The Death Dealer - The Complete Series

by Katie Roman

  She didn’t care much for the arguing of George and Drake. After Grace’s walk with the prince, she wanted to talk to Katherine, to make sure her maid didn’t suspect her involvement in bringing the trade ship from Sera to Arganis.

  Grace entered her mother’s solar and found it packed. Victoria, Gretchen, and Juliet were there in a sewing circle with Kara. Leandra and Katherine sat with Deidre, opposite the younger women. Katherine had a book in her hand. Grace guessed either they took turns reading or Katherine read to them.

  “Grace,” Victoria smiled warmly. “So nice to see you. My mother said you would most likely be joining us. Do you have needle and thread? I can have Kara get you some.”

  “Let the girl alone,” Katherine chided. “She is here to spend time with her mother, not join your sewing circle.”

  Grace sat on the floor at her mother’s feet, since all the suitable seats were taken up already. Katherine looked down at her meaningfully and then cut her eyes to Kara. She was a more astute woman than Grace had given her credit for in the past. The duchess was aware Kara joined her tonight because of the shipment from Sera, and the whole stinking affair gave Grace a headache. She could crack the heads of ruffians who used their fists as weapons, but high conspiracies and traitors were beyond her normal scope of action.

  “We have been reading the epic poem of Ruli tonight while my daughter and her friends sew. Would you like to take over?” Katherine held the book out for Grace. “We have only just read the part where Julian calls on the Nareroc tribes for assistance.”

  Grace wasn’t in the mood for reading ancient poems about deeds long done, but she wasn’t about to refuse Katherine in front of the others, either. Grace took the book and began to read, “‘And yay unto you I say, I am the rightful king. Join me and I shall free thee from thy bonds of servitude.’” Grace read a few more stanzas until Leandra asked for the book to continue the reading.

  Around their circle, the book passed until Ruli called down fire from the sky and rode a lightning bolt into battle to vanquish his enemies. Grace kept a watch on Kara when it was not her turn to read. The maid pretended at being simple, smiling and laughing politely when the young women made a joke. She even fumbled with her embroidery. Her face was soft in the firelight and she looked like a demure, well-brought up young lady, perfectly suited to be a lady’s maid. But it was her eyes that hinted at deceit. They were hard and watchful. Her ears, no doubt, were absorbing every word that was said, while her eyes took in what wasn’t. Once or twice Kara caught Grace staring at her. For those moments, her shy mask fell away and a sly smile played on her lips. It could have been a trick of the shadows, but Grace trusted her eyes. Kara spied on the duchess.

  “I tire, Leandra,” Deidre said when the book was closed and put aside. “Kat, I do hope you will stay until the end of the week when Daniel returns.” And the evening had been going so well.

  Grace looked at the young women. They had probably already heard that Deidre’s mind occasionally slipped, but hearing a rumor and witnessing the truth were two different things. Victoria and her brood inched ever so slightly away. Even Kara didn’t dare stay too close to Lady Deidre. That, at least, gave Grace grim satisfaction.

  “I will stay in Arganis for some time, Deidre,” Katherine responded gently, getting out of her chair and helping Leandra with Deidre.

  “Grace, dear, will you show the young ladies to their chambers?” the duchess asked.

  “Of course, Your Grace.” She hugged her mother good night before going to the door, where she opened it and smiled to see the young women hesitate. They were actually afraid she could infect them. Silly geese, Grace thought. Finally Victoria squared her shoulders, gathered her needle and thread, and marched through the door with her head held high. Gretchen came next, followed by Juliet. Kara remained.

  “I will wait for the duchess,” she said, her tone challenging Grace to argue.

  Instead, Grace smiled and bowed good night before closing the door and taking the head of their small party. “Shall I ring for your own maids?” she asked, striding down the hall toward the stairs.

  “Our girls are already waiting in our chambers,” Victoria remarked as she came up right next to Grace. “We decided we would only need one maid among us, and Kara volunteered.”

  “Aren’t you afraid you will fall ill?” Juliet blurted out from behind them. Grace heard a “Sshhh!” from Gretchen and an “Ow!” from Juliet immediately after. “I am serious, and stop pinching me!”

  “I do not think I will catch what my mother has, my lady.” She looked over her shoulder to glare at Juliet and then turned back around, her point made.

  The young woman bit her lower lip, but foolishly continued, “My old nurse told me that madness is contagious.” Grace heard another “Ouch!” and smiled to herself that Gretchen had pinched her again. “I am being serious!”

  “Grace has been dealing with her mother for months and she is not mad,” Victoria said. “Now can we please drop the subject?” She gave Grace a sweet smile, hoping she was being helpful.

  “Your rooms, ladies.” Grace took them into the guests’ hall.

  “They will be joining me to help me prepare for tomorrow.” Victoria said, taking Gretchen and Juliet by the arms.

  Grace raised an eyebrow, wondering what these ladies could possibly have to say about the wedding night. The young women shuffled off into Victoria’s room and Grace turned to leave.

  “Grace!”

  Grace felt her heart sink. The day had been long enough, and an encounter with Tristan would only make it longer. She turned around slowly to see Tristan standing in his doorway, not looking quite as angry as usual.

  “Sir Knight?”

  “Join me in my chambers.”

  Grace crossed her arms over her chest. “Whatever you think transpired between your brother and me is never going to happen between you and me.” He may have stood above her in social rankings, but that didn’t mean she had to accept his advances.

  Tristan’s brow crinkled in confusion at first, but after a moment his eyes widened, understanding what she meant. “Gods, no! I just want to talk to you in private.”

  Grace had to admit he was keeping a civil tongue today. There had not even been one utterance of “tramp”, “whore”, or “witch” since he opened his door. It was a marked improvement on his usual tone with her. Still, she deliberated for another moment.

  “If you do not talk to me now, I will dog your every step until you do. Neither of us wants that,” Tristan said earnestly.

  “Fine.” She walked into his room, though she panicked a bit when the door closed. She tucked her hand into her sleeves, feeling for the straps on her arm sheaths. She would be ready to draw her knives if the need arose.

  Like Katherine’s room, Tristan’s had a fireplace in the small front room as well as a closed door that led to his bedroom on the far wall. Grace remained standing, even when Tristan offered her one of the cushioned, wooden chairs set before the fireplace.

  “I understand Drake talked to you about the ship today.” Tristan sat in one of the chairs, turning it to face Grace.

  “He did…”

  “I wanted to make sure that you will keep your mouth shut about you-know-who’s involvement. I do not trust that shifty eyed minx that tails her.”

  Then this was about Katherine and Kara. Victoria brushed the maid aside, but obviously others took her presence as a threat. Grace felt a headache come on. She never should have talked to Drake about any of it. She didn’t want to be stuck in a treasonous plot, no matter how wrong she thought the king’s decree was.

  “I can keep a great many secrets, Sir Tristan.” She thought of the hood waiting for her, tucked away in her trunk, waiting to go out and scare ruffians.

  “Good. We are already perched on the edge of the knife, and I think Drake was a fool to tell you anything.”

  “You are good to care about him, but you need not fear anything from me. May I go now?”


  “Not quite.” He crossed his leg and tapped his knee. “You understand the nature of what the prince did?”

  “I do know a bit of the comings and goings of law in Cesernan, and I read the occasional edict sent by the king. Don’t treat me like a dolt, Tristan.”

  He frowned at her, but none of his usual anger surfaced. “I want you to watch Kara for me. Report her doings. Make sure she is not doing anything she should not be.”

  Grace remembered being asked to trail a city guardsman for the King of Thieves. She didn’t like to follow people, not like that. She would trail a bandit to make sure he didn’t disturb the peace, but spying was entirely different. People who were spied on often went missing.

  “If I see the maid doing anything she should not be, I will report it to Sir Leon and Master Broyles…however, I will not spy on her.”

  “I am not asking, I am giving you a command.” Now the anger started to creep into his voice.

  “You are not master here. May I go?”

  He waved his hand. “At least you will keep your mouth shut. Because if you do not…”

  “What? You will kill me? You have made that threat before, yet here I stand. Find a new threat, Sir Tristan.” She slipped out of the door before he had time to offer a rebuttal.

  Grace continued on her course to reach her room. She hurried for the servants’ stairway, deciding her best bet for going unseen lay that way. Torches were lit every six steps, providing just enough light to see where one stepped, but not enough light to allow for running downstairs. On the servant’s stair she met Drake, who looked just as bewildered to see her.

  “I did not want to run into anyone on the main stairs,” he explained.

  “You would rather deal with bowing and scraping by servants on this stair?” Grace forgot her tone and quickly amended it. “No disrespect meant, Your Highness.”

  “I did not think of that, though this is a fortuitous meeting. I wanted to speak with you.”

  “Goodness, I feel like I am in a play. Friends and rivals pulling me into their chambers for secret conferences,” quipped Grace.

  “Tristan has talked to you, then?” The prince leaned against the wall. One false step and he’d tumble down the stairs. Grace thought the knock on his head would do him well, given his recent folly.

  “He has, Your Highness. My lips are sealed. I am off to bed now.”

  “I actually had one more request. I did not want Tristan to deliver it, given his feelings toward you.”

  Grace really did feel as though she was an actor in a silly play. The whole situation would have felt like a joke had she not been terrified of king’s justice raining down on their heads.

  “You lived in Glenbard for some time, right?”

  Grace nodded affirmatively.

  “I need someone to run messages there. Someone who knows a thing or two about the workings of the city. Someone who knows the thief king, perhaps. That friendship must have been fruitful. Don’t look shocked, Grace. I have men all over the realm who report to me. You are a point of interest for me.” His eyes shimmered in the torchlight.

  Grace remembered dancing with him years ago. He was a decent man, but she didn’t like being in his thoughts, and she didn’t like the way he looked at her now. It wasn’t lust, at least not in the way some men looked at her. It was longing, though; for what, she wasn’t sure.

  “Highness, I am no errand runner, and you speak loosely on a stair used by many. I belong here in Arganis, and I am sorry if that does not fit your plans.” She bowed, hoping it showed humility. She felt she spoke out of turn, but she wasn’t going to let him think he could hire her to be some secret courier in Glenbard.

  “I meant no offense, Grace. Please, go on to your room and forget I said anything.”

  Grace straightened, forced a smile, and left the prince standing alone on the servants’ stair.

  Thirteen

  It was just before dawn when Grace woke to the sound of hammering. Bleary eyed, she pulled on her uniform trousers under her nightshirt, wrapped a cloak around her shoulders, and after a few tries managed to slip her feet into her boots. She trudged through the kitchen, almost relieved to see the cook ordering her minions to prepare the food Drake brought in. The servants in the kitchen mumbled a few “hellos” to Grace as she walked through their ranks.

  She exited the castle through the kitchen door. In the courtyard, men, mostly lumberjacks, were busy setting up giant tents. The villagers would eat in them during the wedding feast. She saw braziers being dragged into place to keep the insides of the tents warm, and Master Broyles stood in the center of all the activity, barking orders to the laborers.

  “Your racket would wake the dead, Master Broyles,” Grace said as she came to stand next to him.

  “You are learning too much sass from Master Hoburn,” Broyles grumbled. “We need these tents ready for midday. If you can swing a hammer, start getting the posts in the ground.”

  “I have never swung a hammer in my life. I don’t even know what a hammer is,” Grace joked, trying to beat a hasty retreat before Broyles made her help the laborers.

  “Saucy wench,” he muttered as she hurried off.

  Grace circled the grounds to make sure all was as it should be before returning to the warmth of the castle. She took the servants’ stair up to the upper floors, where she hoped to catch her mother before Leandra arrived. It would be nice to spend a quiet morning with her. The stairway was as dark as it was the night before, and she took each step carefully so as not to slip and fall on her face. Upwards she went, enjoying the solitude of the early morning, but she halted her progress when she heard voices on the landing above her. She pushed herself further into the shadows.

  “There are ships heading to Pirate’s Bay and Renea. They will be as well stocked as those that landed here.” Grace frowned to hear Katherine’s voice. “I hope the fool didn’t put his seal on these orders. I gave him Nicholas’s seal for a reason.”

  “He’s as bold as brass, that one.” Grace grabbed the wall for support. Leon? How many more players were in Drake’s little conspiracy? “My brother is fit to be tied over this mess. I wish you had let me tell him.”

  “Your brother is a good man. He brought Arganis back to prosperity when Daniel would have run it into the ground, but he is also a king-fearing man and we could not have him involved.”

  From outside, Grace heard Broyles shout at someone. There was a great ruckus, and Grace could only hear some of what Leon and Katherine said. When the noise died down, she was able to hear the secret conversation better.

  “No, I will not tell him. I will not let any of this come down on my son’s head,” Leon said a bit louder. “And if you were smart, you would shield your son from it too. If he is taken up like Nicholas, the king will appoint a new Duke of Actis and you will be out in the cold.”

  “Don’t be such a –” Katherine whispered her response. Grace smiled in spite of the gravity of the situation. They obviously thought themselves alone, but the duchess still silenced whatever insult she said to Leon out of some long-remembered maidenly shyness.

  On the stairs below her, Grace heard movement and then saw Kara come onto the landing. She wore a dark gray cloak with the hood pulled up and moved quietly and slowly, probably trying to catch Leon and Katherine at something. “Maid!” Grace yelled loudly. “Should you not be in bed? Or perhaps tending to Her Grace?” Above her, the voices stopped. If her uncle and the duchess had any sense, they’d be fleeing back to their rooms.

  “I am running an errand for Her Grace, you heathen. Lower your voice or you will wake everyone up.” Kara now stomped up to Grace’s spot on the stairs.

  Running an errand? Grace thought. And I am the goddess Kamaria herself. “Permit me to join you. I am on an errand for the steward, Master Broyles. I am seeing if any of our guests require anything before the wedding.”

  Kara didn’t betray her annoyance; instead, she smiled and waited for Grace to lead the way to the guests�
� chambers. Grace took the lead, heading up toward where she had heard Katherine and Leon. Though she knew they were smart, she was still relieved to see them gone as she stepped onto the landing.

  “You are running errands dressed like that?” Kara asked as Grace opened the door leading down the hall. “You are still in your nightshirt.”

  Grace looked down in dismay. She had merely rolled out of bed to investigate the noise from the courtyard and then to see her mother, so she didn’t think a change of clothes was in order. It was too late now.

  “When Master Broyles bangs on your door, you best be ready to hop to, proper attire or no.” If Broyles saw her attending anyone in a nightshirt he would flog her, but Kara didn’t need to know that.

  Grace went straight for Katherine’s room, where she let the maid knock and call for the duchess. Katherine opened her chamber door, looking in no way frazzled at her near escape on the stairs. She wore a red dressing robe over her nightdress, held fast at her neck.

  “Grace, what on earth are you wearing?”

  “I have been sent to make sure everyone has what they need for the day. I expected only to speak to maids and valets, but Kara said you were awake. I apologize for my appearance, Your Grace.”

  “Kara, fetch me some water. I would like to wash my face, and the water in my pitcher is ice cold.”

  Kara bowed, hurried into the room, retrieved the pitcher, bowed again on her way out, and scurried off down the hall.

  “Thanks are in order,” Katherine said. “You are a most attentive young guard.” She kept her words vague in case Kara still lurked nearby. “Tell the steward I am not in need of anything. I believe everyone else is still asleep, but I have heard a few servants scuttling about.” The duchess grasped Grace’s forearm firmly; a grasp soldiers used to greet one another. Grace returned the grip on Katherine’s arm. The duchess mouthed “thank you” and released Grace.