by C. J. Archer
She eyed my medical pack in Dane's clutches. "I do hope she's all right and it's nothing serious."
"She'll be fine."
"Will you walk with me?"
"I was about to leave. The captain was taking me to the coach house."
"I'll take you." She hooked her arm through mine. "Captain, take Miss Cully's bag to the coach house and tell them to prepare a carriage for her. We'll walk slowly."
Dane acknowledged her with a curt bow.
Miranda tilted her head to the side and watched him leave. "He's very serious."
"Not always."
"He cuts a fine figure. Very fine."
"Does he?" I said idly.
She laughed. "Don't pretend you haven't noticed. You're not blind."
I laughed too and she hugged my arm.
"It feels wonderful to laugh," she said. "I've missed you. You must come more often."
"It's not easy. I can't come and go uninvited. You could visit me in the village again."
She sighed. "I'll try, but my parents don't think I need to go into the village. They say I have everything I need here, including suitable women to be friends with. They don't understand that most of the ladies of my age are silly creatures who wish to throw themselves at the king. The only one who has no interest in him is Kitty, the duchess of Gladstow, but her husband doesn't want us being friends. I can't think why."
I knew why, but I wasn't going to inform her that the duke of Gladstow had been slighted by Miranda's mother years ago. He'd not forgiven her. Indeed, he seemed to want to punish her. He'd gone so far as to accost her behind the hedges on the night of the revels. It wasn't my place to tell Miranda any of that, and it seemed her parents hadn't informed her either.
"Thankfully, my parents have given up on me becoming queen," Miranda went on. "I'm lucky they're not the sort of people to force me into marrying a man I don't love."
"You're no longer the king's favorite?"
The corner of her mouth lifted. "My parents and I have moved back to our old rooms. They're hot and cramped, and miles from the king's apartments, but I like my room better than the suite the king assigned to me in the ducal corridor. For one thing, the other women no longer look at me like they want to poison me, and for another, I don't feel as though I owe the king any favors. I do miss being close to Kitty's rooms. It made it easier for us to meet in secret."
"Who's his favorite now?"
She lifted a shoulder. "Lady Violette drapes herself over him at every opportunity, and he flirts outrageously with her, but I don't think it's gone further than that. He seems to want an unmarried woman."
"Has he taken any of them to his bed?"
"No, and I think that's the problem."
"What do you mean?"
She looked around. We were half way between the gate and the stables and coach house. Dane had gone on ahead but was well out of earshot. No one else was nearby. Even so, Miranda lowered her voice. "He is surrounded by beautiful women vying for his attention, some of them in very overt ways, but he hasn't bedded any. Some men might be able to manage their frustrations, but not him. He hasn't got the strength of character for it."
Her opinion agreed with mine but I didn't tell her so. I didn't want to explain why I agreed. The fewer people who knew I'd attended to him the better.
"I hope he chooses a willing participant," Miranda said wryly. "Those of us who aren't so willing but have captured his interest will thank her."
I tightened my grip on her arm. "Stay out of his way as much as you can."
"Why do you think I go on so many rides?" She nodded at the stables where several riders on horseback entered the yard through the arched entrance from the avenue. "He detests riding. I heard he fell off when he went hunting today. It happened at the start of the hunt. He pretended a scuttling creature frightened his horse, but the truth is, it didn't rear. He simply fell off."
"Did anyone laugh?"
"I doubt it. None would dare. He's not cruel or vindictive but he is a man, and men have their pride."
Our pace slowed even more. Neither of us wanted to reach the coach house and have to part. I enjoyed talking to her. She was good natured, intelligent, and had a wicked sense of humor. She was also willing to impart gossip that Dane was not.
"In a way, I feel sorry for the king," she went on. "Ruling an entire kingdom can't be easy, particularly for someone with a humble background."
"He's from Freedland, isn't he?" I tried to sound casual. I knew so little about King Leon's past, but it was time I learned more if I was going to find evidence that he was involved in the magical mystery surrounding the existence of the palace.
Miranda nodded. "The thing is, no one seems to know precisely where he was born. He evades the question when asked."
"That's odd."
She glanced around again and leaned closer. "Kitty tells me her husband sent spies into Freedland to find out more about him. She overheard him talking to some other lords who don't think Leon should be king."
"Is the duke of Buxton one of his co-conspirators?" I asked.
She shook her head. "I doubt it. Before Leon took the throne, each of the dukes were eyeing it for themselves. They wouldn't collaborate now. Neither has much support among the nobles anymore, according to my father. Most believe King Leon is the rightful heir and that's the end of it."
"But if the dukes can prove he's not the rightful heir?"
"Shhh." She looked around again. "Don't say that out loud, Josie. It's treason. Anyway, of course he's the heir. A document from the High Temple proved it, and King Alain acknowledged him before his death. If Kitty's right, the duke of Gladstow is heading down a fruitless path. Of course, she didn't know wine was made from grapes until I told her, so she could be wrong about her husband."
"Where did she think wine came from?"
"An animal, like milk."
I laughed, but it quickly faded as I thought about the duke of Gladstow sending spies into Freedland. I understood his need for information. I wanted to know more about the king's past too. It could provide a clue as to where Dane and the others had come from and how they'd lost their memories. The key point was the king didn't want anyone to know. Why? Why did he not want even his own advisers to know about his life before he appeared on the doorstep of King Alain's castle in Tilting?
One thing I knew for certain, the king wouldn't give an honest answer if asked directly. He had something to hide and he wasn't going to give his secrets up easily. Dane was wise not to confront him yet. But he would have to confront him one day.
We'd reached the part of the avenue that dissected the stables and coach house. Two men emerged through the entrance leading to the stable yard. One was dressed in a gentleman's doublet while the other wore plainer clothes with no embellishments, ornate collars or cravats. He spotted me and I swore under my breath. It was Doctor Clegg. The gentleman with him must be Glancia's finance minister, the doctor's employer. He certainly looked in need of constant medical attention. He couldn't have been aged more than forty, yet he was as thin as Balthazar, with hollowed out cheeks and yellow skin. We weren't close enough to see his eyes but I suspected they'd be yellow too. It was impossible to know what underlying illness ailed him without further study as the visible symptoms pointed to several.
Doctor Clegg spoke to the finance minister, drawing his attention to me.
"Why are they looking at you with such suspicion?" Miranda asked.
"Doctor Clegg thinks I'm dispensing medical advice."
"Then lets set him straight. Come along."
I held her back. "He won't believe us, and I'd rather simply avoid him." I tried steering her to the coach house on the other side of the avenue, but someone else leaving the stables had caught her attention. I groaned. It was Lady Deerhorn with her daughter, Lady Violette Morgrave, and her eldest son, Lord Xavier.
"It seems the Deerhorns have been plotting again," Miranda said.
"Plotting?"
"To get Viole
tte into the king's bed. Whenever I see two or more of them together, that's what I imagine they're discussing. It's certainly not whom the king will marry, since there are no eligible Deerhorn ladies. Why were they invited to the palace anyway? I thought only those families with eligible daughters were invited."
"The duke and duchess of Gladstow have no children and they're here," I said.
"Yes, but he's an advisor and duke. Lord Deerhorn is just a regular count. He's not an advisor and his only daughter is married."
"Perhaps because they're the local nobility. It would have seemed odd not to invite them since they live nearby."
"And doesn't Lady Deerhorn like to crow about being the king's neighbor." Miranda rolled her eyes. "That one's a wasp, Josie. Stay out of her way or you'll get stung."
It was too late for that. "Speaking of staying away, be careful of her sons," I told her. "Xavier is the worst but the other two aren't much better."
She frowned at me. "Did he do something to you?"
"Another girl in the village. Make sure you're never alone with him."
"Thank you for the warning, but I doubt he'd attempt anything here or with me. He wouldn't dare."
She was right, to a certain extent. Lord Xavier was smart enough not to touch a noblewoman, but he was definitely cruel enough to rape a maid.
A palace footman carrying a man's hat emerged from the stables behind the Deerhorns. He looked familiar but it wasn't until he followed Lady Deerhorn's icy gaze to me that I remembered the precise moments I'd seen him. He'd been the servant I'd met in the service corridors on my first night at the palace, and then again when he'd come to collect my father, not knowing he'd died. The way he looked at me on those occasions had been very much the same as the way the king looked at me today.
His tongue darted out and licked his lower lip. Ugh. Revolting.
He handed Lord Xavier the hat and said something to him. Lord Xavier glanced at me and smiled. Then he winked.
"Let's go," I said to Miranda. "My carriage must be almost ready."
I ushered her toward the coach house just as the double gates opened and a small carriage bearing the king's coat of arms rolled out. Dane led the horse by the bridle. I glanced back toward the stables, but the Deerhorns were walking in the direction of the palace, the footman having gone on ahead.
"Be careful walking alone in the palace," I told Miranda.
She frowned. "Why?"
"Just don't go into the gardens alone at night or into the service corridors."
"Josie, what's got into you? Are you worried about Xavier Deerhorn?"
"Just be careful." I kissed her cheek and left her looking dazed to join Dane, waiting for me by the open carriage door. My bag sat inside on the bench seat.
He took my hand and assisted me into the cabin. His touch lingered a little longer than necessary but was gone too soon for my liking. "Is something the matter?" he asked. "You look troubled."
"Did you see that footman? The one with the Deerhorns?"
He nodded.
"Is he one of the staff members on Balthazar's list of suspects?"
I knew from his face that I was right. "Why?" he asked darkly. "What has he done?"
"Nothing. It's just a feeling I get when he looks at me."
He stared after the footman. I put out a hand to touch the bunched muscles along his jaw but lost my nerve and lowered it again.
I also couldn't find the courage to ask him when I'd see him again. My father had taught me never to ask a question when you suspected the answer would be unwelcome.
"Goodbye, Dane," I said softly.
A smile as faint as a mirage touched his lips. "Goodbye, Josie." He shut the door and the carriage rolled away.
Chapter 4
Unlike his last investigation into the poisoning, I couldn't do anything to help Dane find the guilty party this time. But I could assist with the other matter—magic. Or, more specifically, researching magic.
I spent the following morning delivering medicines to my father's regular patients. Some were a little embarrassed not to have returned to see me since his death and sheepishly purchased the medicine, ointment or salve at the discount I offered, while others eagerly invited me in for tea.
After the exchange of pleasantries, I steered the conversations toward magic and the possibility of its existence. While no one admitted to believing in it, some said the rapid and inexplicable construction of the palace had them doubting what they'd always thought to be true. Several suggested I talk to a Zemayan if I wanted to learn more about magic, but the only Zemayan I'd known, Tamworth Tao the spice merchant, was dead.
With all the medicines delivered, I went to the docks in the hope of finding a Zemayan ship in the harbor, but none of the flags flying on the distant masts bore the red and black of that nation. The crews manning the smaller vessels transporting goods from their mother ships to the piers all had the paler coloring of Fist residents. I sighed. I would have to talk to Tam's family, a task I was hoping to avoid. His death and my father's were linked in a way I didn't want to think about. I expected Mistress Tao would be equally as reluctant to see me.
I made my way back along one of the twin piers jutting into the harbor, dodging sailors, passengers and dockers. The traffic was thick and forging ahead became an exercise in patience. I was jostled and sworn at. My ankles were nipped by a dog and my thighs bumped by a cart laden with melons. The fresh smell of the sea was lost beneath the odors of sweaty laborers and the general stench of unwashed bodies. Cleanliness wasn't a priority on a long sea voyage.
I finally drew in a deep breath when I reached the concourse. It was no less busy but at least there was more space and no danger of falling into deep water.
A hand gripped my arm and jerked me to a stop. I gasped and tried to pull free, even after I saw who'd accosted me.
"Ivor, let me go this instant or I'll scream."
He did but blocked my path. He wasn't overly tall or solid, but he was bigger than me. "What are you doing here?" he asked.
"That's none of your business."
He wrinkled his nose, bunching the freckles there into a solid splotch. "I was just asking. No need to bite my head off."
I sighed. I'd known Ivor my entire life. We'd been acquaintances, rather than friends, but lately he'd been paying me more attention. The last time I'd seen him, he'd been walking toward my house, a bunch of flowers in hand. After seeing me leave with Dane on horseback, he'd thrown those flowers on the ground. I'd not seen him since. Despite his thwarted attempt at wooing, he wasn't a threat to my safety. I was simply a little jittery after learning about the palace rapist.
"Sorry," I said, more gently, "but I don't like having my way blocked."
"I ain't blocking it. I'm just standing here. You almost bumped into me." His brows arched, challenging me to refute him.
I couldn't be bothered. "It's a busy place," I said, stepping out of the way of a man pulling a cart laden with empty crates. "Is it always like this?"
"Aye, lately. Never used to be, but after The Rift, it all changed. The fishermen hate it. They've got to wait until all the other ships' cargoes are loaded and unloaded before they get a berth."
"Aren't you supposed to be working now?"
He smiled and leaned closer. "Aye, but I'd rather be talking to you."
I stepped back and accidentally trod on the toes of a man carrying a canvas satchel on his shoulder.
"Watch it!" he snapped.
"You watch it!" Ivor snapped back. "She's got more right to be here than you."
The man's eyes darkened, his lips flattened. "You got a problem with me looking for honest work?"
A shadow of uncertainty passed over Ivor's pale blue eyes, but then he squared his shoulders. "I do when you take honest work from a Glancian."
The man snorted. "Seems to me you need us. Word is, the men here are just fishermen."
Two bright spots bloomed on Ivor's cheeks. "You got a problem with fishermen?"
&n
bsp; "I do when they're trying to run an international port. Look at this place." The stranger indicated the half-finished customs house, the throng trying to pass one another on the piers, and the big ships anchored in the mouth of the harbor because the water was too shallow nearer the shore. "It's a fucking mess. There ain't no organization, no way to find out who needs to hire workers. Goods come and go through here without the proper paperwork. Your stupid authorities are missing out on taxes. New arrivals are getting charged high prices for nothing more than a shit-hole room they share with five others. Seems to me you need experienced workers from The Thumb to do your jobs for you."
"Seems to me you need us for work," Ivor shot back.
The stranger hiked the satchel higher on his shoulder and headed off, muttering to himself about The Rift.
"If you hate it here, just leave!" Ivor called after him. "Go home to The Thumb. You ain't wanted in Mull."
The problem was, the man wouldn't have work to go home to. The Rift caused the outcrop of land known as The Thumb to be cut off from the mainland. For the most important port on the Fist Peninsula, it was a disastrous outcome as it meant it was no longer even part of the mainland. It was an island. Ships destined for The Fist bypassed it and docked in Mull instead, leaving most of Port Haven's residents without work. The Thumb's plight was magnified when the downstream section of the Mer River dried up after being cut off from its source. Without fresh water, The Thumb's farms couldn't thrive. It was a disaster for Vytill, the kingdom The Thumb belonged to. Port Haven had been a source of riches due to its customs taxes on goods and passengers passing through the port. Now, The Thumb was a burden on Vytill's treasury as the remaining residents survived on the king's charity.
Ivor gestured rudely at the stranger's back. "Arrogant prick."
"Ivor," I hissed. "He's just frustrated with the madness of this place, and he’s probably worried about finding work and feeding a family back home."
He folded his arms, tucking his hands high up under his armpits. "People like him are taking jobs away from honest, hard working Glancians."
