Read Online Crown Jewel by Megan Derr - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Megan Derr
Tags: General Fiction
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back around and rejoined them on the floor. "Poison."
Lazzaro did not reply, too busy examining Santino, desperate for a way—any way—to keep him alive. "Watch him!" He stood up and ran through the house to his kitchens, searching for the cook. "Rosa!"
"Your grace!"
"Santino has been poisoned," Lazzaro cut in. "The wine, where did you get the wine?"
A look of horror overtook her face, and she started crying. "Came this morning, your grace, same as ever. But—but—but—"
"But what?" Lazzaro asked with a patience he did not feel.
"It was not Tomas who delivered it. The man who did said Tomas was sick."
Lazzaro swore softly. "What did he look like?
Rosa wiped her face with her apron. "Tall. Handsome. Dark skin, dark hair. Clean. He took the money you gave me to give the wine shop. Signed the receipt and everything!" She went over to her little desk and fluttered over the papers there for a moment, then finally handed him the receipt that Santino had written out just that morning.
Lazzaro's blood ran cold as he stared at it—then shot straight back to boiling. At the bottom of the receipt, in a short, brisk hand, was the name Marco .
He would know that handwriting anywhere. It had been his first clue that something more was afoot with the murder of his mother and three other nobles. Each one had received on the day of their death a delivery of some sort—wine, brandy, medicine, candy. Each had a receipt written in that very same hand. Lazzaro had visited each shop, only to be told that something had happened to their delivery persons—two were mugged, one was killed, another drugged. It had seemed to him that the killer played some sort of game by delivering the poisons in such fashion.
Lazzaro balled the receipt into his fist—then forced himself to smooth it out, fold it up, and tuck it away in his jacket. Leaving the kitchen, he headed for the front hall and snatched up his coat, hat, and gloves, then bolted from the house and through the city. Unable to simply walk, he ran, dodging most people, but shoving others out of his way. He reached the Entertainment Quarter and made straight for the Jewel District. Once there, he increased his pace still more, until at last he reached the House of Peace.
When Lazzaro finally reached it, he was sweaty, exhausted, panting for breath, red-faced, and burning hot. The guard's eyes widened upon seeing him, hand going to his sword. He drew it as Lazzaro got closer—and fell like a stone as Lazzaro punched him in the gut, then across the jaw. Shoving the unconscious guard aside, Lazzaro strode into the House of Peace.
There were half a dozen jewels loitering in the front room and they all fell silent when they saw him. "Where is Celeste?"
"Upstairs," said a woman with skin like cream and bright green eyes. Although she did not elaborate on what he was doing upstairs, her insinuation was clear. "You are not allowed on the premises."
"The guard!" Someone out in the hall bellowed, then a young man spilled into the parlor. "Someone—you—" He snarled as he saw Lazzaro and realized he must have taken out the guard. He drew a dagger and lunged.
Lazzaro grabbed him, twisted his wrist to make him drop the knife, and shoved him up against the wall before drawing his own main gauche. Raising his voice so they could all hear him, he said, "If Celeste is not brought to me in two minutes, I will arrest everyone in the House of Peace for conspiring and attempting to assassinate the Duke of Nascimbeni, acknowledged bastard son of the King. I want Celeste and I want him now . "
"I'll get him," the green-eyed woman said, glaring as she stalked past him. A heavy silence fell in her wake, hostility thick enough he could all but taste it.
Santino was probably dead by now, and if Benito had taken a sip…it made Lazzaro cold with fear all over again. They could be as angry with him as they liked; he wanted answers and he would have them.
Lazzaro turned toward the door at the sound
Lazzaro did not reply, too busy examining Santino, desperate for a way—any way—to keep him alive. "Watch him!" He stood up and ran through the house to his kitchens, searching for the cook. "Rosa!"
"Your grace!"
"Santino has been poisoned," Lazzaro cut in. "The wine, where did you get the wine?"
A look of horror overtook her face, and she started crying. "Came this morning, your grace, same as ever. But—but—but—"
"But what?" Lazzaro asked with a patience he did not feel.
"It was not Tomas who delivered it. The man who did said Tomas was sick."
Lazzaro swore softly. "What did he look like?
Rosa wiped her face with her apron. "Tall. Handsome. Dark skin, dark hair. Clean. He took the money you gave me to give the wine shop. Signed the receipt and everything!" She went over to her little desk and fluttered over the papers there for a moment, then finally handed him the receipt that Santino had written out just that morning.
Lazzaro's blood ran cold as he stared at it—then shot straight back to boiling. At the bottom of the receipt, in a short, brisk hand, was the name Marco .
He would know that handwriting anywhere. It had been his first clue that something more was afoot with the murder of his mother and three other nobles. Each one had received on the day of their death a delivery of some sort—wine, brandy, medicine, candy. Each had a receipt written in that very same hand. Lazzaro had visited each shop, only to be told that something had happened to their delivery persons—two were mugged, one was killed, another drugged. It had seemed to him that the killer played some sort of game by delivering the poisons in such fashion.
Lazzaro balled the receipt into his fist—then forced himself to smooth it out, fold it up, and tuck it away in his jacket. Leaving the kitchen, he headed for the front hall and snatched up his coat, hat, and gloves, then bolted from the house and through the city. Unable to simply walk, he ran, dodging most people, but shoving others out of his way. He reached the Entertainment Quarter and made straight for the Jewel District. Once there, he increased his pace still more, until at last he reached the House of Peace.
When Lazzaro finally reached it, he was sweaty, exhausted, panting for breath, red-faced, and burning hot. The guard's eyes widened upon seeing him, hand going to his sword. He drew it as Lazzaro got closer—and fell like a stone as Lazzaro punched him in the gut, then across the jaw. Shoving the unconscious guard aside, Lazzaro strode into the House of Peace.
There were half a dozen jewels loitering in the front room and they all fell silent when they saw him. "Where is Celeste?"
"Upstairs," said a woman with skin like cream and bright green eyes. Although she did not elaborate on what he was doing upstairs, her insinuation was clear. "You are not allowed on the premises."
"The guard!" Someone out in the hall bellowed, then a young man spilled into the parlor. "Someone—you—" He snarled as he saw Lazzaro and realized he must have taken out the guard. He drew a dagger and lunged.
Lazzaro grabbed him, twisted his wrist to make him drop the knife, and shoved him up against the wall before drawing his own main gauche. Raising his voice so they could all hear him, he said, "If Celeste is not brought to me in two minutes, I will arrest everyone in the House of Peace for conspiring and attempting to assassinate the Duke of Nascimbeni, acknowledged bastard son of the King. I want Celeste and I want him now . "
"I'll get him," the green-eyed woman said, glaring as she stalked past him. A heavy silence fell in her wake, hostility thick enough he could all but taste it.
Santino was probably dead by now, and if Benito had taken a sip…it made Lazzaro cold with fear all over again. They could be as angry with him as they liked; he wanted answers and he would have them.
Lazzaro turned toward the door at the sound
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