The Death Dealer - The Complete Series

by Katie Roman

  “We had a disagreement over the appointment of Jack, Your Highness.”

  “Jack? So you know Sir Jonathan? Master John,” Drake said, signaling to the hostler. “Can I beg some privacy in your stables?”

  John bowed and left the two alone with the horses, and Drake led Grace to the empty stall with the trapdoor, which was filled with barrels and extra tack. Drake sat her on one of the barrels and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “That was some fine brawling.”

  “I learned a lot of it in Glenbard. I gave Calvin his black eye.” She drew in a deep breath, her ribs aching from the effort. Now that the adrenaline had run its course, she felt tired. She only came to the stables to brush Pippin because it was easy and wouldn’t put a strain on her, but here she was, adding to her injuries.

  Drake chuckled. “That was fine work, Grace. Now, if you please, the scuffle between you and Tristan?”

  Grace scrunched up her face. “I did not like what he said about his brother. Jack and I are friends.”

  “Just friends?”

  Heat flared in Grace's cheeks. Despite the chill she had from her wet clothes, she felt warm with embarrassment. It was one thing for the people in Glenbard to know of her relationship with Jack, but it was quite another for the nobility to know. A romantic relationship between two disgraced nobles? There would be no end to the gossip.

  “Friends, Your Highness, and it hurts me to hear such venom spewed about him, especially from his brother.”

  “Tristan loved his brother. I am sure you know of his past?”

  “I know what he was accused of, yes. Henry told me and Jack did not deny it.”

  “I see,” Drake said and nodded. “Well, as I said, Tristan loved Jack. He respected him. When Jack stood accused of hurting Lady Danielle, it was not the accusation that hurt Tristan. Jack didn't love Danielle, he loved her maid. That Jack would throw his life away for a mere maid angered Tristan. It angered their father too, and even if Jack had stood up for himself, he still planned to run away with the girl.”

  Grace's heart stopped and her voice choked when she spoke, “He never told me that.”

  Drake wiped a tear away from her cheek. “The maid is gone, so do not trouble your heart about her. But please understand, to Tristan, Jack is a black mark on the Mullery line. Stay away from him for a while. He can't abide by those who hurt his pride. I'll go see to him and smooth his wounded manhood.”

  Drake stood and Grace handed him his coat back. The prince patted Grace on the shoulder and left her alone. Despite the cold, she got up and went outside, striking out for the road to the village.

  Each step she took felt like lead weighed her feet down, but when she passed through the gate of the castle, she began to run. The chill that stung through her wet dress didn't bother her. Her side ached, but she pushed through. Even knowledge of Jack's former lover didn't bother her. It was only herself that kept getting in her way.

  Since leaving Glenbard, Grace had become more irritable. She felt listless, sometimes lost. She had an idea of why this was, but she never dared to say it aloud. She ran into the village, noting that it was near the midday meal. Hoburn ate his meals at the castle, but Cassandra always went home. Her friend said she liked the peace of a quiet house at midday.

  Grace ran up to the door of the thatch roofed cottage Cassandra and Hoburn occupied. She didn't bother to knock, but let herself in. The cottage had two rooms, the bedroom and the kitchen, with a latrine out back. The door opened into the kitchen, where Grace saw Cassandra taking a kettle off the hearth. At the table sat Donald, and Grace smiled to see him there. It seemed fitting that the two who had long bore her secrets would be together now.

  “Gods preserve us!” Cassandra exclaimed. “You are drenched. Let me find you a dry dress before you catch a chill.” The woman put the kettle on the table and started to move into the bedroom.

  “Not yet, Cassandra. Years ago you made several hoods for me. Hoods I could wear after dark.”

  Donald and Cassandra exchanged a meaningful look. Cassandra's eyebrows went up, while Donald merely smirked. Both turned back to Grace.

  “I did...” Cassandra answered tentatively.

  “Do you have any left?”

  “I might could find them. What is this all about?”

  “I have some plans for this evening and I require them.”

  Eleven

  Jack took to his new role with relish. It surprised even him that he was prepared to spend his days listening to citizens’ grievances, sign warrants for the guards, and debate everyday matters with the other four who served with him. He could have done without his father standing by watching his every move, though.

  He also didn’t like the chief magistrate, Lord Gregory, who was obviously a bought man. He never made a decision without first whispering it over with Robert of Escion, who served as the king’s mouthpiece while he was away. And whatever Gregory did, his patsy Lord Vincent did.

  Lord Marvin and Lord Philip always voted against them, which led Jack to believe that the king never bothered to approach either one in order to buy their votes. They looked at Jack as though he was a roach that needed to be squished. They knew where he stood, and he was uncomfortable not knowing where they stood. All of the magistrates were aware that Robert lurked around Glenbard because he planned to request the city’s cooperation with his soldiers. Marvin and Philip turned their noses up at the duke, and glared at Jack simply for being his son.

  Still, Jack happily served the city. He was given an allowance to pay for food and his servants. Since he kept no servants, he handed all his coin to Ridley, who used it to buy extra food for those on the Lane in need.

  Jack sat in his library with Ridley as the noon bell rang, looking over some documents Lord Marvin of Queen's Cove had sent to him. Most dealt with how to handle new city taxes, but a few were about the bad harvest and how to fairly distribute the grain and oil from the emergency stores. All were going to be brought up soon at the monthly council meeting, as well as Robert’s request to quarter his soldiers.

  Ridley sat across from Jack, bored out of her mind. Her fingers were healing well enough, but Marcus and Jack both felt she was safer under constant supervision. Her opinion differed slightly, but her protestations were largely ignored. So her time was spent with Jack during the day and Marcus at night.

  “Could we at least go for a stroll outside?” The day dawned bright and beautiful. The fall had proven to be wet and cold so far and a warm, sunny day lifted everyone’s spirits.

  Jack looked up from his documents. “I suppose so.”

  “I feel like a silly little child, having to ask permission to play outside.”

  “Would you rather Gillam break your fingers again? Because I can ring for him straight away.”

  Ridley huffed. “I don’t know what danger I would even be in anymore.”

  “Neither do I, but these are dangerous times and you are connected to me. So let’s go through the gardens before I change my mind.”

  The two had freedom to move about the castle grounds, but Jack was restricted to stay inside its walls. If he desired or needed to leave for any reason, Gillam was to accompany him. Jack had no qualms with his father’s manservant. Gillam was big and dumb and loyal to whomever fed him, but Ridley steadfastly refused to go anywhere with him and Jack didn’t blame her. Her fingers were a blue, purple, and black mess thanks to Gillam. Still, he would have liked to get his own food in the market once in a while.

  The garden was pristine. Trees were pruned, the grass was trimmed, and there was a certain reverence for the spot where Brayden fell. Jack and Ridley steered clear and walked on the other side of the garden with her arm looped through his. Ridley liked to pretend at being a fine lady, her dirty dress aside, and Jack obliged.

  “Any word on Thom?” Jack asked as they walked by two of the castle guards. The guards dipped their heads to Jack and said nothing.

  “No.”

  “Marcus was a fool
to send him away. Hungry winters are never a good time in cities. There is a lot of unrest.”

  “And Thom is going by land. He probably would have made it to Arganis by ship already, but he fears the sea. I think his father died in a shipwreck off the coast.”

  “So he wastes time, when he of all people should know better. All because Marcus doesn’t trust Grace.”

  Ridley didn’t say anything in response, but after a few minutes passed without an exchange, she spoke again. “I have been talking at length with Captain Moore.” Jack raised an eyebrow at her. “It is now my job to deliver the bribes when one of the Guild is caught by his men. He told me the Guild coin goes to buying food and clothes for widows and their children, who are in for a hard winter. He never thinks maybe we could be using the silver to buy for our own. I suppose it doesn’t matter to him.”

  “Mmmm,” Jack mused. “In our council meeting, Lord Philip plans to petition the king for an open trade channel with our so-called ‘enemies.’ I think he’s a fool for even trying, and as such he runs the risk of being labeled a traitor.”

  “For wanting to bring in good grain from those who had a bountiful year? How is it treason to want to feed the people of your country?” Ridley’s temper flared.

  Jack remembered when she was still a silly girl who bragged secrets she knew and danced with any young buck who asked. He didn’t like how hardened she’d become recently. He had always been hard on her because of her naivety, but he missed it now. He missed her easy laugh and sassy mouth.

  “It is treason to look at the king cross-eyed if he says so. The fact of the matter is that he means to make war with Sera, and taking food from them in our hour of need would mean showing our weakness. I don’t think he is even convinced that there are any problems. I can see my ribs clearly through my skin, but Cesernan is not going hungry, he claims.” He rolled his eyes.

  One of the guards cleared his throat. Jack looked at him and received a solid glare.

  “Are you not concerned that your words could be construed as treason?” Ridley asked, eyeing the guard as well.

  Jack shrugged. “I am a loyal servant, but a confused servant,” he said to the guard. “And I have been at the wine again.” The guard huffed and looked away.

  Ridley frowned but kept quiet. They continued to walk around the castle, although they never made a full circle. Ridley would stop them short of Brayden’s death spot and walk them back around. They stayed out until the sun began to sink beyond the horizon.

  Jack took Ridley to the front gate where Marcus waited with three of his thieves, and Jack bid them all farewell. He returned to his work, lighting the candles in his library and continuing to read the documents.

  His peace and solitude was soon interrupted by Robert. His father looked like an angry bear with a thorn in his paw. If Jack could warrant a guess, he’d say he was the thorn. The duke burst into the library and kicked over the chair Ridley sat in when she was with Jack.

  “If you wanted my attention, Father, you have certainly succeeded in getting it. May I help you?”

  “Do not play innocent with me! The guards heard you spreading lies about the king; that he feasts while his people starve; that he is a blood thirsty fool!” Robert roared.

  “I said no such things. I said he meant to make war and didn’t acknowledge the hunger that is sweeping through his country.”

  “How is that any better?” His father narrowed his eyes; for all the world looking like he had just sucked on a lemon.

  “What the guards told you is a lie about His Majesty. I don’t think he sits gorging himself, and I don’t think he is blood thirsty. I think he means to make war and is so single-minded he is ignoring a serious problem. My opinion stands, and you can kick over as many damn chairs as you like about it.”

  “Do you realize how dangerous that talk is?”

  “Of course, and I also know if I vocalized everything I was thinking, my head would be on the chopping block. You robbed me of my freedom and shackled me to a title I don’t really want, but I will keep some of my opinions, thank you very much.”

  Robert looked as if he was considering his son’s words. It was rare to see the duke think about anything that didn’t involve obeying his king, cheating on his wife, or breeding his hounds. Jack ducked his head down to hide his smile as his father’s head crinkled in thought.

  “I will refrain from telling His Majesty of your loose tongue, but I warn you, I will not let it pass again. Next time you speak ill of him, I will send a messenger hawk to him straight away. He is conducting business near Arganis. Perhaps I will suggest he stop and pay Miss Hilren a visit.”

  Jack’s smirk faded and his head snapped up to see a happy malice playing in his father’s eyes. “Ah, yes, there is something that will keep you civil. Do as you are told like a good little boy, and once you have voted in my favor, you can run north and be with your little witch. Don’t think you are fooling me into thinking that thief is your lover. I know you have been writing to Grace Hilren for months.”

  “Grace is not a player in your game of power!”

  “No, but unlike your thief friends, Grace will not see an attack coming. She provides some leverage over you, and with your tongue wagging as it is, a little bit of leverage never hurts.”

  Jack tapped his fingers on his desk. He should have known his father was watching him even before he revealed himself. Jack and Grace never hid their love for each other, and until now Jack didn’t see any reason to. However, he would not suffer any hurt to come to her because of him.

  “What exactly do you want? I want to make sure I do not cross any lines.”

  “Such a good lad,” Robert taunted. “Send a message to your thief friend. Tell her not to bother you anymore. Keep to yourself. If you are looking for companionship, Gillam can spend the days with you. After you have voted in my favor at the council meeting, you can resign quietly. I will even pay for your journey to Arganis. And from now on, keep your opinions to yourself.”

  “I will do it – all of it – but I want to choose my messenger.”

  ~*~*~

  Ridley poked at the bland porridge Ginger made. She wrinkled her nose, but ate it. “You know,” she said as she and Marcus ate, “they have fresh fruit and vegetables at the castle.”

  “Then ask Jack if you can live there, because here we eat what can be afforded,” Marcus responded tersely.

  There were a number of thieves in the house eating supper with them and those in the kitchen laughed, earning a sneer from Ridley. In better times she might have flung the gruel at them, but every bite was precious. She continued to eat in annoyed silence instead.

  “Majesty?” a tall, lanky woman with greasy red hair said. She stood by the kitchen window and looked intently outside.

  “Yes, Clara?” Marcus put his bowl of gruel down to give her his attention.

  “Captain Moore is comin' up the road. Looks like 'e's got some purpose. 'E’s struttin' up 'ere like 'e owns the Lane.”

  Marcus was quickly up and out of his seat to investigate Clara’s claim, and Ridley joined him at the window.

  Nathaniel came alone and outside of his captain’s uniform, but Ridley knew he wasn’t coming to her home for a social call. Ridley had to admit he was a brave man to walk at dusk in the Lane without fellow guards to attend him. She entertained the idea of running around the house, jumping him, and giving him a tap on the head to teach him to be afraid, but she refrained. She begrudgingly dealt with the other guard captains, like the insufferable Captain Ericson, who stalked after her and made threats behind her back, but Moore always treated her civil enough when she delivered bribes and picked up the incarcerated thieves.

  “Ridley, let us go see what the good captain wants.” Marcus crossed the kitchen and grabbed their coats where they hung by the door. “The rest of you scout the area to make sure he hasn’t brought anyone with him.”

  The assembled men and women did as their king said, heading towards several hidden e
xits around the house. The thieves would sneak out of them and spread out through the alleys, sweeping for any spies Nathaniel might have placed around to watch Marcus. Ridley had caught spies in the past. Generally, poor Lane children were used. They were either too young to know not to trust the guards, or else they were hungry enough to watch the King of Thieves for a few ha’pennies. Ridley usually gave them a copper or two and sent them back to the guardhouse with made-up stories. She hoped the thieves filtering into the streets now were as kind to any little spies they found.

  Marcus helped Ridley into her coat and then put his own on. They left through the front door, catching up to Nathaniel as he came up their walk.

  “To what do I owe this unexpected visit, Captain?” Marcus asked.

  “You? Nothing. I am merely here to deliver a message to Ridley.” The captain looked past Marcus to his adopted daughter.

  She cocked her hip and crossed her arms over her chest. “What message?”

  “Seemingly, Jack did not trust anyone else to bring it to you. He is ordering you to stay away from the castle. If you have any requests, you are to send them through the proper channels. He looked stern when he said it, but he left out a good deal of the story, I am sure.”

  “What do you mean?” Ridley dropped her defensive pose. She knew Jack wouldn’t just send her away.

  “His Grace of Escion lurked by while Jack gave me the message, and when he says ‘proper channels’, I believe he means me. Poor sod is being made a prisoner by his own father.”

  Ridley kicked at the ground. “Jack is my friend.”

  “Be still, girl.” Marcus wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “He will be free once he does what he was paid to do. The king and duke were never going to allow him to stay in power for very long.”

  Ridley noted the frustration in Marcus’s tone when he spoke. She cut her eyes to Nathaniel and saw the annoyance and coldness wasn’t lost on him either.

  “If you will excuse me?”

  “Good evening, captain,” Marcus said and waved Nathaniel away.