The Death Dealer - The Complete Series Read online

  Grace stepped into their path and both men stopped. The smaller one, the one who was afraid of The Death Dealer, looked at his boss and took off running the way they had come.

  “Damn coward. Well, I guess it’s just you and me. You don’t look so strong, boy. How about I let you run, and I’ll not say a word?” Grace held her ground and unsheathed her sword to show him she wasn’t going to turn tail and run. The man let out a primal yell and lunged at Grace.

  Thrown off guard, she stumbled backwards against the force of the man’s body. Grace had never encountered someone who jumped into a fight like this. Many people she stood against hesitated a little, and she relied on that hesitation to ready herself for a fight; to move first. She made to slice at him with her sword, but he hit her with the full force of his body before she was ready. The larger man was suddenly on top of her and he gave her a few solid punches in the gut, as well as a few to her face. He knocked the sword clear from her hand. Grace squirmed underneath him and bit his knuckles as he tried to punch her face again. She was lucky the impact didn’t break any of her teeth, and for all the effort, she only managed to peel away some of the skin on his knuckles.

  “You whelp!” he screamed and held Grace down. His hand reached down and produced a dagger. “Not so tough without your little sword are you?” He pinned her down and taunted her with the dagger. “How to start with ya...how to start...?”

  Grace took a deep breath. With every bit of strength she had, she flung her head forward and made contact with the man’s nose. There was a loud crack, he squeaked once, and then fell on top of her heavily. Blood rushed from his nose into Grace’s face as she struggled to get him off of her. Her Uncle Leon once told her that if she was unarmed and in grave danger, the best thing to do was go for the nose. He stated often times it would end in a broken nose, but on rare occasions and with the right amount of force, it could end in death.

  Grace’s hit forced the man’s nasal bones into his brain and he died instantly. Now she had no idea what to do. She sat by the body and shook over the gravity of what she had just done. There was a rush running through her body, but it wasn’t fear; it was something else. She had no idea how long she sat there, but finally Grace dragged herself to her feet and set off running for the castle. By the time she climbed back into her room, the adrenaline wore off and she crashed.

  ~*~*~

  Cassandra entered Grace’s chambers early the next morning, when the sun barely began to show itself to the world. She was still in bed with the covers drawn over her face. “You complain about this heat and here you are, wrapped up in those blankets like it was about to start snowing. Now get up and let’s get you ready for the tournament. You do not want to miss Calvin in the sword competition today.”

  “I am not going,” Grace muttered from under the blankets. “Tell everyone I am ill.”

  “Of course you are going! Now get up.” Cassandra pulled the covers clear off Grace. She yelped a little and quickly clapped a hand over her own mouth.

  Grace’s face was covered in dried blood, the entire right side of her face was one blue and purple bruise, and her right eye was swollen shut. Grace let out a pained whimper and lifted up her jerkin a bit. Her midsection was covered in the same kinds of bruises.

  “All the blood—” Cassandra could hardly find the words. Her voice became nothing more than a raspy whisper.

  “It is not mine. The man…he pulled a dagger. I had to kill him. He just bled all over me and stared at me with these unseeing eyes.” The memory rushed back like a flood. Those eyes would always have the look of surprise in them.

  Cassandra sat on the bed next to Grace and took her hand. “You? You killed him?”

  Grace nodded and her servant looked aghast. How could she explain to her friend that there was barely any regret for killing a man who was going to harm an entire family? She felt remorse for ending another’s life, but not so much knowing she helped a family escape his wrath. Not to mention the fact that he intended to kill her. Cassandra would never understand, but then again, Grace barely understood it herself. After fleeing from the body, she vomited along the side of the road. She killed a man. Trying to justify all the reasons she felt guilty and all the reasons she didn’t caused her a headache. She shivered and Cassandra held her fast.

  The maid stroked her hair. “He’d have killed you,” was all she said.

  Grace didn’t want to ever feel like this again. Next time a man pulled a knife on her, she’d knock him unconscious and tie him to a tree. Killing again was not an option. Her stomach churned at the thought. And to think earlier that evening she found scaring brigands off boring. She would take boring over the alternative now.

  “You cannot just stay in bed all day. Word will get out that The Death Dealer has killed, and when you suddenly do not show up, people will talk. No – you have to go out.” Grace wanted to roll her eyes. Cassandra was playing the fatalist. No one would put those pieces together. However, Grace knew her maid would be on edge all day with paranoia if she didn’t go out. A nervous Cassandra was a greater danger to her than someone figuring out who The Death Dealer was.

  Cassandra rooted through Grace’s things until she found her riding tunic and gown. She ripped bits and pieces off of it and wiped Grace’s face with the rest. “We will take you to the healer, say you were on a ride last night and were thrown into a ditch.”

  “What if the stable hands are questioned?”

  “A few pieces of silver will get them to say anything you like. Hurry up and get dressed and then it is off to the healer with you.”

  ~*~*~

  Calvin’s manservant and Grace’s friend, Donald, went to the stables to talk with the stable hands about Grace’s “fall.” The stable hands did not question Donald or his need for them to lie. They assumed only that this young Grace woman had spoken out of turn and a male relative put her in her place, and now the family was trying to cover it up. These things weren’t all that uncommon. Plenty of other court ladies had suffered from “falls” in the past. While Donald handled one situation, Cassandra took Grace to see the castle healer to handle another.

  He was an old man who looked as though he had lived through every king of Cesernan. He grabbed Grace’s face with his icy hands and she was reminded of death, which brought up the image of those dead eyes again. Her heart beat faster. The healer moved her head this way and that, looking over her bruises carefully.

  “You should have come to me last night when your horse threw you. I could have stopped the swelling on your eye.” He released her face and walked to a cabinet.

  “I did not want to inconvenience you since all your candles were already out. I had no idea I would wake up looking like this.”

  He mumbled to himself as he looked about his cabinets. “When I was young, ladies didn’t go riding after dark. Probably went to meet a lover.” Grace rolled her eyes. The healer turned back to her, holding a small blue bottle. “Take this ointment, apply to your eye every few hours, and by tomorrow the swelling should go down. There’s nothing I can do for those bruises, but in a few days they won’t be as bad.” He handed her the ointment. “You are very lucky to have survived with only a few bruises. I suggest having something done with the horse you were riding.”

  “Thank you, sir.” She curtsied and left his room.

  Cassandra was waiting for her. “Well?”

  “I do not see why I cannot stay in bed. No one will suspect a thing. You are being paranoid about this.”

  “I refuse to take a risk.” Cassandra took Grace by the arm and started to lead her down the hall. “I will do nothing that could possibly put you in the hangman’s sight. You will do as the healer said and you will go to the tournament today. I am going to see how Donald fared with the stable boys. Meanwhile, you stay out of trouble.” Cassandra patted Grace’s shoulder and was gone.

  Grace looked at the blue bottle and sighed. She should have stayed in Arganis. The healer in Arganis wouldn’t have believed she was
off seeing a lover. He’d have scolded her about proper riding techniques and handed over the ointment with a laugh and a smile.

  “I, for one, would like to see how Benjamin fares today against Calvin.” Grace heard voices down the hall. She looked around for a place to hide, but all the doors near her were closed and she didn’t want to discover what was behind them simply to escape conversation. Instead she walked toward the voices; head high, bruises showing proudly.

  To her surprise, Prince Drake and Sir Tristan of Escion rounded the corner and the three came face to face.

  “Good morning, Grace,” Drake said and bowed to her. “My dear lady, what happened to your lovely face?”

  “I was thrown from my horse last night, although it is really not as bad as it looks.”

  “Thrown from your horse?” Tristan said. “Then certainly the beast is not worthy to bear you. Escion is known for breeding the most noble of horses. If it pleases the lady, perhaps I could arrange for a nobler animal for you?” The young knight was looking for any morsel she would throw him. She was able to avoid him the day before, but there was no avoiding him now.

  Drake cut in, saying, “Why go to Escion for a horse when the King’s horses are by far the greatest in the kingdom? We have plenty for you here in Ursana that my father will gladly give away as a present to one so fair.”

  Grace saw exactly what the knights were doing and found the spectacle rather amusing. The men in Arganis saw her as simply Grace; a pleasant girl who was their friend, as well as the only child of their old lord. She was no prize for them. Watching Tristan and Drake vie for her attention and affection was something new for her, but she could not say it was completely unwanted, especially after the way Katherine snubbed her. Forgetting what happened the night before, Grace’s mind returned to Drake’s dancing and Tristan’s kisses.

  Both were handsome, prize-winning knights. Drake was lean and tall, with black hair that hung into his brown eyes. He had a friendly face and she had yet to see him frown. Tristan was equally as lean, but a bit shorter. He let his brown hair grow out a bit longer, yet he was not nearly as friendly-looking as Drake...he had a serious air about him. Grace respected both men as fighters and wondered what they saw in her.

  Grace fought back a bit of laughter and composed herself. “My poor horse is a noble animal who was spooked. There is no need to replace her.”

  “If the lady insists,” Drake said. “Allow me to escort you to the jousting for the day. Your cousin is in the first round against the ‘unbeatable’ Sir Benjamin of Salatia. I am sure you do not want to miss that.”

  Tristan cleared his throat. “But Drake, you are expected for the first round in the archery tournament today. You mustn’t be late. I will escort Lady Grace to the jousting.”

  Grace saw Drake clench his hands, but the smile never left his face. “Right you are, Tristan.” He bowed to Grace. “I shall see you later, my lady.” He stalked away; clenching and unclenching his fists.

  “Shall we?” Tristan held out his arm and Grace gratefully took it.

  “First I must change and put this ointment on.”

  “Of course.” Tristan led her toward the guest wing. “I had hoped to see you yesterday, but it appeared that old man had all your time to himself. That is most unfair to those of us who are young and looking to court.”

  Grace avoided his eyes. She didn’t dislike his attentions, and admittedly he was a handsome man. All the games of the high court world in Ursana were still new to her, though. Succumbing to feelings that weren’t genuine seemed unwise and potentially heartbreaking later. Still, she had no way of knowing how young knights such as Tristan felt about these sorts of things. So rather than sharing her true feelings she only said, “He is a seasoned knight and can shed light on all the traditions and rules of the tournament.”

  “Yes, Henry certainly is a learned man. But please, allow me to entertain you today, even if it be alongside Henry. For you see, Grace, I am quite taken by your beauty, your gift of shyness and of course, your quiet nature. It would break my heart to not spend as many of my waking minutes as possible with you.”

  Tristan stopped walking and turned Grace to face him as he spoke all these words. Flattery…what a strange beast. She searched his face for any signs of insincerity and saw none, but there was a certain hardness and stubbornness in his face. Undecided on Tristan’s exact motives, Grace permitted him to kiss her cheek.

  “Afraid someone will catch us?” he asked; resuming their walk.

  “A reputation is easy to destroy, good sir,” was all Grace said in return, though she was not concerned with that at the moment. She was more interested in understanding Tristan and the feelings he claimed to have for her.

  ~*~*~

  Grace arrived on Tristan’s arm to the jousting ring and scanned the crowds for Henry. A day alone in the company of Tristan was a daunting task, as the young knight didn’t seem concerned about being caught and judged by other nobles. Grace, however, still cared and had no interest in becoming more of a social pariah than she already was. Her search for a chaperone was not in vain. She spotted Henry waving to her from the second row of seats.

  “There is Henry of Egona. Let us sit by him.”

  “As the lady wishes.” Tristan led Grace up to sit by Henry.

  Henry was shocked to see Grace with Tristan. He hoped she would not get involved with the knights of the court. He respected her because she was different from most of the women who turned out for the tournament, but seeing her with Tristan made him sigh inwardly. He feared if she grew fond of a knight like Tristan, and he fond of her in return, then Katherine would easily sink her talons into Grace. He tried to hide his worried face from Grace as she came toward him. No use fretting over something that hadn’t yet come to pass. “Grace dear, have you and Tristan come to join me? Please sit, children.”

  Grace took a seat between Tristan and Henry.

  “Child, I saw your cousin’s manservant, Donald this morning in the stables. He told me about the accident with your horse. I do hope you are all right. It is not nearly as bad as I feared. The way Donald went on, I thought all the bones were broken in your body.” Henry touched one of her bruises gently and then patted her hand. “Though those bruises hide your beauty.”

  “Yes, it is not as serious as Cassandra and Donald are making it out to be; just a scratch.”

  Henry patted her hand lightly again and turned his attention to the ring. “This is going to be an excellent match. Calvin is a real natural at jousting, and Benjamin is one of the King’s best. You should be proud to have your cousin competing against a valiant champion such as Benjamin.”

  “I am proud of him.” Grace paused. “Yet I worry for Calvin at the same time.”

  “Why is that?” Henry asked; his face jovial and his manner merry. Grace wished hers was the same.

  “Have you ever killed anyone, Henry?” Both Henry and Tristan stared at Grace. Nothing could have prepared them for the question she laid before them. Knowing an explanation was needed, she continued. “I ask only because one day, my dear, sweet cousin could go to war, and he may kill or be killed upon a battlefield. I wanted to know, from a seasoned knight, what is waiting for my cousin.”

  “Child...” Henry touched her cheek softly as a father would. “Do you worry no one will mourn Calvin? Obviously you and your kin will, but you should not trouble your mind with these thoughts. They are dark and dreary for this beautiful day Ciro has blessed us with.”

  “The tournament brings to mind thoughts of war. I want to know what sort of pain my cousin will go through if he should have to kill. Can there be remorse for killing an enemy?” Grace truly did wonder about what would happen should Calvin go to war, but now she only wanted absolution for what happened to her in the dark watches of the night.

  “What silly questions, girl!” Tristan attempted a laugh, but a stern look from Henry stopped him.

  “As a knight of this realm, you too should be asking these morality ques
tions, boy,” Henry said. He took hold of Grace’s hands. “When I was twenty, I went to the Nareroc Islands to help quell an uprising. My squire, who was months from earning his shield, was along. An island native nearly killed him when we were taking the night watch over our camp. To save my squire, I slew the man. He was the first man I ever killed. At the time, I told myself he was the enemy and I was right in my action. But as the years have gone by, I think of the man from time to time and wonder who mourned him, and if my action changed their lives. I saved a friend’s life by ending another’s. Sometimes those are the choices before soldiers; to kill in order to save. Should Calvin see war, this will be before him.” Henry forced a smile, though it was a sad one. “Right or wrong, I did what I felt I had to, and no more can be asked of any man. Is your mind somewhat eased?”

  Grace nodded. For right or wrong, she snuffed out the life of a man who threatened someone else. Like Henry, she would now carry the memory until the end of her days.

  Tristan said, “The match is about to begin. I, for one, would like to end this most depressing of conversations while the world laughs around us.”

  “Yes!” Henry laughed. “Whole months are dedicated to death and dying. Let us enjoy these days of merrymaking!”

  As Henry turned his attention away, Tristan slipped his hand over Grace’s. Grace looked at him with raised eyebrows, but Tristan was looking toward the ring where Calvin and Benjamin appeared at opposite ends. Tristan acted as though this was normal. It didn’t feel normal, but Grace said nothing in objection. Strange as it was, it wasn’t unpleasant.

  She turned her attention to the ring; forgetting Tristan’s hand. The herald announced the knights and the two made ready. Grace inhaled deeply and sat upright. This was an important match for Calvin. She had heard from her uncles that a knight’s standing could easily be determined in his first tournament. So far Calvin had won his matches in the joust and sword, but he also competed against lesser noble families and other newcomers to the tournament. A match against Benjamin would show the people what he was really capable of. If he was able to break Benjamin’s lance and score a few points, it wouldn’t matter if he lost. It could possibly show that Calvin was able to hold his own, even with legends like Sir Benjamin of Salatia.