By Grace Alone (The Death Dealer Book 2) (5 page)

Six

“You’re losing a day’s pay!” Mayhew hollered after Grace as she threw her apron at him. She declared she no longer felt good and was going home. No one believed her, but no one tried to stop her, either.

Grace visited the public baths to wash the stink off, and when she returned home she borrowed a mirror from the young lady who lived above her. It wasn’t like Grace to spend so much time readying herself, but after the reminder of Jack she decided to look nice for her dinner. Feeling clean and washed, Grace inspected herself in the dirty mirror.

She braided her dark blonde hair. It fell several inches below her shoulders and swung like a pendulum when she moved her head. Her face was pink from the sun, but it wasn’t the ruddy red of sunburn yet. Her nose was a shade darker than the pink on her cheeks. Her ears stuck out slightly, but her hair usually managed to cover it. She smiled at herself. The gray eyes looking back at her were shiny with unshed tears. Grace took in a deep breath to calm herself.

She was still frustrated with Ridley. She was the one person who was supposed to understand Jack no longer had a hold over Grace. It was over. Grace put on a short-sleeved, gray chemise that hung to her waist, and over that she put on a light blue, sleeveless tunic that fell to the floor. She slipped her feet into her new boots. It was time to go.

The city of Glenbard had five districts. There was Golden Road, home of the temples; Merchant’s Way, home to the richest merchants and noble families; Sea Farer’s Street, home to the docks; Serenity Place, inhabited by guards and more well-to-do families; and finally Rogue’s Lane, playground for the Thieves Guild. Living on Sea Farer’s Street and working on Rogue’s Lane, Grace typically didn’t have a reason to venture beyond her borders. The market was located between Golden Road and Merchant’s Way, in the heart of the city.

The sun dipped low in the sky and Grace’s shadow was elongated as she hurried up toward Market Street to meet the good sergeant. The stalls that remained open were trying to peddle their leftover goods. An elderly woman with a dirty apron dangled a cut of beef in Grace’s face as she walked past.

“One copper! A fine deal on a fine cut.” Grace gave the beef a glance. The center was still good, but the edges were browning. She pushed the woman’s hand away gently. “You’ll get a decent meal for your little ones.”

“Good-day, mistress.” Grace smiled politely and moved on. The woman went up to the next passerby.

A man tried to sell her two-day old bread, a little islander girl tried to peddle her wilted orange flowers, and a pregnant young woman around her age worked hard to push a dozen eggs on her. Grace declined each one with a smile and a nod. After running the gauntlet of merchants, she took a seat on the edge of the market’s fountain.

The statue in the middle of the fountain was a boar with great tusks. Water cascaded down on it from the stone tree that was supposed to shade the boar for eternity. Grace put her back to the fountain; letting sprinklings of water dot her neck. She crossed her legs and watched the dwindling crowd.

She spotted Sergeant Moore, outside of his uniform, coming toward her. He was dressed in brown trousers and a green linen cotte, and Grace put a hand over her mouth to hide her giggle. Nathaniel was not as dashing in commoner clothes as he was in his uniform. His hair was free of its ponytail and hung to his shoulders. He smiled upon seeing her.

“Miss Hilren,” he greeted her, and held out a hand to help her up. She took it, enjoying the gallantry of the guard. He kissed the top of her hand.

“Sergeant.” She took her hand back.

As his eyes took her in, she was glad she bothered to visit the baths and scrub herself. He looked to have done the same. “Hungry?”

“Quite.” She wasn’t sure what to say otherwise.

“Well,” he hooked his arm with hers, “I thought perhaps we could go to the King’s Beard. They brew a fine ale.”

The King’s Beard was located in the heart of Serenity Place, and was a favorite place for off-duty guards to enjoy a drink and a warm meal. It was a good thing she’d taken the precaution of telling Thom and Ridley about dinner with Nathaniel. If no one had seen her yet, she’d be caught for sure at the King’s Beard. The Guild always had someone working at the tavern to spy on the Guard. Her every smile and yawn would be reported back to Thom and then to Marcus.

Nathaniel watched her reaction to his suggestion for dinner. She reminded herself that he was a sergeant, and as such would know the Guild had a man in the Guard’s tavern. The Guard also had a man in the Angel. Everyone kept everyone else in check in Glenbard, and right now he was gauging her to see who kept
her
in check.

She smiled and nodded. “I’ve heard they do have the finest ale in the city.” She let him take her arm and lead her toward the King’s Beard.

~*~*~

The smell of fresh bread was a comforting smell of home. The rolls that the serving wench brought had recently been pulled from the oven, and three slices of ham off the bone were sitting next to the rolls with a dollop of butter. She sipped at her soup; a broth with onions and noodles floating in it. The taste lingered on her tongue even after she swallowed and she lifted her mug to take a swig of ale. The soup was too salty for her and too hot for the summer. This would have been more fitting in the heart of winter. Grace wondered that the cook hadn’t collapsed of heat stroke.

“It’s the best brew in the city,” Nathaniel commented when she put her mug down.

Grace wasn’t much for ale, not when red wine was so readily available. The ale he ordered her was almost a meal in itself. It sat heavily in her stomach, right next to the too salty soup. “It’s delicious,” she lied.

When Nathaniel split open a roll, the steam rose up and so did the wonderful smell. She grabbed a roll for herself and bit into it without bothering to add ham or butter. Three men in their guard uniforms passed the table, each patting Nathaniel on the shoulder. The last in the line stopped.

“Sergeant, you can’t take a pretty wench like this one to a better tavern?”

“Constable Trenton.” Nathaniel shook his hand with a slight smirk. “Allow me to introduce you to Miss Grace Hilren.”

Trenton gave Grace the once over. “Glenbard’s serving noblewoman? Here? Well!” He dragged a chair over from another table. “You made quite a stir last summer after you came to the city. Dueling in the King’s Tournament? Ha! Foolish little minx!”

Grace bit her lower lip. She wanted to scowl and kick the constable under the table, but it would be poor form and they might just drag her to the lockup for it.

She had secretly dueled in the tournament when her cousin was injured, but it was a mistake that ruined her life and forced her from her childhood home and her family. It had been months before she was finally accepted, the jokes stopped, and the suspicions ended. Being reminded of things from her past soured her mood, though that wasn’t a difficult thing to do these days. Her moods swung easily, like a pendulum on a clock.

The constable was still rambling on, quite ignorant to her mounting anger, but Nathaniel stopped listening to Trenton to take in Grace’s reaction. “Constable,” Nathaniel cut him off. “We are trying to enjoy a quiet meal. Perhaps you should enjoy your own quiet meal? Away from us?”

“Er…” The constable pushed back from his seat. “Miss Hilren,” he said, bowing to her. “Enjoy your meal.” It was a relief to see him go.

“He seemed nice,” Grace said sarcastically. She put her roll down, suddenly less than hungry.

“I apologize for his insulting behavior, Grace. I can see that you don’t want to talk about how you came to Glenbard, but the city knows and loves your story. Trenton can be a senseless bore, but please don’t let him damper the evening.”

Grace looked around the room. Trenton was by the door, pointing in their direction, whispering excitedly to the other guards. “I suddenly feel very ill here.” The Lane may have accepted her, but obviously this was new territory.

The sergeant’s face fell. “Grace, please don’t let him ruin the evening.”

“Sergeant Moore, I said I feel ill. I would like to go home.”

Grace got up and the patrons of the King’s Beard watched her walk to the exit. They pretended to carry on with their conversations, but everyone was interested in the goings of the fallen noblewoman. They all knew her by name and it was akin to having a princess in their tavern. A real noblewoman had eaten there! Disgraced though she may be, she was born higher than every single one of them. The gossip her mere presence caused would go on for weeks.

The sun was completely gone when she went out. The lamplighters had already come around to light the streets and the pale lamplight cast everything in eerie shadows. She was bathed in the glow of the streetlamps now, but most of her walk home would be in darkness. She turned herself toward home and began to walk; looking forward to getting in a little sleep before going to the Emerald Rose.

“Grace! Wait!” Sergeant Moore hurried up to her.

Grace didn’t stop her stride; rather she picked it up, though she refused to run. People outside the Angel never looked at her without seeing a noble. She was never just
Grace
. Now an entirely different tavern on the other side of town saw only the same.

“Wait!” From the sound of his voice Moore was further behind, not giving too much chase.

“Stupid,” she cursed herself under her breath. When he first mentioned dining with ‘Glenbard’s noblewoman’ she should have turned him down, maybe even slapped him. She just wanted to go home and sleep this embarrassment off.

Grace walked a few more blocks before turning to look behind her. The King’s Beard and Moore were nowhere to be seen. Grace lessened her pace and continued on home.

~*~*~

Nathaniel turned back around when it became clear Grace wouldn’t stop for anyone. Returning to the King’s Beard, he was greeted with an array of cheers and jokes. He strode up to Trenton, eyes flashing, where the constable was seated with his mates.

“Your father is a drunk who sleeps in the reek,” Nathaniel said crossly.

“Something wrong?” Trenton asked innocently; putting his mug on the table and rising.

“How do
you
feel about public embarrassment? I didn’t bring some common wench into this tavern! A fine lady deserves respect, and it’s impolite to bring up such unpleasant topics.”

A serving girl of considerable height and swaying hips grumbled at him, “Common wench, indeed.” She grabbed the empty mugs from the tables around Trenton, his mates, and Nathaniel.

“Apologies, Janice,” Nathaniel replied contritely.

Janice bobbed a mock curtsey. “I’m sorry I can’t be a fancy noblewoman with a slender stick body, hips made for birthing more nobles, and no dirt under my nails.”

“Look – the sergeant’s gone and made poor Janice mad!” Trenton teased.

“I’m sorry, Janice,” Nathaniel repeated.

Janice poked him in the chest with her finger. “She’s not so grand, you know! She’s as fallen as any of us ‘common wenches’ are. Everyone knows that prim little noblewoman used to gallivant around town with Jack Anders. Oh! Not so deserving of your respect now, is she?” she sneered when his frown deepened.

“Anders?” Constable Trenton asked, and cocked his head to one side in thought. “He’s the one who gave you that, right?” The constable pointed to Nathaniel’s scar.

“Could have been anyone in that brawl,” Nathaniel replied, running a finger over the scar.

Nathaniel thought back to that night long ago. Jack Anders had been working with Nathaniel to break up a brawl in the Emerald that night. Plenty of sharp instruments had appeared, which everyone grabbed and used to fight everyone else. Nathaniel nearly lost an eye in the scuffle, and when the dust cleared, a towering Jack Anders was the only person left standing. Nathaniel was young at the time. The rusher probably didn’t even remember him.

Still, it was surprising to hear that Grace had been involved with the man. He gave Trenton a shot to the arm anyway. “Keep the gossip to yourself in front of ladies. Especially before fine women such as Janice.” To show he meant well, he playfully tweaked her nose. She swatted at him but smiled anyway.

~*~*~

Not far from the King’s Beard another guard stopped Grace. He had the scale of the Merchant’s Way guardhouse over his breast with a silver star under it, which meant he was a guard captain.

“Miss Hilren, is it?” Although the captain was balding on top, he had a thick, gray beard that hung down onto his chest.
In a fight it would be a liability
, Grace thought. Anyone with fingers could grab and yank, but being a captain, he probably didn’t worry much about fights; not like the constables and sergeants did.

“May I help you?” she asked; standing resolutely with her hands on her hips.

“I understand you work at the Angel.” Good manners kept Grace from rolling her eyes up into her head. “A piece of advice – it would benefit you to help Sergeant Moore with his inquiries. Those who are willing to help such a fine young man are bound to be rewarded.”

“I have nothing with which to help
or
hinder, Captain...?”

“Ericson.” He proudly ran his fingers through his beard. Grace wanted very badly to pull on it, to yank his head down and box his ears for bothering her.