by Katie Roman
Grace shaded her eyes from the sun and nodded. “Everyone deserves a proper send off. It is a pity I could not afford to see to those killed by guards and those who died from hunger, but I have done what I can.”
Thom chuckled softly into the barricade. “You still plan to renounce your title? The Lane could use a proper queen like you.”
Grace took hold of a broken end table, yanking it free of the makeshift wall. A few small pieces tumbled down after it. “They need to look elsewhere. I will always look out for the Lane, but not as the Queen of Thieves.”
“And who will take your place?” Thom picked up some of the spare pieces along the ground, tossing them onto the pile.
“No one has come forward. There will be elections soon for the Lane’s magistrate; hopefully that will mean the Guild is no longer needed.”
“And if the new magistrate fails?” Thom stopped working to stare at Grace, his face a blank mask.
She turned away rather than face his calm judgement. “Then a new Guild will form and life will continue. Or you could always become King of Thieves.”
Grace heard Thom shift, and when she looked at him she found him staring down at his feet, his hands fisted at his sides. It was a fruitless endeavor to ask him, but she knew how important the Guild was. It was important to her as much as anyone else, but she couldn’t stay at the helm.
“I hear you are heading to Ursana,” Thom said, changing the subject.
“To see my mother, as well as Drake’s coronation. I plan to return to Glenbard once it is all over, but my family from Arganis is sailing down. I need to see them and be assured they are safe.”
Thom looked up and gave her a close-lipped smile, beckoning her closer. She complied and he put an arm around her shoulders.
“I don’t think I will stay in Glenbard myself,” Thom said. “But should I ever return, will I find shelter in your home?”
Grace turned to embrace Thom in a full hug and buried her face in his shoulder. He smelled of sweat and cinnamon; an odd but comforting combination.
“You are always welcome wherever I am,” she said.
~*~*~
Redbank was everything Grace thought it would be. Cold, formidable, dirty, and depressing. Sorrow seemed to seep from the very stones. That so many she knew had been held in the bleak prison made Grace furious. A hot fire flared inside of her as she walked through the prison.
Nicholas acted as the new warden, and he led her along the darkened corridors. He didn’t say much, but would occasionally look over his shoulder at her. She offered him a weak smile each time.
“Here we are,” he said, stopping them before a large oak door. “You are quite sure?”
Grace nodded.
Nicholas unlocked the door and held it open for Grace. “I will be right outside,” he said, cutting his eyes to the figure huddled in the corner, “should you require assistance.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
The door shut with a heavy thud behind her. She looked around the room. A wolf skin rug lay in the center of the floor and there was a polished oak desk with a cushioned chair. A feather mattress, even a copper washtub and basin – Drake spared no expense on his prisoners. This wasn’t even the nicest cell in Redbank.
“Robert,” Grace said.
The huddled figure moved, unfolding himself and standing. Robert of Escion may have lost weight while being locked up in Redbank, but he had lost none of his ferocity. Fire blazed within him still. Grace almost quelled in fear at the sight of him. Almost.
“Come to gloat, Hilren?” His tone dropped like poison into her ears.
“I came to see for myself that you were being taken care of. I have just come from Frederick’s cell as well.”
“You mean ‘His Majesty’,” Robert hissed.
Grace shook her head. “He is the king no more, but he is still a person. And people deserve dignity, even in prison. You are being fed?” She saw a tray on the floor next to the bed. The former duke had picked it clean.
“You came to check on my meals?” Robert laughed and sat on his bed. “The witch of Arganis comes to make sure I am eating? What new devilry do you have up your sleeve?”
She had received a similar reception from Frederick, though the former king didn’t even bother speaking to her. He just glared and mumbled angrily.
“I am here to make sure you are not being mistreated.”
“Is that all? Or did you come to assuage your guilt, witch?”
Grace stiffened at his words, and then balled her fists at her sides and took in a deep breath through her nose. “I came to make sure you were not being mistreated,” she repeated.
“You helped put innocent men in prison. Why don’t you see to your own guilt first before you see to my well-being?” Robert smiled, showing all his teeth, but the smile never reached his eyes. “Treason and witchcraft? You will burn for your crimes one day, in this life or the next. You bring dishonor and devilry to this place.”
“You bring dishonor to Escion and Cesernan, Robert. Your own sons turned against you and the people hate you. You helped plan a fruitless war and starved the citizens of Glenbard. And for what? Power? Petty revenge on behalf of your equally misguided king?”
“Silence, wench!” he roared, his face turning red. Spittle flew from his mouth, all composure lost. “You are a disgraceful bitch!”
“We are all of us disgraceful here. It is not so terrible to be fallen, Robert. Think of it as a chance to better yourself.”
“You will burn, witch!” Robert screamed from the bed, but he didn’t get up. It was all for show now. This tiger had no teeth left to bite with.
Grace knocked on the door and Nicholas opened it for her. She stepped out and bowed to the duke. “I can see myself out.”
“I don’t see why you bothered with the old curmudgeon,” Nicholas said as he locked the cell again. “He just sits there screaming and cursing us all day. He wasn’t going to take kindly to a mercy visit. Especially from you.”
“I just wanted to be sure he was being treated well.” Grace knew if she repeated the lie enough, she would eventually believe it. “Her Grace is waiting for me outside Redbank’s gates. I should be off.”
“I will be along to Ursana myself in a few days. Have a safe journey, Grace.”
Grace bowed to Nicholas and followed the corridor to the stairs, letting herself out.
Why did she even bother with Robert of Escion? He was just like his son, Tristan. He didn’t forget and he didn’t forgive, but at least Tristan acknowledged her assistance in securing Glenbard. Yet Grace needed to see Robert, needed to know she had done right by Glenbard by putting him in Redbank. Frederick and Robert were treated well. Drake wouldn’t allow any harm to come to them before their trials. They were safe, but Grace still felt a pit deep down in her stomach.
Because of Frederick’s folly, people across Cesernan starved. Because of Robert’s blind obedience, Glenbard was in tatters. Their lack of guilt upset Grace. She wept over the dead, friend and foe. Her heart ached that she didn’t save more, while those fools sat unrepentantly in their cells. Grace hoped to find one ounce of grief in them, but instead she found only rage.
The day was already warm when Grace stepped out of the prison. Large white clouds floated through the sky, unaware of the death and destruction that had so recently taken place below. Grace watched a few birds chase each other around the sky and she smiled.
Outside the prison gates, Katherine of Actis waited with several guards dressed in the prince’s livery. She sat on a black gelding, looking like the duchess she was and not the traitor some claimed. A saddled but rider-less white mare stood next to her.
Grace walked over to the mare and mounted. One of the guards called the order to move out and the company turned their horses to the north.
“Are you feeling better?” Katherine asked as they moved along.
“I am not feeling any worse,” Grace answered. She kept her head down, watching the hair betw
een the horse’s ears rustle with the gentle breeze.
“You cannot take on the burden of guilt for men like Robert and Frederick, you know.” Grace could feel Katherine’s eyes on her, but she continued to keep her focus on the back of the horse’s head. “It is undignified to sulk, Miss Hilren.”
Grace immediately straightened at Katherine’s commanding tone. “My apologies, Your Grace.”
“Young lady, you needn’t be so sullen,” Katherine’s voice was like a hammer striking an anvil. Hard, forceful, and commanding. “You have taken part in something here that will be sung about for generations. You have helped overthrow a tyrant.”
Grace shifted in her saddle. Would history really remember it that way? Did it even matter how history remembered it?
“I just worry that perhaps I will be punished for it,” Grace said.
You will burn, witch! Robert had said.
“Punished? By whom?” Katherine snorted her disapproval. It was the most unladylike thing Grace ever saw the duchess do. “Do not let fools fill your head with lies. Now the day is bright, the road is clear, and we are headed to a beautiful future, Miss Hilren. Chin up.”
~*~*~
Deidre smiled and read in the corner of the queen’s solar. She’d been brought to Ursana to use as a bargaining tool against George and Grace, and if not for Queen Bethany’s intervention, Deidre may have been placed in Redbank alongside George. The queen had refused any harm to come to the sickly Deidre. For that, Grace would be eternally grateful.
George sat before the solar’s fireplace, though no fire burned in it today. Calvin and Grace sat at a chess table. Victoria was with Katherine elsewhere. If Grace closed her eyes, she could imagine that things were almost as they should be.
There were tears at first; tears of relief that Grace and George survived, tears of joy that Deidre and Calvin escaped punishment, and tears of sadness that Leon wasn’t with them. Deidre barely understood what happened. To everyone’s relief she didn’t fly into a rage at hearing of Leon’s death, but rather she sang while the rest of the family cried.
Grace looked away from the chessboard to meet Calvin’s eyes. The weeping had subsided, but his eyes were still red, as was his nose. He offered a small smile and looked back at the board. George watched Deidre as she read aloud for everyone. It was peaceful, but sad. Melancholy pervaded the room like a fog. They were all alive, but at what cost?
Feeling a lump in her throat, Grace pushed away from the table. “I will be right back,” she said as she excused herself.
She hurried into the hall, trying to push down her grief, and made for the servant’s stair so no one would see her cry. To her surprise, she found Cassandra and Donald speaking quietly on the landing. They stopped to take her in.
Grace stopped fighting the tears and flung herself into their arms. They caught her up in a hug, crushing the wind out of her.
“My friends,” she said through her sobs. “Where would I be without you?”
Thirty
Drake's coronation was held a month after the king's arrest. Robert and Frederick were kept locked away in the tower of Ursana's castle for the time being. They would stand trial for how they treated the people of Cesernan during the famine. Not all the lords of Cesernan held with Drake's usurping the throne, but the common folk had risen against Frederick. Anyone thinking to fight Drake would first have to quell an uprising among his own people.
Nicholas and Katherine of Actis were the first to swear loyalty to Drake, followed by Tristan, George, and Calvin. Plans were made in Glenbard for the first election of magistrates. The army from Sera was set to work, with the blessing of their lords, to help set the city to rights. Messengers were sent out across the kingdom to let people know Frederick's rule was over. Princess Elisabeth would soon be sent to Sera to marry the queen's heir, as promised. Queen Bethany planned to go into service to the goddess Kamaria, but blessed her son's reign. She stated she wanted peace and nothing more.
Grace was sitting alone in the great hall at the castle of Ursana when Jack strode through the large doors. She smiled at him. They had been honored guests at the coronation.
“I heard Drake offered you a return to your former titles,” Grace said.
“I told him I wanted to think on it. After all, Tristan is heir to Escion now, and he wants it so much more than I do.” Jack sat in the chair next to her and pulled her chair closer to his.
He was a handsome man with his beard and hair trimmed and a red velvet tunic over black trousers. He looked like he could be a fine knight sitting there in such fine clothes. Grace reminded herself he was once a knight. She searched his face for clues as to whether or not he even wanted that life back.
Grace looked down at her own pink velvet gown. She felt odd not having long hair to style with the pretty dress made by Glenda, a silver winged star of Diggery sewn along the skirt. Jack reached up and played with her hair, barely two inches long now.
“I heard you had some offers as well,” he said. He stopped playing with her hair and took her hands, kissing both. “Katherine of Actis offered you a job as one of her ladies. The people of the Lane want you to be the new magistrate, and I heard talk of making you the new warden at Redbank. Shall I go on?”
Grace turned red. “I want none of that.”
“None of it?” he teased, kissing her fingertips. “You could even ask Drake to marry you. I believe he would say yes.”
“I would not dream of it.” Grace pulled her hands away.
“You deserve the praise.”
“I want peace and quiet. I was thinking of journeying to Arganis with Uncle George in a few weeks.”
“Oh?” Jack's face fell. “I suppose you would want to be with your mother and Calvin when they bury your Uncle Leon properly.”
Grace rested a hand on his knee. “I hope you will come with me. Unless you have business here, of course.”
“There is one thing.” He took up her hand again and rubbed her fingers, his hazel eyes focused intently on her. “Cesernan has entered a year of mourning, as dictated by Drake. It seems wrong to celebrate at all while we try to work things out. There will be pockets of resistance and the people are still hungry, but in one year and a day, the period of mourning will be over. Perhaps on that day you would marry me? I waited for so long to have you invite me to Arganis. Then I waited for months at Redbank, my father dangling the promise of you before me. I thought so long of you and only you, and even when I acted in ways that I thought were best for Glenbard, it was only because I knew you would want me to. Now you are before me, real, not some cruel, false promise, and I will follow you wherever you ask me to.”
“Jack, I must confess. For months my mind was occupied with nothing but survival. I barely spared a thought for the people I loved unless they were in front of me. Of course I thought to save you from Redbank, to make sure you were alive and safe, but so many others needed my help first. I cannot claim the same devotion you did.”
“I am but one man, and you are a woman who must right every wrong.” Jack touched her face and tears welled up in her eyes. “I have known this for some time, and I would never fault you for it.”
“A year and a day is a long time.” Her heart swelled. “Do you suppose Drake will give his blessing?”
“Blessing for what?” Grace jumped.
The new king strode into the hall, looking handsome in the robes of his state. They were predominately used for ceremonies, but Drake wore them to take oaths of allegiance.
“A blessing for a wedding,” Jack said. “After the mourning period.”
Drake smiled. “Allow me to host it and I will gladly give my blessing. Don't look so embarrassed, Grace. We will need a great celebration to put an end to the mourning, and a wedding is a wonderful way to start. Now Jack, if I may speak privately to your bride-to-be?”
Jack kissed Grace's forehead and left them. Drake sat in the chair Jack had vacated.
“You won't take your titles from Arganis back, an
d you won't accept the fine house I offered to buy for you in Glenbard. I offer you gold and jewels and you turn it all down. What does the Queen of Thieves and the Death Dealer want from the King of Cesernan?”
“Peace,” she said.
“You won't like it. You will come across an injustice and wish to right it, but that is a good thing. I need knights like you. Unfortunately, I can't properly knight you, but I thought of something else I can do. I need a voice for the common people; not just in Glenbard, but across Cesernan. I will supply travel expenses, armor, and weapons, if needed, and a horse for you, but I would like you to be a voice of reason and justice. An impartial judge, a protector of the common folk.”
“Like I was as the Death Dealer?”
“Aye, only you won't be a vigilante anymore. You will have the crown backing you and my trust that small matters will be handled fairly.”
Grace smiled. She had thought the days of being the Death Dealer were behind her, but now here was a way to continue them. She rose from her seat and dropped to one knee.
“I would be honored, Your Majesty.”
“Good. I will present you to the lords tomorrow.”
~*~*~
Grace wore a black linen gown the following day as she joined others who waited to petition the new king or swear their allegiance to him. Over the dress, Grace wore a new leather jerkin. It smelled of cured leather and didn’t have a scratch or gauge upon it. A sword belt, gilded in silver, hung about her waist, and she wore a necklace bearing Diggery’s winged star symbol.
She waited in the antechamber for the herald to call her forth. The small room had a cushioned velvet couch that was being occupied by a knight and his wife. Sir Tristan, soon to be Duke Tristan of Escion, stood with Grace. He looked her over. She wondered when he would make a snide comment, but none had been forthcoming so far.
“I hear we are to be family soon,” he said at last.
“Indeed we are.” She waited for him to continue with this line of thought.
“I guess if my brother is going to marry a witch, he at least chose one who is useful.”
