Fallen Grace (The Death Dealer Book 1) (2 page)

And then, of course there was the princess; another great problem plaguing Tristan at the time of the tournament. Princess Elisabeth flirted endlessly with him, and although his parents pushed for him to flirt back, Tristan had no real interest in her. This had not always been the case, however. There was a time when Tristan gladly flirted with Frederick’s daughter. She was beautiful and gracious, but she talked too much and that presented a problem. Tristan wanted a woman who was silent, and who listened more to him than he did to her. That certainly was not Cesernan’s princess.

Tristan sighed loudly as the caravan from Escion entered the castle gates of the King. All the same houses would be there. The high houses of Actis, Escion, and Ursana would be present. The smaller noble houses and baronies such as Egona, Ghilend, and Rewin would be there. Also, country houses from the smallest fiefdoms would have knights in the tournament. The same faces would all be presented, with the exception of a few knights who had just gained their shields. Tristan moved uneasily in his saddle; annoyed at being forced to be present, only to lose the most important event.

Tristan’s mother cast her son an angry glance. “Do not be so moody! And give the Princess some attention this year. I’ll not sit in the queen’s sewing circle and explain why you dodge her.”

“
Mother, please. I cannot spend all my time with the Princess. She is nice enough, but she is not quiet for even a moment.”

“
I do not care. She likes you, and so does King Frederick. Do not hurt your chances of winning his complete favor.”

Tristan rolled his eyes and dismounted his horse. He wanted Frederick’s favor, but the best way to do that was to win the tournament. If he could best Benjamin, he would have the chance to take up as Frederick’s favorite knight; an honor he so richly deserved.

Tristan smiled when he saw Prince Drake coming from the stables. “Drake, you dog.” The prince pulled him into a bear hug. “Good to see you,” Tristan said; stepping back from the Prince. He looked jovial as always.

“
A pity it has to be for the tournament. The same boring tournament where Sir Benjamin always wins. Then my sister always throws herself at him, as do all the young women. And we loser knights are left to wallow in defeat with not even a pretty young girl to comfort us,” Drake said; walking Tristan and his horse toward the stables. “This year is going to be different, though.”

“
Why do you say that?”

“
Because
this
year a knight has come from the Barony of Arganis. The hermit Duke sent his nephew.”

A silence fell between the two friends. “Arganis?” Arganis's former lord had been a great knight. People at tournaments still spoke of him in reverent tones, and any knights who had lived to see him compete gladly tipped their hats in his honor. Tristan was unaware of any man in the Arganis house who was of an age to win his shield.

“Lord Daniel had two brothers, if you remember. George and Leon,” Drake explained. “The older brother George took over the governance of Arganis when Daniel died, but his younger brother Leon has a son who trained and became a fine knight. He just entered knighthood and is ready to compete.”

Tristan had a few fleeting memories of this boy from Arganis, if Drake was speaking of Calvin Hilren, at least. He remembered him serving as a squire while Tristan was preparing to take his trials and become a knight. They were two, maybe three years apart, but Tristan never mingled with him. He was a squire when Calvin was a page, and it always seemed beneath him to mingle with pages.

“Well then,” he said, “why should that change the tournament this year? Newly knighted men compete every year, and it is never of any interest. Don’t you remember our first year? Beaten in our first rounds of the joust.”

“
This knight is said to be of – shall we say – a higher quality than others. Rumors have been buzzing about for days that his father is one of the finest swordsmen in Cesernan, as well as a fine weapons trainer. Certainly that sort of gift passes from father to son.”

“
Perhaps it
was
worth coming out to the tournament this year. We shall have to see if this Arganis knight can live up to the rumors that surround him.” If nothing else, this new knight would provide some new blood to the tournament.

~*~*~

Grace Hilren had only been to Ursana once in her life, at the age of seven; her father’s last tournament. That was nearly ten years ago, but things were much as she remembered. She even suspected she was in the same room as before. There were two beds in the room: one great, queen-sized one and a small cot pushed into the corner. As a child, she shared the room with Cassandra. Now at seventeen, she still shared the room with her loyal handmaiden.

The young woman opened the shutters to let the room air out a bit. It was warmer in Ursana, where the king kept his palace, than it was in Arganis. Grace was unused to such sweltering heat this early in spring. At her home it was probably a calm, windy day, perfect for walking about the grounds of Arganis castle.

Arganis was not as rich as some of the other provinces, but it was the most beautiful. Its vast forests and large pine trees were renowned as the best for ship building. Then there was the snow. Snow rarely fell more than to provide a soft blanket on the ground. But when snow did cover the land, the pine trees were at their most beautiful. No other area in Cesernan could boast such beauty.

Right now in her home, the weather was pleasant; certainly not too cold and far from hot. Ursana was different. Spring had only just begun, and Grace already felt as though the blistering heat of summer hit her. This place was loud and too much of a change from the peaceful forests of Arganis.

“A change will do you good,” Uncle Leon said. He always insisted he knew what would do her good without asking her first. “You’ll see the palace again, and you may be able to take a few days and venture into Glenbard. A young girl like you should be looking to buy pretty dresses, not hiding yourself in the forests.”

She sighed. It had been so long since she was away from home. The last time she really ventured anywhere was just before her father’s death. Her father had been a lord and a well-respected knight in the halls of King Frederick. Some years past, her father died after being thrown from his horse. His neck was broken from the fall and he died instantly.

As a woman, her mother was deemed unfit to take control of Arganis by Cesernan law, and therefore married her husband’s brother and allowed him to govern. Her mother became like a ghost. She barely left her room. She just sat there and lamented for her dear, dead husband.

After her father’s death, Grace felt as though her life was a dream. Each day she wandered aimlessly around the castle in Arganis, not speaking or interacting with anyone. Her childhood friends and servants, Cassandra and Donald, were her touch with reality. They feared greatly that she was becoming a ghost like her mother.

It wasn’t until Grace turned ten that she awoke from her dream, during a ride through the woods with Donald. He often took Grace out for long rides to see to it that she didn’t rot away in the castle amongst the memories of her father. On this particular ride, they came upon a young girl being bullied by some men. Donald scared them off, but Grace sat there, unable to do anything. She hadn’t so much as called for help. She realized then that her grief for her father had lasted too long, and she needed to help others whose grief was still near. Grace decided to be selfish no more.

“
I shall take up the banner of our guardsmen,” she boasted proudly. She strutted about the castle with a wooden sword. “And I’ll drive the bandits off.”

“
Our little Grace is quite a feisty one,” servants and guards said. They patted her on the head and sent her to play elsewhere.

Her uncle Leon, the master at arms in Arganis, worked with Grace the same way he worked with the village boys. Leon believed the women of Arganis needed to defend themselves, so he trained some of the village girls as well. While most of the girls were just interested in learning the basics of defending themselves, Grace was interested in weaponry. When all the other girls left, she stayed behind with the village boys to learn sword techniques.

Grace continued by herself to learn the finer techniques with a sword. When she felt she was finally ready, Cassandra helped sew an executioner’s hood for her and Grace had a leather jerkin made to fit her small form. It was barely a year ago when she first became what people these days were calling The Death Dealer. She was not fond of the name, but there was little she could do to change that.

She adopted a completely different persona as The Death Dealer. The Death Dealer didn’t care for names like Grace Hilren did. Rather, The Death Dealer had one goal: to see to the rescue of those who needed it. Life was different under the hood.

~*~*~

Grace looked out onto the rolling hills of Ursana. She looked past the king’s grounds and the town beyond toward the hills. They were a comfort in the hectic world of the court. The chief palace of King Frederick was larger than all of the grounds for the Arganis castle, as well as the town that was placed there. The town that surrounded the palace was a bustling place, even more so with the tournament beginning. The whole experience was overwhelming for Grace. Calvin had insisted that she come with him to the king’s tournament. He felt it would do her some good to get away from her mother and mingle outside her usual circle. Grace disagreed. There was little the nobles could offer her. She sighed and looked away from the window. The room was empty, leaving Grace with an uncomfortable feeling. For a palace housing so many noble houses, everything was far too quiet. She should be able to hear others milling about outside her room.

She crossed the room and unlocked one of her trunks. The black jerkin and hood looked back at her. She pulled out the hood and put it over her left hand, her sword hand. “You have already become a legend,” she whispered to the hood. The empty eye holes stared back at her. “How does that make you feel?”

A loud rap at the door caused Grace to jump. Footsteps she hadn’t even heard approached her quarters. She quickly stashed the hood back into her trunk and slammed the lid shut. “Come in,” she called to the knocker.

The plump frame of Cassandra opened the door, much to Grace’s relief. Her maid was a young woman of nineteen, with a noticeable fondness for sweets. Still, Cassandra had a soft face with a perfect nose and stunning hazel eyes. Her auburn locks were pulled into a tasteful and practical bun. “Milady, they are calling for everyone to come down to the feast. The King had it specially prepared for the knights on the eve of the tournament. Calvin sent me to find you and yet here you are, unready to go. You’re going to be late.”

Grace let out a groan she tried hard to suppress. Cassandra looked at her lady and shook her head. She knew Grace Hilren better than anyone, which meant she knew what Grace wanted to do rather than feast at the King’s table.

Cassandra softly closed the chamber door and moved closer so Grace would hear her whisper. “There will be plenty of time for that later. Right now you are expected at the feast, and there is no time to change into proper dinner attire. You will just have to go as you are.”

Cassandra gave Grace a once-over. The girl had not even bothered to put her hair up. Her dark blonde locks fell past her shoulders, and it looked as though Grace hadn’t even taken the time to brush them out since waking up. Her simple dress was forest green with a faded gold trim. The other women of the court would look at young Grace as though she were little more than a servant, but there was no time to change her look. Cassandra blamed herself. If she hadn’t been taking in the castle, she would have seen to it that Grace was getting ready for the feast.

“Brush your hair, at least.”

Grace scoffed and grabbed her brush off the dresser. A few brush strokes made a world of difference. She looked less like a vagabond now. Cassandra took out a sash made to match Grace’s dress. “Put your arms up.” Cassandra tied the sash around her lady’s waist and arranged it as best she could. “Say it’s all the fashion in Arganis. Hurry up – your cousin is waiting for you so he may escort you to dinner.”

~*~*~

Calvin looked as though he belonged among the court nobles. His light brown hair was cut short and combed neatly, mirroring the style of most of the other young men at court. He was full of pride for his role as knight and he moved about with ease; making small talk where it was needed. His tunic was a rich blue color, and he displayed the silver hawk of Arganis proudly on his chest as he greeted the other nobles. Grace clung to his arm and allowed him to lead her to dinner. She never thought her cousin was one for such social gatherings, but it appeared now that perhaps he did belong here. On the other hand, she looked nothing like the other ladies. Calvin may have the ability to blend in, but she lacked such a talent. Grace wasn’t interested in any of this anyway. She hoped Calvin would allow her to leave as soon as the feast was over.

“Young Calvin of Arganis?” An older woman snaked through the crowd and stopped before Grace and Calvin. Grace immediately disliked her. Her eyes were condescending as she looked at Grace. Her smile was fake and her tone of voice made Grace think one word: patronizing. The servants back home, as well as her Uncle Leon, warned Grace that ladies from high noble houses were different from the country ladies in Arganis. She understood those words a little better after one glance at the woman before her. Her graying brown hair was covered by a sheer white veil. The stunning red gown she wore had an elaborate silver trim that flourished on her dress’s skirt; making beautiful, intricate knots. She wore fine silver jewelry and ruby earrings. Grace was duly impressed by the woman’s attire, but she quickly gathered that was the most interesting thing the woman had to offer the room.