The Death Dealer - The Complete Series

by Katie Roman

  To keep up appearances, Grace went from room to room. The servants in Gretchen and Juliet’s rooms stated the ladies were in need of towels and hairpins. Tristan’s servant said the knight wanted warm tea and whiskey. Grace grabbed the first Arganis servant she found and passed the requests on. Once she visited each room, she went up into the tower to visit her mother.

  Deidre was still in bed. Since Katherine’s arrival, Grace’s mother had more good days than bad. She sometimes slipped into her old habits of crying, screaming and such, but she didn’t wander anymore and she didn’t attack anyone who told her Daniel was dead. Leandra suggested sending Deidre to stay in Actis after the wedding, or asking Katherine to stay in Arganis for a while. Grace didn’t like the former, and doubted Katherine would agree to the latter.

  “Mother?” Grace asked as she sat on Deidre’s bed.

  The night before, Deidre insisted she would have to get a good night’s sleep because she would be wed to Lord Daniel in the morning. As such, Grace wasn’t sure in what state of memory she would find her mother when she woke.

  “Grace, dear, are you excited to see your cousin married?” Deidre sat up, propping her back against the pillows of her bed.

  A bubble of stress deflated inside Grace’s chest. Her mother was in the present, which meant she most likely wouldn’t make a scene at the wedding.

  “When you go to the tournament this summer, you will find a husband,” said Deidre cheerfully.

  Grace tensed a little. At least her mother’s mind was mostly there. “I do not think I will find a handsome knight or lord at the tournament, Mother.”

  “Tsk, is this about that ruffian?” Deidre took Grace’s hand and began to stroke it. “A city guard is far below your station, Grace. No matter how handsome he is.”

  Grace had mentioned Jack to Leandra on a few occasions. When Deidre wasn’t fit to give motherly advice, Grace found Leandra was. The two talked in front of Deidre during those times when she sat blankly staring into space, although Grace never thought her mother retained it. She had certainly never brought it up before.

  “Mother, it is a bit more complicated than that.” Grace locked her fingers with her mother’s.

  “Don’t be like that stupid young man in Escion, Duke Robert’s son, Jonathan. He tried to steal from Katherine and then run away. No, you have a fine dowry thanks to George, and you have strong childbearing hips.” Deidre used her free hand to pat Grace’s side.

  Grace let her mother keep talking about what good stock Grace came from. She told Grace that while she may be small like the Hilrens, she was beauty and grace like Deidre’s de Chillion line. “And what are you wearing?”

  “I was going to change after I saw you,” Grace said. “I did not think anyone would mind this.”

  “I mind, and if you think you are going to wear that faded yellow dress I have seen you in lately, you are sorely mistaken.” Grace’s faded yellow dress belonged to a woman in the village now, as it was given away when she was thrown into exile. It didn’t matter. Deidre wouldn’t suffer Grace to wear any of her normal dresses. “Go to my bureau. I have a pink dress you must wear to your cousin’s wedding. If I see you parading around in anything else today, I will have Leon take a switch to your behind.”

  Grace got off the bed, walked toward the bureau, and pulled out her mother’s pink dress. “Try it on,” Deidre demanded.

  Grace had no choice but to do as she was told. She stepped behind her mother’s room divider and stripped off her trousers and night shirt, and then pulled the dress over her head. It was too long in the skirts and a bit too tight in the chest and arms.

  She looked at herself in her mother’s full length mirror. Her hair was a mess, hanging down her back in knots, and she looked sleepy with dark circles under her eyes, but she still felt lovely in her mother’s dress. The bodice had small, white pearls sewn into it and a square neckline, a modest cut for a young lady. The sleeves were close on her upper arm, but billowed open from the elbow down.

  Deidre appeared in the mirror behind Grace, her eyes analyzing Grace’s figure. She turned Grace around, took hold of her face, and made her look this way and that. “I will need to hem this so you don’t step on the skirts all day, and we will need to net your hair, but I think this shall do.”

  The young woman had no notion of how she was going to explain the dress to Leon. He expected her to stand at attention for the ceremony in her pressed guard uniform.

  Deidre ignored any protests her daughter had and stood Grace on a small stool. She complained that there was no time to hem the dress properly, but she pinned up the bottom, bemoaning her lot in life.

  “Other daughters would have come to me sooner to find a suitable dress, you know,” Deidre said around the pins in her mouth. “It is no matter. I hear there is a young knight from Escion here! And the prince! Even in this poorly hemmed gown, you will take their breaths away.”

  Grace had to admit she liked wearing the dress. She’d never been one to wear fancy dresses that cost more than some people’s houses, but like any other young woman, she liked to look pretty every once in a while. The bodice of the gown was a smooth, pink silk and the underskirts were soft linen. The more she moved, the easier it fit as the dress stretched to fit her bust and arms. She also liked the attention Deidre gave her. In these moments, her mother was more like the woman Grace remembered from her youth. For a moment, they were almost normal.

  Deidre gave her arm muscles a squeeze. “Have you been lifting sacks of flour? When did your arms get so big?”

  “I have been joining Uncle Leon in sword practice.” It was true enough.

  “I wish you would not pretend at being a boy.” Deidre helped Grace step off the stool and pulled her over to her chair by the loom. Deidre picked up a brush and set to work on Grace’s tangled hair.

  Grace felt the tug of the brush as her mother worked out the knots and gritted her teeth at the pain. She’d suffered worse things than pulled hair, but her scalp still ached.

  Deidre braided and pinned Grace’s hair up after brushing through it. She secured loose strands with hairpins and tucked the braids into a net. “Go have a look at yourself.”

  Grace did as her mother instructed and went behind the room divider again to check herself in the mirror. The hairnet was made of silver thread and shimmered in the weak light of the room’s candles. Inside the net, her hair looked like an interlocking knot that continued forever. The top of her head was outside the net and was combed back, leaving only a few strands hanging loose. Deidre had cut them to frame Grace’s face, giving her long bangs.

  “Well?” Deidre called from the other side of the divider.

  “I do not think Leon or George are going to like this.” Not when she had already missed the morning muster and was supposed to be in her uniform.

  Deidre tutted. “They will change their minds once they see you. After all, Leon is the one who thinks you need to go to the tournament this summer to find a husband.” She came around the divider with a pair of shoes to match the dress.

  “Leandra!” Leon yelled through the door and banged his fist against it. “Have you seen Grace?”

  Deidre was still in her nightdress, so she hurried Grace out of her bedroom and into her solar. “Let him in while I dress, then ring for my maid so I can get ready for the wedding.”

  Grace debated climbing out the window to avoid Leon, but decided the risk of a broken neck was worse than his wrath. He continued banging on the chamber door, so Grace squared her shoulders and opened the door.

  He frowned when he saw her in the pink gown. “Your uniform?”

  “You try arguing with her,” Grace said, gesturing to the closed bedroom door. “She thinks I am going to the tournament in the summer,” she whispered.

  Leon nodded, knowing now in what memory his sister-in-law dwelled. “I suppose you can be forgiven for missing muster this once, if it eases her mind to dress you up like a little doll.”

  Grace felt a pout c
oming on, but she sucked in her lower lip before it had a chance to protrude in a sulk. “I think I look like a proper lady and not a doll.”

  “Don’t get haughty, Grace. I only meant that you have duties elsewhere.” He patted her shoulder. “You do look very lovely, much like you did before you left for the tournament. I officially relieve you of your responsibilities for the day.” He leaned in close, putting his mouth near her ear. “Thank you for your quick thinking on the stairs, but how long did you stand there?”

  Grace drew back from him, looked up into his eyes, and gave a small shake of her head. “Long enough to know he is bold as brass.”

  “Perhaps you should make your presence known sooner next time.”

  Grace narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. “Perhaps you should not talk so loudly.”

  A tense moment passed between them. Leon’s face looked as though it could curdle milk, but soon enough the moment passed and he kissed the top of her head. “Go on – find George and Calvin and make sure they are ready to go to the temple. You may be excused from your normal duties, but do not think you are excused from all. Deidre!” he called. “I am sending your child on errands for me! I will have a maid come up to help you dress.”

  Grace moved along toward George’s study, as she couldn’t imagine her uncle preparing his heir anywhere else. She knocked lightly on the door and pushed her way in when Calvin called from inside. Tristan and Drake were with her family, all enjoying a glass of whiskey.

  All eyes fell on her.

  “I am to see if you are ready to go to the temple,” Grace said, breaking the spell she’d cast over them.

  “Once we finish our drinks.” Calvin crooked his finger for Grace to come closer.

  She went fully into the study and closed the door behind her. Calvin poured one more tumbler, handing it to her as she came near, and she saw he put only enough to cover the bottom of the glass. “My father would not take spirits so early in the day, not even in celebration. Join us in his stead?”

  Grace was warmed that no more hard feelings stood between her and Calvin. She took the offered glass, breathing in the harsh odor of the brown liquid. It burned her nostrils and it would eventually burn her throat, but one glass was fitting to toast her cousin.

  “Is this really proper?” Tristan asked, but even his anger was subdued.

  “It is in my house, young man,” George said. “You look very beautiful this morning, Grace.”

  “My mother insisted.” George nodded and sipped at his whiskey.

  “Will you walk down to the temple with us? Or will you go with the ladies?” Drake asked, his eyes searching her face.

  Grace blushed and looked away. She rarely broke stares with anyone, but she felt uncomfortable under the prince’s gaze. “I thought I might walk with my mother.”

  “You should come with us,” Drake said. “We could discuss fighting techniques and the latest news from the south.”

  Grace forced a smile onto her face. She knew now what he wanted. Katherine or Leon must have told him she caught them and saved them from being spied on by Kara. Perhaps he wanted to thank her, or perhaps he wanted to try and recruit her again. She knew only that she wanted to stay away from the whole sordid mess.

  “Actually, Grace,” Tristan cut in quickly. “Could you help me find my way to the kitchen while they start over to the temple? I have a special request for the feast that I would like to speak with the cook about.”

  Grace recalled a time long ago when Tristan lured her away from a party to attempt a courting. She doubted very much he’d try again, but she regretted not grabbing a knife before lumbering out of her room earlier. She needed any advantage she could get over Tristan.

  “Then we should head down now. Come with me, Sir Knight,” Grace stated, and swallowed her whiskey in one gulp. Fire burned down her throat and her head spun for a moment.

  She led him out of the room toward the master stair, but Tristan caught her by the arm. He pulled her through the door and into the dining room before closing the door. No lights were lit and the shutters were closed, but a little sunlight streamed through the cracks.

  “I heard what happened on the stair this morning.”

  “I protect my family, Tristan. No more, no less.”

  In the dim light, Grace saw Tristan cross the room to lean against the table. “I am aware, but Drake thinks it is more. He is entirely fascinated by you and has been for years. He wants you to serve as spymaster for him.”

  Grace went to the window and pulled the shutters open. Soft morning light reached into the dim corners and bathed everything in pale yellow, but she checked under the table and in the shadows. “Does no one check for silent watchers?” she finally said, once she assured herself Kara or another servant wasn’t lurking in the room with them. “And as for His Highness, I am not a spy. He will have to look elsewhere.”

  “I thought you might say as much, but I was instructed to ask once more. Personally I think we are safer without you mucking about.”

  “Thank you for your confidence in me, Sir Knight.”

  Outside the door, they heard the laughter of the prince and Calvin as they walked by. Neither one said anything, but waited until the voices were no longer audible.

  “If you truly wish to stay out of our affairs, keep clear of us. All of us.”

  “Then who will check the stairwells and under tables for you?” She rolled her eyes. “I will not be kept away from my mother just because Katherine likes to sit with her. I will not stop talking to my cousin because he and His Highness are friends. And I will not shirk my guard duties because you may be whispering secrets in the courtyard. Find another barony to conduct your foul business. George and Calvin will have none of this when they find out.” Grace stopped and bit her tongue. Although she disagreed with the king’s embargo, she was no traitor to the crown.

  “You call it ‘foul business’ that we are trying to feed the people of Cesernan so they might survive the winter?”

  “You endanger my family in doing so! Noble intentions oft go awry, Tristan.” Grace thought about the things she had done while under the guise of the Death Dealer. She set out to do good, yet brought only destruction. “I am going to walk with the ladies to the temple. I trust you can find the kitchens yourself.” She left the dining room in a huff, and to her relief found no one lurking in the hall to overhear them.

  ~*~*~

  The temple in Arganis was not as grand as the one near the king’s castle or the one in Glenbard. In those places there were separate temples to Ciro and his sister Kamaria, and if enough people worshipped her, as they did in Glenbard, there was a third temple for Diggery. In Arganis, there was only one temple. Wooden statues of Ciro and Kamaria stood at the north end. Ciro had a blazing sun carved into his chest and Kamaria had the crescent moon on hers. Their serene faces looked down on their followers, hands to their breasts.

  In the back of the temple was a small alcove with a diminutive statue of Diggery; a recent addition. When Grace returned from Glenbard, she asked for only one small indulgence: that a shrine be made for her patron goddess. Like Ciro and Kamaria, Diggery was made of wood, though the woodworker had painted the wolf black. Grace spent holy days in the alcove. A little bench sat before the statue, but she had yet to see anyone else use it.

  The noble guests of Calvin’s wedding sat at the head of the temple, but Grace hung back in her alcove, the wolf statue behind her. She was proud to see her cousin standing in his finery before the priestess of Ciro and Kamaria. Calvin wore a cloak made of rich, blue velvet that was clasped in the front by a silver chain. Underneath his fine cloak, Calvin had on a white shirt under a blue vest embroidered with silver thread to show the Arganis hawk. His black pants were tucked into new riding boots and a gleaming sword hung at his side. His shield, painted with the same hawk, sat at Ciro’s wooden feet.

  Beside him stood Victoria. Her gown was fine silk, trimmed in silver thread. Grace wondered if Katherine had embroidered it
. Her veil covered her head and face in a sheer layer of lace, and there was a blue sash tied around her waist to match Calvin’s cloak. The Actis banner lay on a stand at Kamaria’s feet. When the bride and groom held hands, the priestess covered them with her own.

  There was light applause as Calvin and Victoria were pronounced husband and wife, but there was stamping of feet and cheers as they descended from the altar and walked hand in hand down the center aisle. Behind them came the priestess, smiling politely, then came Leon leading Katherine, Drake leading Gretchen, and Tristan leading Juliet. Last came Deidre on George’s arm. Grace watched them all pass in their turns.

  She waited until the temple was empty, knowing the crowd would make for the tents to enjoy food, drink, and dance. It appeared that the entire village had turned out to see their heir happily wed. Outside, the cheers continued as some three hundred-plus voices welcomed the husband and wife to the feast. Grace knelt in front of the statue of Diggery, offering a silent prayer for her cousin and his new wife.

  Eventually she left the temple. Someone played the fiddle in one of the tents and the smell of roasting meat and fresh bread wafted on the air. Grace made for the largest of the tents. None of the nobles were to be found, but she saw Hoburn towering above everyone else in his guardsman tunic.

  “What a sight you are today!” he exclaimed. Cassandra, red nosed from the cold and wine, clung to his arm.

  “My lady always was a beauty, no matter that Katherine used to call her plain,” Cassandra slurred. “Toast with me, Grace! We celebrate the good fortunes of your cousin and Arganis. And food! None of the hard tack and gruel that was sure to be the feast if not for the generosity of Prince Drake!”

  Grace gently covered Cassandra’s mouth with her hand. Her friend barely noticed the hindrance and kept talking through the muzzle. In other circumstances, Grace might have laughed to see Cassandra drop decorum, but these were trying times.