Read Online By Divine Right by Patrick W. Carr - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Patrick W. Carr
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second skin they can scarcely remove, more’s the pity.” She turned to her sister. “He is at work for the castellan,” she said in tones that barely reached my ears.
Kera eyed me with renewed interest, her smile growing as she returned Gael’s silver. “Well played, sister.”
Chapter 7
Their conclusion stood too close to the truth. Without waiting for dismissal I turned, hoping to serve the duke and his kinsmen before Gael and Kera exposed me. I should have looked behind me first. Before I’d taken my first step, I crashed into a tall figure dressed all in red. The flagon tumbled from my hands to crash on the floor, threading dissonance through the strains of music in the hall.
“Watch where you’re going, fool!”
I bent to pick up the flagon, scarcely taking it in my grip before hands hauled me up to face the man I’d bumped. “Your Grace, here is sport,” the man called to the duke. “This servant presumes to judge your character.”
A hole opened in my midsection, and most of my guts disappeared into it. I was a fool, allowing myself to speak my mind out loud, and in the throne room of all places.
For a moment, Duke Orlan appeared on the verge of approaching where I stood, but he cut his eyes toward his audience and with a practiced gesture summoned his man and me to approach. I looked into a smile that only emphasized the absence of compassion or empathy in his eyes. His perfect face might have been carved from marble for all the warmth or humanity it possessed.
“Someone has been lax in your training. Consider yourself fortunate that you’ve caught my notice.” He nodded to his man. “Release him.” He clucked his disapproval at the noble I’d backed into. “Wine stains on a perfectly good doublet.”
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Gael and Kera go pale. “Your Grace,” Gael said as she curtsied. “I found myself amused by this servant’s presumption.” To her credit, the laugh she assayed held all the mockery and derision one would expect from a noble. “I’m afraid our conversation startled him into bumping into your man.” She turned to me. “You are dismissed, servant.”
Orlan offered her a condescending smile for her effort. “Still playing your game, ladies? Servants are paid to be invisible.”
“Come, brother,” the man on Orlan’s right said. “The servant can hardly be held to account for their wager.”
Gael nodded, grasping at the opportunity. “Yes. His limited intelligence offered a moment’s diversion from the tedium of court.”
I cowered as any servant would have—fear of the duke’s reprisal made the effort genuine enough—but my gaze flew everywhere at once, searching the duke’s group for anyone who might have stolen Ian’s gift. But they all stood still, a rapt audience for the duke’s spectacle.
I bowed my thanks to the Lady Gael for covering my indiscretion, but inside I railed. Once the chamberlain learned of my blunder he would never allow me back into court. I turned to leave.
“Hold!” The duke’s voice, threaded with cold amusement, stopped me. “ I have not dismissed you, servant.” Around him, I heard titters of laughter at my predicament. More nobles gathered until we were ringed about, but none of them betrayed by motion or expression any indication that they held an unlawful gift.
The duke cast a sneer toward his brother. “You are too forgiving, brother.” He sighed. “Such a disappointment. Yet I suppose your soft nature is becoming to the second born, a mere marquis.” His smirk encompassed a rapt audience. “Perhaps a gift of helps has come to you unaware?” More laughter greeted this jibe, but the duke’s brother merely dipped his head in acknowledgment, the gesture of a man so familiar with disdain that it no longer carried the power to sting.
The duke turned his smile to me. “Servant, my goblet is empty.” The duke held it out to me with his left hand. Gael flinched, her arm reaching toward me as if
Kera eyed me with renewed interest, her smile growing as she returned Gael’s silver. “Well played, sister.”
Chapter 7
Their conclusion stood too close to the truth. Without waiting for dismissal I turned, hoping to serve the duke and his kinsmen before Gael and Kera exposed me. I should have looked behind me first. Before I’d taken my first step, I crashed into a tall figure dressed all in red. The flagon tumbled from my hands to crash on the floor, threading dissonance through the strains of music in the hall.
“Watch where you’re going, fool!”
I bent to pick up the flagon, scarcely taking it in my grip before hands hauled me up to face the man I’d bumped. “Your Grace, here is sport,” the man called to the duke. “This servant presumes to judge your character.”
A hole opened in my midsection, and most of my guts disappeared into it. I was a fool, allowing myself to speak my mind out loud, and in the throne room of all places.
For a moment, Duke Orlan appeared on the verge of approaching where I stood, but he cut his eyes toward his audience and with a practiced gesture summoned his man and me to approach. I looked into a smile that only emphasized the absence of compassion or empathy in his eyes. His perfect face might have been carved from marble for all the warmth or humanity it possessed.
“Someone has been lax in your training. Consider yourself fortunate that you’ve caught my notice.” He nodded to his man. “Release him.” He clucked his disapproval at the noble I’d backed into. “Wine stains on a perfectly good doublet.”
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Gael and Kera go pale. “Your Grace,” Gael said as she curtsied. “I found myself amused by this servant’s presumption.” To her credit, the laugh she assayed held all the mockery and derision one would expect from a noble. “I’m afraid our conversation startled him into bumping into your man.” She turned to me. “You are dismissed, servant.”
Orlan offered her a condescending smile for her effort. “Still playing your game, ladies? Servants are paid to be invisible.”
“Come, brother,” the man on Orlan’s right said. “The servant can hardly be held to account for their wager.”
Gael nodded, grasping at the opportunity. “Yes. His limited intelligence offered a moment’s diversion from the tedium of court.”
I cowered as any servant would have—fear of the duke’s reprisal made the effort genuine enough—but my gaze flew everywhere at once, searching the duke’s group for anyone who might have stolen Ian’s gift. But they all stood still, a rapt audience for the duke’s spectacle.
I bowed my thanks to the Lady Gael for covering my indiscretion, but inside I railed. Once the chamberlain learned of my blunder he would never allow me back into court. I turned to leave.
“Hold!” The duke’s voice, threaded with cold amusement, stopped me. “ I have not dismissed you, servant.” Around him, I heard titters of laughter at my predicament. More nobles gathered until we were ringed about, but none of them betrayed by motion or expression any indication that they held an unlawful gift.
The duke cast a sneer toward his brother. “You are too forgiving, brother.” He sighed. “Such a disappointment. Yet I suppose your soft nature is becoming to the second born, a mere marquis.” His smirk encompassed a rapt audience. “Perhaps a gift of helps has come to you unaware?” More laughter greeted this jibe, but the duke’s brother merely dipped his head in acknowledgment, the gesture of a man so familiar with disdain that it no longer carried the power to sting.
The duke turned his smile to me. “Servant, my goblet is empty.” The duke held it out to me with his left hand. Gael flinched, her arm reaching toward me as if
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