kara's appointment is nothing more than a show of good faith.”

  “I was sorry to hear about His Grace.”

  Victoria waved away Grace's concern. “His Majesty will not stay mad at my father for long. They are old friends, and eventually the king will see my father was only trying to feed the people of Actis, and my mother will see Kara is nothing more than a ladies' maid.”

  Grace looked at Kara again. She still scowled, but she moved along to walk behind the duchess. George and Calvin said the king wanted war, which meant Frederick would need to know who was on his side and who strayed. A maid could be a very useful spy, but that was none of Grace's concern. The troubles that befell Actis were not her own.

  Grace bowed as Victoria traipsed off to join the other ladies, and then helped Hoburn and the stable hands lead the horses back to the stables.

  Donald waited to take the horses when they walked them into the stables. “Are you taking up residence here?” Hoburn asked as he handed his horse over to Donald.

  “George offered me fair wages to help while I am in Arganis, and I am not so well off that I'd dare turn down good coin, Master Hoburn.” He held out his free hand for Pippin's reins.

  Grace shook her head. “I will see to him.”

  More men came to unsaddle the other horses. Hostlers who came with the prince and duchess saw to the five horses brought with the visitors. Grace led Pippin into his stall, removed his saddle, and hung it over his stall door before sliding his bridle off and patting his nose.

  Pippin allowed her to brush him down. He flicked his tail back and forth, but stood quietly otherwise. Donald came into the stall next to her, leading the mare Hoburn rode.

  “‘Brush that horse down until his coat shines like the sun on water’,” Donald remarked. His tone mimicked Grace's old employer, the cranky old Mayhew. He liked his stables as clean as his house.

  “‘See to it that mare is fed the finest oats, and we'll see that the trough is coated in gold’,” Grace picked up his joke. “Mayhew would be most displeased with John's handling of the stables.”

  “That's only because John cares for the horses, not the appearance of his stable.” Donald unsaddled Sally. “Mayhew was a good sort though, for all his complaining.”

  Grace continued to brush Pippin. She missed the work she did at the Angel tavern, but there was no use in lamenting it now.

  Over the stall wall, Donald shared jokes with the other men while she worked quietly. She thought of her nightmares. Rivers of blood or burning pines, the two choices the dream wolf put before her. She tried to forget the troubling images, but each time she pushed one disturbing thought aside, another took its place. Obviously Katherine was bent on pushing Grace into the open. She took Deidre out of her room without her nurse. Katherine and Deidre were long-time friends and rivals, and perhaps the duchess looked to discredit Deidre by showing everyone her madness. And of course the prince's visit to her morning practice weighed heavily on her.

  “Saddle Wilfred, boys. We knights are taking our own ride!” Grace looked over the stall door to see Calvin enter. Drake walked next to him, followed by Henry and Tristan.

  Grace made herself small, putting Pippin between her and the knights' view. She might have dared a greeting if Tristan hadn’t come in with the rest. She had yet to talk with her old friend Henry, but Drake acted cordial about her presence in Arganis, despite her exile. Tristan, though…there was no telling what his reaction would be.

  “Donald, saddle Lord Henry's gelding. That roan one,” John said. He pointed toward Henry's horse. “William, saddle the prince's stallion. Martin, take care of Sir Tristan's. Go on, boys, you're not paid to gawk at your betters.” The chief hostler barked his orders. “Sir Calvin, I trust you can handle your foul-tempered beast?”

  “As you like it, John,” said Calvin.

  Grace stayed where she was, looking over the back of Pippin as William went into the stall across from her to saddle a black and white stallion. She just kept brushing. Next to her, Donald left Sally to see to the roan of Henry's.

  “You!” a new voice shouted. Pippin's ears perked up and Grace felt a chill invade her senses. “Your Highness, this is the man who helped that witch of Arganis parade around as Sir Calvin!” Tristan went on. “Certainly you cannot allow him to come anywhere near our fine mounts! You – fool! – come here and submit to your just punishment.”

  Grace heard the unmistakable sound of steel being removed from its sheath and she peered out from her hiding place. Donald calmly stopped his progress to Henry's roan. Tristan stood ahead of the rest of their party now, sword in hand, eyes filled with murder.

  “Leave him alone, Tristan,” Henry said, his normally jovial voice hard. “He is doing an honest man's work now.”

  “He and his bitch of a mistress made a mockery of the tournament and Sir Calvin's trials to knighthood and I demand satisfaction! It is my right as a knight and the future Duke of Escion. Find the fiend a sword and let him defend himself.”

  “Sir Tristan, leave the man alone!” Drake seethed. “He has done nothing to you. The right to call for justice is Sir Calvin's, and he has not invoked it. Sheath your sword, man!”

  Still, Tristan stood in the center of the aisle, his sword raised in the start position. Donald stood with his feet a shoulder width apart, hands fisted at his sides. Grace growled softly, unsheathed her sword, and barreled through the stall door to stand next to Donald. Tristan's eyes widened and he gripped the sword hilt so tightly, his knuckles turned white.

  Grace held her sword up in the guard position and looked over at Donald. He nodded and looked back to Tristan. “I accept your challenge, and I choose Grace to fight in my stead.”

  Calvin put himself between Grace and Tristan. “What poison is in the water that has driven you both mad?” When he turned to look at Grace, she saw that the same fury that burned in his eyes in the cottage had returned.

  “I mean only to protect my friend, Sir Calvin.” Grace put her sword down to her side, but she didn't return it to its scabbard.

  “Put your swords away,” Calvin snapped, and turned his fury to Tristan. “Indiscretions of the past are gone. My cousin is my blood, and I will fight you myself if you draw your blade on her or her friend again.”

  Drake came up behind Tristan and put his hand on his shoulder. “We are wasting this fine day with your silly calls to defend honor. I command you to sheath your weapon, Sir Tristan.”

  Tristan frowned, but did what was commanded of him by his prince. When his hand left the hilt of his weapon, Grace sheathed her own. She looked beyond her cousin to Sir Tristan, whose eyes were full of hate. He turned on his heel and stomped out of the stables.

  Drake moved closer to Grace and Donald with knitted brows. “Are you alright?”

  Grace shook out her arms and cracked her knuckles. “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “Master Hostler?” Drake said, turning to John. Grace realized too late that the chief hostler had stood mutely by, watching the spectacle unfold, open-mouthed. “Master Hostler!” Drake repeated. “Please saddle the horses. We will go for a ride without Sir Tristan.”

  Grace went to the stall with Drake's stallion. “Allow me,” she asserted, and set to work saddling the horse for the knights' ride.

  Nine

&nbs
p; Grace and Henry sat in George’s study together after the knights’ ride, enjoying a quiet game of chess. Tristan refused to join in any merriment where Grace would be present.

  “Your cousin has quite a bruise,” Henry remarked. He didn’t look up from the board as he spoke.

  Grace watched him carefully. Did he suspect her? Should she come clean and confess to her friend?

  “How did he come by something like that just days before his wedding?” Henry asked, looking up to meet her eyes after he found the perfect spot for his queen.

  “We exchanged angry words, followed by angry blows, or at least on my part.” Grace broke eye contact to examine the board for her next move. Her face burned with shame.

  “You? What could he have done to anger you so?”

  Grace picked up a knight and twirled it around in her fingers. “He told me I nearly ruined the family and then he hit Donald for helping me. So I hit him back.”

  “That is unbecoming behavior of a knight and a lady.” His voice was stern, though not angry.

  Grace laughed and looked up to see Henry with a raised eyebrow. She shook her head and smiled. “I am hardly a lady,” she commented dryly.

  “Perhaps not in the sense you were before, but you are still responsible for your actions. It is important to think before you act.”

  She wanted an open talk with him, not a lecture. “I erred in my judgment,” she said, cutting him off. “And it shows that I am not the same girl you met at the tournament.”

  It was Henry’s turn to laugh. “Of course you are not! You have not been forced to live the sheltered life of a high born lady. If you had come from Glenbard unchanged, I would have been more surprised to hear that you boxed your cousin. All I am asking is that you just remember to think before coming to blows. It is a lesson I am sure even the King of Thieves would teach you.” Henry reached across the board to take Grace’s hand. He squeezed it gently and his warmth flooded Grace.

  With her free hand, she moved her queen toward his king. “Check.”

  “Ha! Clever girl.”

  They continued their game until Henry bested her. They talked of many things; Jack, the Thieves’ Guild, her life as a guard, the goings-on at court.

  Grace cleared her throat as Henry finished telling her how the king’s favored knight, Benjamin of Salatia, won the joust in that summer’s tournament yet again.

  “Has Her Grace said anything about my mother since arriving?” Grace asked. In all the court gossip Henry divulged, he said nothing of Deidre’s illness or of the arrest of Katherine’s husband.

  Henry paused and tapped his lip with a chubby finger. “I do not recall. On the journey north, she talked of your mother excitedly. She was looking forward to seeing her old friend and rival. Has that shrew done something to your mother?” Henry’s eyes narrowed.

  Upon their first meeting, Henry warned Grace about Katherine. He told her the duchess was a vicious gossip, which was true, but Grace soon learned he was one, too. However, Grace had already been insulted and was the subject of Katherine’s ire by the time she learned of Henry’s own loose lips. She tended to believe the stories told to her by Henry more than anything Katherine had to say.

  But she didn’t want Henry to say something to or about Katherine, not when she had been so good to Deidre. “No, no. She has been quite attentive towards my mother. I just worried, with all you’ve said, that she may be cruel.”

  “No, she has done and said nothing. Though,” Henry paused and sat a little straighter. He fidgeted with a gold chain he wore and twirled his house ring around his finger. “Your mother, she is not quite right these days…?”

  “Did one of Victoria’s ladies say anything?” She didn’t think they knew anything, but there was no telling. If Gretchen or Juliet dared to utter a word about Deidre, Grace would take it straight to Katherine. The duchess could cut them down and berate them where Grace could not.

  “No, no one has said a word against Lady Deidre, but she seems different, distant; not the warm, lively woman I knew in my youth. I notice your uncles shirk certain topics in her presence, especially those relating to your father.”

  “My mother is not well, but we do what we can to ease her mind. Her nurse says there is not much else we can do. I worried Katherine would turn my mother into some sort of gossip-worthy spectacle.”

  Henry shook his head. “Not with her husband doing hard labor on Nareroc, but we will not speak more on that.” With that, the conversation on Deidre and the Duke of Actis was closed.

  When the dinner bell rang, Grace bid Henry farewell and headed for the servant’s stair. As she opened the door, she found a great black wolf standing on the landing. In a blur, it growled and launched itself at Grace, causing her to stumble backwards. She landed hard on her backside, closed her eyes, and covered her face protectively with her arms.

  As she swatted her hands wildly at the air without making contact with fur, she opened her eyes to find herself alone in the hall. The stairwell was empty. She dragged herself up and dusted off her backside. Even in waking, her dreams still managed to find her.

  ~*~*~

  Grace climbed the stairs to her mother's rooms. Leandra didn't have to come and escort her this time, as Master Broyles finally put her on the approved list and none of the maids or footmen would dare argue that exalted list. Grace swiftly moved along down the hall. Most of the guests were downstairs in the main hall, but Deidre always shuffled off to bed after dinner.

  Grace paused outside of her mother's door when she heard a high and beautiful voice singing with Deidre's. Grace pushed the door open to find Katherine kneeling in front of her mother. Leandra continued to knit in the corner, swaying to the rhythm of the song.

  Katherine stopped her singing to regard Grace warily. “Your Grace, I didn't mean to disturb you. I thought you were enjoying the post dinner games. I planned to play chess with my mother.”

  “You will find me here most nights, sitting with Lady Deidre. So please, stop offending my eye sight with the sack you wear that you call a uniform. Wear a dress tomorrow.”

  “Would Your Grace like me to change now, into something frilly perhaps? It would be no trouble.” Grace made sure her voice was laced with sarcasm.

  “No, stay – you’re already here. And have a care for your tone, you impudent wench. Your mother says she likes ‘The Lay of the Waves’. Can you teach it to me?” Katherine asked as Grace settled into the rocking chair next to Deidre.

  Grace took up the first lines, and then Deidre joined her. After the first stanza, she stopped and spoke the words for Katherine's benefit. Then all three women attempted to sing. Katherine stumbled, but continued as though nothing happened.

  After a while there was a knock at the door. Kara stood there, dressed in a gray woolen dress with her blonde hair falling in strands around her face. “Your Grace, I came to see if you were ready for bed.”

  “Kara, dear,” Katherine replied in her sweetest tone; one Grace heard years ago at the tournament. Katherine used the tone to instill confidence while she ripped people down. “Grace has offered to dress me down for bed this evening. You may go to the servants' quarters and go to sleep. I will ring for you in the morning.”

  Grace noted Kara's little eyes narrow, but she curtsied and took her dismissal in silence. Katherine watched her go. “Grace, I am ready for bed. If you please.”

  Grace followed Katherine from her mother's room after kissing her mother's cheek and thanking Leandra. The guest quarters were a short walk from the family's rooms. Katherine and Grace descended the main stairs a floor down, where the hall was lit by a few torches. None of the guest doors were open, though Grace saw faint lights underneath most of them.

  Katherine led Grace to a room at the end of the hall. She opened the door and saw that a fire burned in the fireplace. Like the rooms upstairs, there was a small sitting room and a smaller room set off with a bed in it. The decorations were sparse, but the room felt cozy. It was an odd description to c
haracterize any space Katherine occupied.

  Katherine grabbed a torch from the wall and brought it into the bedchamber, affixing it to a holder beside the door. Grace hung back, keeping herself in the center of the sitting room. Curiosity got the better of her, though, and she peeked into the bedroom. The duchess had a beautiful wooden chest with hand-carved markings of lilies along the sides. The duchess also had the banner of Actis hanging over the bed, with the golden boar’s head neatly embroidered against a purple background.

  Katherine turned around and caught Grace staring at her fine things. Grace looked away and fixed her eyes on the fire.

  “I made that for my husband when we were wed,” Katherine said by way of explanation. Grace looked up at the banner again.

  The duchess must have had a way with thread. She had even sewn a little green gem in place to serve as an eye. The thread swirled here and there, making a border around the boar. When removed from the rest it might look like a spattering of nonsensical lines that swirled around, but when it was brought together it framed the symbol of Actis nicely. The boar’s head was breathtaking, and the longer Grace stared at it, the more she came to appreciate it. She wondered if she’d be able to find any flaws in the stitching.

  “I was never any good with needle and thread,” said Grace. She looked away from the banner again and found that Katherine was watching her intently. The stoic mask of the duchess fell away, and now she merely looked worn.

  “It took me many years to work with thread like this. Even this is not my finest work.” The duchess rubbed her temples with her index fingers. “I tire.”

  “Your Grace, I am not trained to be a lady’s maid. I am unsuited to help you change for bed.”

  Katherine started a moment and then shook her head. “I am quite capable of changing into my nightdress. I merely wanted to give that Kara girl the slip.”

  “Lady Victoria did mention something about your difficult relationship with your new maid.”