Grace of the Goddess (The Death Dealer Book 3) (11 page)

              Jack probably would not have been able to get a new one to Donald before his ship set out from Glenbard. She had hoped to get his thoughts on the whole nasty business, but just hearing from him always put her in a good mood.

              Jack started all his letters with a few lines he dictated from Ridley. The Princess of Thieves never bothered to learn her letters, so she had to rely on others to take care of her correspondence. Her lines expressed dismay over Captain Nathaniel Moore's harassment of the Thieves' Guild, and she begged Grace to return and sweet talk the captain into easing his grip on Rogue's Lane. Ridley explained how Marcus couldn't stay angry forever, and that it was high time Grace abandoned the frigid north.

              Then Jack took over; beginning his letter by detailing his guard work. Because he used to be a rusher at the toughest tavern in the city, plenty of folk obeyed him simply out of fear. “I'd never break any of their fingers now,” he stated in his letter, “but it's better if they think I might.” He went on about his new lodging in Serenity Place and the rift between Grace's old employer, Jim Little, and Marcus. He discussed the rising price of bread, and then detailed how the city magistrates set aside grain and oil. Anyone who signed up for the ration, which was almost every family in the city, was given a small ration each week.

              Grace stopped reading for a moment. Hunger was already prevalent on the Lane, and she was loath to think of those hungry people, now weakened by bad harvests and grain rations. She took a deep breath and continued reading Jack's letter.

              He wrote that he loved and missed her, but did not press her to return or to allow him to join her. Grace had been quite firm in her proclamation that he could come only when she asked him to. He no longer asked her when he could see her again; now, he only reminded her that someone who loved her dearly waited at her beck and call.

              Grace held the letter close to her heart and lay back to take a nap. She would compose a letter in return before Donald sailed south…a letter in which she finally asked Jack to come north. Then she would throw it in the fire and write another that filled him in on the current details of her life. It’s what she always did. At the end of the letter she would say she loved him, but she would make no mention of asking him to come to her. 

              She did love Jack, but she still hadn’t forgiven his betrayal. He left her once, so suddenly she barely had time to process the loss. Then he returned just as suddenly, expecting forgiveness. She trusted Jack more and more now since he hadn’t abandoned their letter writing relationship, but she wasn't sure she could welcome him back just yet. She wasn't sure she ever would.

~*~*~

              “The prince's ship has anchored off the coast!” Cassandra shook Grace awake from her nap.

              Grace swatted at Cassandra, trying to get her to cease her incessant shaking. “I'm awake, woman!” She pushed Cassandra away and sat up, and then noticed that Cassandra had already laid out her uniform, boots, and weapons belt.

              The woman stood next to Grace's bed, armed with a brush. Grace raised an eyebrow. “You are
not
going to be late,” Cassandra said firmly. “Not when His Highness is here.”

              Grace crawled out of bed and changed out of her traveling clothes and into her guard uniform. She sat on the floor, letting Cassandra secure her hair into a bun. When her old maid was satisfied Grace wouldn't embarrass her by looking like a vagabond, Grace hurried for the courtyard.

              The men of both the night and day watches milled about together, although Leon was nowhere to be seen. Hoburn waved to Grace from the far side of the courtyard, his red hair sticking up over the crowd. She sauntered over, prepared to hide behind him whenever it was necessary.

              “Sir Leon took ten men with him to help escort the guests here.” Hoburn scratched his chin, looking toward the main gate. “Sir Calvin's betrothed and her mother are with him, along with a handful of other nobles. According to the runner who went to see Lord George, they've brought a number of their own guards and plenty of horses to conduct a fine hunt.”

              “I hope they brought food enough for all these extra mouths.” Grace thought of Jack's letter detailing the rations in Glenbard. Calvin's wedding would do nothing to help the food shortage they faced in Arganis. Hoburn nodded, but didn't respond.

              Grace and Hoburn milled about with their fellow guards. They shared polite conversation, and some of the men expressed excitement at having a member of the royal family staying at the castle. Grace was only conscious of a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach.

              Her unease grew as time ticked by, and she knew she would need to keep herself tucked away. King Frederick was prepared to burn her as a witch when she masqueraded as her cousin, and only due to the kindness of the prince was she spared. Still, the king would not be pleased to hear she was working as a guard in Arganis, and with a house full of nobles, she ran the risk of being discovered. She wrung her hands, thinking she should have run the night before when the chance was still available.

              A horn blasted up the road and the guards formed ranks. Grace stepped behind Hoburn, glad for once of her small stature, and watched the tower where the banner of Arganis blew in the wind. Someone took it down and raised the black crowned owl on a field of gold, the prince's banner. Below it flew the Arganis hawk. Now everyone would know Prince Drake stayed within as a guest of the Hilren family.

              The sound of horses suddenly filled Grace's ears and she saw Leon leading a large party through the gate. Just behind him rode the prince. The prince's sandy brown hair was cut short, and he sported stubble on his chin. His clothes were slightly ruffled from his trip from Glenbard, though from where Grace stood she could tell the forest green, silk shirt, brown wool trousers, and fur-lined cloak were of fine quality. He smiled easily at the assembled guards, who bowed as he rode past.

              Behind Drake rode Calvin's betrothed, Victoria. Grace had only seen a pocket portrait that was painted of her when the engagement was made official, and she now saw that the artist’s work did no justice to her. Victoria's hair was blonde, with hints of pale red that shone in the sun. She was slender, like she could be swept away by a stiff breeze. Her dress was a stunning shade of purple trimmed with gold, while her cloak was made of velvet with fur around the collar. Victoria had a haughty look about her as she followed the prince.

              Grace frowned when she saw who rode next to Victoria. Duchess Katherine was to be expected, as she was Victoria's mother, but Grace had never liked the woman. She patronized and gossiped and made snide remarks. Her steely gray hair gave her an air of dignity and wisdom, but Grace knew better. Like her daughter, she wore a dress trimmed in gold, but hers was a dull blue next to Victoria's violet. But more alarming than the sight of Katherine was the presence of Sir Tristan of Escion.

              The knight was only a few years older than Calvin and he was handsome; more handsome than any other man Grace had ever met. His brown hair was the same color as freshly turned soil from the fields; glossy and thick. He kept it long, but tied back in a ponytail. Like the prince, he had some scruff on his chin, but surely he would shave at the first available moment. In style, he dressed nearly identically to the prince, though his shirt was a dark yellow and he wore a long coat. He looked down his nose at those assembled, smiling politely but never letting it reach his eyes.

              Grace clutched the back of Hoburn's jacket. The mountain of a man didn't move, but allowed her to grip his clothing in terror. One of the guards on her left, Mitchell, stepped closer to shield her better from view. She dared a sideways glance at him. He didn't look at her, but he winked all the same.

             
Tristan!
Of all the people to attend her cousin's wedding! Tristan had kissed and fawned over Grace at first, but upon her disgrace he cast her aside with cruel words. This man even told Grace he would kill her if he ever saw her again. She dared to sneak another look at him. She could tell that he liked to stay clean, and probably didn't bear the scars of a well-seasoned knight. It was hard to believe this man was Jack's younger brother. It boggled the mind that someone as fiercely loyal as Jack could share blood with such a rat.

              As the knight moved on without noticing Grace among the assembled, a knot in her stomach came undone. The last noble in the procession was a gloriously fat man. Henry of Egona wore a velvet cap to cover his bald head and he smiled at everyone. His cheeks were red from the chill in the air, and he dressed in simple, gray wool trousers and a brown shirt under a black coat. Grace released Hoburn's jacket in relief. This one, at least, was here to see her as much as he was here for the wedding.

              Behind the nobles came a seemingly never ending stream of ladies-in-waiting, the prince's guard, servants, and royal hostlers. Once they all passed by, Leon gave the signal for the Arganis guards to disperse. Grace watched the nobles dismount and hand their reins over to the stable hands. She lost herself in the crowd of men leaving the courtyard.

Seven

              None of the servants would permit Grace entrance into the castle. The maids blushed and scurried away under Grace's hard glare, while the footmen looked down at their shuffling feet and rubbed the backs of their necks. Finally, Grace called for Leandra.

              The nurse rolled her eyes and led Grace up the servants' stair into the family's private rooms. “They're afraid of incurring Master Broyles's wrath,” explained Leandra as she unlocked Deidre's door. “He told them only those on his list are allowed in the castle, unless, of course, there is an emergency.”

              “And I am not on his list?” Grace put her hand over Leandra's before she could open the door to her mother's room.

              Leandra heaved a sigh. “Sir Leon approved the guards who would be stationed in the castle and he did not include you. The servants are all terrified of getting sent to the stocks for disobeying.”

              “And you're not?”

              “Master Broyles and Sir Leon do not scare me. I brought their children into the world and I nursed their illnesses and broken bones. If anything, they should be afraid I will stop doing such things for them.” She winked at Grace and opened the door to Deidre's room.

              Grace's mother sat before her loom, her fingers gently stroking the threads as though she were playing the harp. A fire burned in the fireplace, casting a warm glow. Grace knelt before her mother, but Deidre ignored her.

              “Do any of our guests suspect?” Grace asked.

              “My Lord told them she was ill. I'd hate for Lady Deidre to be subject to those twittering women. You know they'll all think her illness will spread to them. She will have to go down sooner or later, though. Her Grace of Actis was both a friend and a rival to your mother in their youth.”

              Grace snorted. The last thing she wanted was the stern, judgmental duchess seeing her mother now. Grace would paint spots on her mother's face to convince people she had the pox and they needed to stay away. She would do anything to protect Deidre's reputation.

              “Could you sit with her while I get myself some food?”

              “Of course, Leandra.”

              “I've been singing to her at night. It helps to bring her back to herself.” The nurse left and closed the door behind her.

              Grace got off the floor and pulled Leandra's rocking chair closer to her mother. Deidre did nothing but stare at her unfinished tapestry. Silence settled on the room like a blanket wrapped too tightly. It felt as if it was stealing all the air from the room. Grace cleared her throat.

              She began singing ‘The Lay of the Waves’. She had learned it from the fisherman in town, and she knew it was one of Deidre's favorites. Grace finished the ballad with no change to her mother's stoic position. Another silence descended, but after a few moments Deidre began to sing the song.

              From a young age, Grace had envied her mother's singing. Her voice was deep for a woman's, but haunting and beautiful. Grace joined her mother, putting a hand on her knee. Deidre placed her hand over Grace's.

              They were about to begin a fourth run through when someone knocked at the door. Leandra had probably returned with her hands full with a tray for Deidre. Grace got out of the rocker and hurried to let the nurse in, but to her surprise and horror, Katherine of Actis waited for admittance.

              The duchess wore the same clothes she arrived in, but her hair had been styled into an elaborate bun. Grace wore her guard uniform and her curtsey looked odd in men's clothing, but she was at a loss for what else to do.

              Katherine looked her over with a critical eye. Her upper lip curled and her eyes narrowed. “I thought you were living in Glenbard.” Her voice took on an accusatory tone.

              “Your Grace, I am recently returned.”

              “Pity,” Katherine said and stepped by Grace. “I have come to see Lady Deidre. She was not in attendance at our welcome dinner.” She took a seat in the rocker while Deidre still silently mouthed the words to ‘The Lay of the Waves’.

              “Your Grace, my mother is ill...”

              “So Lord George has said, however, I am not afraid of a fleeting illness. I came to see my old friend.” Not once did she look at Grace, although Grace could feel a chill in the room with the duchess's entrance. “Be glad I do not send for your immediate removal from these grounds. You are an exile now, girl. Deidre?”

              “My Daniel will be home soon to take you about the grounds, Kat,” Deidre mumbled. She turned to Katherine with a distant look in her eyes.

              Grace's mouth opened to cover up her mother's slip. “She jests, Your Grace; a silly game she likes to play.” It was better if Deidre said nothing rather than reveal how far her mind had slipped. Katherine was a gossip. She would spread word here and in the capital that Lady Deidre Hilren of Arganis was mad. Grace should have painted spots on her mother’s cheeks. Then she could blame her mother's words on a fever.

Katherine curled her lip and glared at Grace. “What did you say, Deidre?” Katherine pressed.

              “Daniel is off on a hunt, but when he returns he can escort you about. Tell me, how is Nic? And how is the baby you are expecting? You are barely showing, Kat.” Deidre began rocking her body back and forth and quietly began to sing the ballad again.

              Katherine turned to Grace. Her face was devoid of her usual stone mask, and instead her brow was crinkled in concern. “Your mother...?”

              “Is ill, Your Grace,” Grace repeated. Her mind scrambled to find something else to say, some lie the duchess would accept.

              “Grace, your father is long dead. What is she talking about?”

              “Daniel's dead?” Deidre stopped her rocking.

              Her face drained of color and she stood, wrapping herself up in her blanket. Deidre's hand snaked out and grabbed hold of Katherine's hair. Deidre shrieked like a banshee and Katherine cried out in alarm. Grace cleared the room in a few steps and wrapped her arms around Deidre, wrestling against her mother's surprising strength.

              “Mother, let her go!”

              “She's telling lies! My Daniel is only out for a hunt!” Her fingers tangled in Katherine's hair.

              Grace dug her nails between the tendons on Deidre's wrist in an effort to make her mother release Katherine. Her mother screamed and lost her hold, and Katherine jumped out of her seat to get away. Deidre clawed at Grace's face, opening a small cut on her daughter's cheek, but Grace grabbed both her wrists and held firm. Deidre began to cry and all the fight drained from her. Grace helped her back into her chair.

              “I told you she was ill!” Grace screamed at Katherine. “You stupid, stupid woman! You unbearable tramp! No wonder you-” The words left Grace's lips before she knew what she said. Luckily, she stopped herself before mentioning the arrest and sentencing of Katherine's husband. Instantly her hands went to her mouth. She was shocked at herself.

              Katherine's eyes widened. Her hair stuck out from its fancy bun, yet she still managed to retain dignity. Deidre sobbed quietly, and for a long moment, no one said a word. Grace's mouth moved like a gaping fish and Katherine stood still, studying her.

              Leandra's return broke the silence. “Your Grace! Lady Deidre is not well.”

              “Yes, so young Grace has informed me.”

              Grace's feet felt heavy. She wanted to run, to escape this moment, but taking the necessary steps seemed impossible. Instead, she waited for the hammer to fall, for Katherine to inform Leandra of her outburst. Even if Grace still held her former station, speaking to the duchess in such an insolent tone would garner swift punishment. Now, as nothing more than a lowly house guard, she couldn't imagine what would happen to her.

But Katherine did nothing. She simply turned to Leandra and pasted a fake smile on her face. “I thought a visit from an old friend would lift her spirits, but I see it will not.” She turned to Grace, her face an unreadable mask. “I should return to my own chambers.”

              “Your Grace,” Grace and Leandra both said as they curtseyed to Katherine's retreating figure.

              When the duchess was gone, Leandra shut the door and eyed Grace suspiciously. “What did you do?” the nurse hissed. She crossed the room and pushed Grace away from the still sobbing Deidre.

              “Made a lot of trouble for myself,” Grace replied shakily.

~*~*~

              The night air made Grace's fingers ache. She tucked her fingers into her armpits to warm them and watched the main road from the gatehouse. The room had a little table and two stools. The lamps were lit, but they didn’t provide any warmth. Grace's fellow guard dozed on one of the stools. His elbows were on the table and he rested his head in his hands. She was alert, at least.

              Each minute that ticked by meant she was that much closer to her punishment. Katherine would have told George and Leon by now about how Grace had spoken to her, and then she'd tell everyone that Deidre had gone mad. Calvin's wedding would be called off and the heir to Arganis would be a pariah. Again.

              Grace stopped watching the road for a moment to hazard a look at the castle. From the gatehouse's viewpoint she could see candles lit in only one room: Leon's. The rest of the castle was a dark foreboding place, rising up high into the night sky. Grace looked back toward the road. If she ran now, she could make it to the next fishing village before anyone realized she was gone. She promised George to wait out the winter, but certainly he wouldn't want her to wait now.

~*~*~

              Grace walked the path until she came to a fork in the road: Blood or fire. The goddess Diggery sat and waited for her.
Choose,
she commanded. Grace looked down each road. The blood flowed like a stream on the path to her right, while the fire ate up the trees in the path to the left. The black wolf sat and licked her chops. Grace took a step backwards and the wolf growled.

              “Midnight and alls wells!” Grace nearly knocked over her stool when the other guard called the hour. She didn’t even realize she had fallen asleep. Her mind, still stuck in the woods with the wolf, raced to catch up to her body as it shook sleep from her tired limbs.

              The other guard looked at her and shook his head. “Sir Leon is coming down from the castle.”

              “How do you know?”

              He pointed out into the courtyard where a figure moved through the dark. From his steady, purposeful gait, Grace knew it was Leon. He was probably coming to her now so she couldn't cause more of a scene when he sent her packing.
There is no harm done in a midnight retreat,
she said inwardly, and steeled herself for dismissal.

              Leon came into the gatehouse. There was barely room for two, and now the room was overly crowded. “Cooper, go see that the guards posted on the walls are not frozen.” Cooper bowed and left. He knew trouble when it entered his gatehouse.

              Grace thought about launching into her defense before Leon spoke. Who knew? He might even side with her. He loved Deidre, and even wanted her taken to the temple healers for the entirety of the wedding so as not to stress her. But he also respected his position and the social order of things. Katherine far outranked him.

              “I understand the Duchess Katherine visited your mother.” He slid onto Cooper's stool, but Grace remained standing. “Had you used such a tone with me, I'd have smacked you right off; though I see Deidre took care of that.”

              Grace touched the small cut under her eye. Although it only bled for a few seconds before drying, it stung. Still, she said nothing.

              “Gutter talk and insults may have been how you handled others in Glenbard, but you know better here. However, Her Grace is willing to forgive this transgression out of respect for your mother.”

              A knot in Grace's stomach came undone and her body sagged with relief. Leon continued, “Your presence has been requested for a ladies' ride tomorrow.”

              “What?” Grace's spine stiffened.

              “Her Grace has asked that you serve as guardsman for a leisurely ride that was planned for the ladies. I think she wants you to redeem yourself, although I tried to convince her otherwise. After all, I don't relish the idea of His Highness or Sir Tristan catching sight of you, but she was insistent. Now go to bed. Cooper can watch alone for a night.” Grace bowed to her uncle and left the gatehouse.