Chapter 16
Just thinking of him as the rapist felt odd. I sensed no danger when near him. He didn't repulse me or make me want to flee. Yet who else could it be? He couldn't be accounted for.
Even as I thought it, I realized how many other servants probably couldn't be accounted for either. I'd never felt threatened by Zeke, yet he was now a suspect. Shouldn't every other male in the palace also be a suspect if they couldn't account for their whereabouts on the nights of the three rapes?
I continued north, crossing the inner forecourt near the palace's main entrance. I was focusing on the puzzle at hand rather than my way and almost barreled into a lady stepping off the stairs.
"Josie!" Kitty cried. "Be careful or you'll crush my gown, and there's nothing worse than crushed silk. It's simply the worst." She smoothed down her skirts, even though I'd not touched her.
"My humblest apologies, your grace," I said, curtseying.
"How many times do I have to ask you to call me Kitty?" She hooked her arm with mine, proving that she didn't care about her silk after all—or that she might be seen with me. "It's a little late for riding."
"Pardon?"
"That is why you're here, isn't it? To take me up on my offer of riding lessons?"
She'd be upset to learn my first solo ride had taken place without her a mere hour earlier, so I decided not to tell her. "I'm on my way to speak to the captain," I said, eyeing the direction I had to take. I shouldn't linger, but how to extricate myself without seeming rude?
"The captain again?" she said slyly. "Can we expect an announcement soon?"
I choked, half laughing, half protesting, earning me a scowl from Kitty. "It's not like that between us. It's… Never mind. Shouldn't you be on the other side of the palace or dining with the king?"
An ensemble of stringed instruments had struck up a gentle tune while we talked. I was reminded of the last time I'd heard music at the palace, on the night of the ball. The musicians had not been visible from any of the gardens or paths, and their music seemed to fall from the stars themselves. Balthazar had told me the musicians had simply been hidden well, but in a place such as this, it seemed magic must have played a part.
"Actually, I'm meeting Miranda here," Kitty whispered as she steered me toward the fountain on the large forecourt. There were only two guards on patrol and a handful of nobles strolling in pairs, but it was quite open and not a good place to have a secret rendezvous. A quiet chat with a friend, however, wouldn't raise attention. "I have something to tell her."
"Palace gossip?" I asked, glancing back over my shoulder in the direction I should be heading. Movement in the shadows at the far end of the northern pavilion caught my eye, but whoever was there wasn't close enough to hear us.
"Oh, all right, I'll tell you too," Kitty said.
I pressed my lips together to suppress both my smile and a protest that I hadn't asked her to share the gossip with me. I was beginning to think that Kitty liked company—any company, even mine. What must her life be like at home, living with an aging husband who'd been in love with another for much of his life? Kitty may have an easy life, but I didn't envy her.
"You see, it's a little dull here for ladies like us," she began.
"Ladies like you?"
"Who aren't interested in the king. We have nothing better to do than play cards or stroll around the garden. We aren't really supposed to ride off alone, but as long as the king doesn't mind, and my husband doesn't find out, we can. Of course, the parties are fun but one can't indulge too often or one will grow fat. So we've taken up a hobby."
"Do you mean riding in the forest?"
"No, silly. Magic."
I stared at her. "Magic has become your hobby?"
"Not performing it." She laughed, a girlish giggle that she hid behind her gloved hand. "We want to find out if the palace was made by magic. You know the rumors, of course."
"I do."
"We thought we'd try to find evidence of it. Isn't that fun?"
"It might be dangerous," I said carefully.
Before I could explain, she said, "Nonsense. All we do is ride around, looking for signs of magic."
"What sort of signs?"
Her brow creased in thought. "That's the problem. We don't know what we're looking for. So far we haven't found anything. Well, there was a shiny object in the bushes, but on closer inspection, it turned out to be a ring someone had lost. Anyway, we've had such fun looking. I do adore riding through the forest, although Miranda does go too fast sometimes. You must learn to ride too so you can come with us, Josie. We'll have such a laugh investigating together."
I nodded and smiled, torn between warning her and letting her go on her innocent way, thinking there was nothing dangerous in searching for the truth about the palace's origins.
She tried to draw even closer to me, but it was impossible with her broad skirts and voluminous sleeve. She was dressed in yellow tonight, with a diamond pattern embroidered in gold thread across the bodice and at the hem. With a large yellow pendant dangling from a gold chain nestled on the swell of her breasts, and gold armbands above her glove and more yellow gems dangling from her ears, she was a beacon in the night. She wasn't dressed for clandestine investigating.
She gave up trying to get closer and instead tilted her head and whispered, "I came across something quite by chance. That's why I sent a message to Miranda to meet me here. I think it might be important."
"What is it?"
"Promise not to tell. Not even your captain of the guards."
I ignored the implication that he was mine and said, "As long as it's not necessary to tell him, I won't."
Her brow momentarily creased again then I felt her shrug, even though her shoulders didn't seem to move. Despite her empty-headedness, she was graceful to her bones. "I overheard my husband and the duke of Buxton talking about the Vytill man."
"Lord Barborough?"
"The very same. And hear this, Josie, you will be amazed." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Apparently, he's an expert on magic." She paused, nodding earnestly. "What do you think of that?"
"I think it interesting."
"It is, isn't it? He has written a book and even been to Zemaya." She made it sound as if it were a different world when it wasn't uncommon for Fist folk to travel to Zemaya. My father, for one, had visited in his youth. "That's not all—and this is the most shocking part—Buxton says the only reason Barborough's here as the official representative of Vytill is because he killed the man who was supposed to come."
"Are you sure?"
"Buxton sounded sure. I heard him myself."
"Does he know you were listening in?"
"Hailia, no. Nor does my husband. Neither were aware I was napping in the next room, and do not tell them, Josie."
"I don't intend to. How does the duke of Buxton know that Barborough killed the man who was supposed to represent King Phillip's interests?"
"He has spies in Vytill, of course. Everyone does, and Dreen and Freedland too, and all of those countries will have spies here." She hugged my arm and giggled again. "You village girls are so naive. It's rather quaint."
I was about to make a snippy retort, but she was right. Until I'd become embroiled in palace politics, I'd never given such things a second thought. I had been ignorant of the ways of kings and nobles, their plots and manipulations. For someone who prided herself on knowledge, of all kinds, I didn't wish for that ignorance again, even though my life had been simpler.
"Why is the duke of Buxton sharing the information with your husband?" I asked, all innocence. "Don't they dislike one another?"
"It's true they don't get along, but they meet from time to time, in either our apartments or his."
It would be so easy for me to ask her to eavesdrop on more of their conversations, then pass any information onto the Deerhorns. But I would not. For one thing, I wouldn't help the Deerhorns with anything, and more importantly, if Kitty was discovered, her husband might mistreat her. I'd caught him hurting Lady Claypool, and he'd claimed to love her. What would he do to his young, foolish wife?
So it was true, just as Dane, Balthazar and Theodore suspected. The dukes had joined forces to prove King Leon shouldn't be on the throne because he'd used magic to get it. It seemed the dukes also suspected that Vytill had the same aim. I wondered if they were aware that Barborough had a second task while here—stirring up trouble in Mull.
"So what do you think of that, Josie?" Kitty asked. "Isn't it a good piece of information?"
"It is," I said. "But you must be careful not to be caught listening in to conversations."
She didn't seem to be listening to me. She'd caught sight of Miranda, coming down the palace steps, and waved at her.
Miranda joined us, all smiles. "Am I missing the party?" She was dressed all in blue with her hair unbound to declare her unmarried status. Unlike Kitty, she wore very little jewelry, just one golden band on her finger and small earrings.
"The party doesn't begin until you're here, dearest Miranda," Kitty said, taking her friend's hand. "Do come and listen to what I've just told Josie. It's most interesting."
She repeated her information about Lord Barborough. Miranda was quite speechless by the end. Clearly she hadn't known about Barborough's interest in magic and was appalled at the suggestion that he'd killed another to win the position of representative. She didn't seem surprised to hear the dukes were collaborating, however. Like Kitty, she was more worldly than me, and she must have known they had joined forces. Perhaps she even discussed it with her parents.
"So what shall we do with this information?" Kitty asked.
"Nothing," both Miranda and I said together. She looked at me and I could see she had realized the danger Kitty had stumbled into.
Kitty pouted. "Why not? We could spy on Lord Barborough—"
"No!" Miranda said, slicing her hand through the air. "We do nothing, Kitty. Do you understand? We can keep looking for signs of magic around the palace, but we will not approach Barborough or anyone from Vytill. Nor will you discuss it with your husband."
"But this is such a good opportunity to learn more."
Miranda clasped Kitty's arms and met her gaze. "If he killed his rival, he is not a nice man. He's ruthless. What do you think he'd do if he learned two Glancia ladies are inquiring about magic?"
Kitty looked as if she was about to cry, so stern was Miranda. "I don't know."
"Nor do I, but I do know we can't trust him."
"He might use you to find out more," I said. Kitty blinked big, watery eyes at me, and Miranda's pinched at the corners as she studied me. "He might use you to spy on the king for him." As soon as I said it, I was quite sure it was precisely what Barborough would do.
"We wouldn't do that," Kitty said.
"You might, if he threatened to tell the king that you were investigating his link to magic."
Miranda pressed her fingers to her lips and her other hand to her stomach. "She's right," she said to Kitty. "Think about what the king would do if he heard we were looking for that link, what it would mean for his claim to the throne if we found a link."
Kitty gasped. "Oh! Yes, I see now. You're right. If we discovered the throne was gained with the aid of magic, he shouldn't be king." She glanced around then put her hand over her heart to swear an oath. "I promise the god and goddess not to breathe a word about this to anyone. Swear it, Miranda."
Miranda repeated the oath then both women turned grim faces to me. I swore the oath too.
"Now, I must go," I said. "I shouldn't have lingered so long."
"You're not going home?" Miranda asked, as she and Kitty fell into step with me.
"Not yet. I need to speak to the captain about something."
Kitty nudged Miranda with her elbow. "Of course you do, Josie. I'm sure it's very important."
Miranda smiled, but it was half-hearted. Like me, her mind was probably elsewhere, not on romantic liaisons.
We crossed the large forecourt, their heeled shoes click clacking on the paving stones, until we reached the end of the pavilion on the northern side where we had to part. Miranda grasped my hand before I could walk off. She had the most curious look on her face, part apologetic, part worried.
"You may think it's not my place," she said, "but I consider us friends now, and as your friend, I have to say this. Be careful, Josie. You know nothing about him."
I stared at her, searching for the right words. I wanted to tell her that Dane didn't even know himself, but I would never reveal his secret.
"Do you?" she prompted, clearly fishing for details of his past.
"We are like strangers to one another," was all I said.
"Ignore her," Kitty said with a roll of her eyes. "She's worrying over nothing. The captain seems like a good man."
"You hardly know him either," Miranda said. "Have you ever spoken directly to him, Kitty?"
"Of course not. But I can tell from his face that he's a good man."
"Kitty, you do surprise me," Miranda teased. "I thought all the servants were the same to you duchesses, as interchangeable as your jewels."
Kitty touched the pendant at her bosom. "My jewels are not interchangeable. Anyway," she added with a toss of her head, "the captain is different. One cannot fail to notice him. Besides, his uniform is black and the other guards wear red. I can't tell them apart, nor the footmen and maids. They should wear different caps or something identifiable. Oh! I've just had a marvelous idea! They should pin little engraved nameplates on their uniforms. I'll suggest it to the king."
"Will it help you remember them?" Miranda asked. "You'd probably take as much notice of a nameplate as you do of a face. Faces are unique yet you cannot tell the footman who brings your wine from the one who opens the door."
"Not at the palace, no. I know most of our footmen at home. Honestly, Miranda, Josie will think me a snob when I'm merely stupid."
Miranda couldn't hold her laughter in any longer. It burst out of her like a geyser and she clamped both hands over her mouth to smother the unladylike sound. Kitty laughed too, but I did not.
If the footmen all looked alike to Kitty and her ilk, then perhaps the duke of Buxton was wrong. Perhaps it hadn't been Seb with him at the time of Ruth's rape. Perhaps it had been a different footman, similar enough that the duke confused them.
It was a slim possibility but plausible, and I had to report it to Dane. Even more reason to hurry to the garrison. I'd spent far too long chatting.
Miranda and Kitty headed toward the palace steps while I rounded the northern pavilion where it almost but not quite met the palace. I'd walked between the two buildings several times, heading to and from the garrison. The space was wide enough for two small pushcarts to pass one another. There were no carts now, no passersby, either noble or servant, no guards on patrol, only the jaunty melody played by the ensemble on the other side of the palace.
And the barely audible grunt of the man who lunged out of the pavilion's shadows and grabbed me from behind.
He wrapped one arm around my waist, the other around my mouth and nose so that I couldn't breathe. I tried to scream but received a mouthful of cotton sleeve and an empty pair of lungs for my efforts.
I struggled, tried to wriggle free, to kick him, but the angle was all wrong with him behind me, and I couldn't free my arms. My blood thundered through my body, and my throat and chest burned from the lack of air. The edges of my vision blurred, as if the world were a book and the reader was closing it with me trapped in the pages.
A profound sense of dread crept through me, an insidious monster that reached every part of me and burrowed deep.
Yet a small part of my heart fought the bleakness, fought the smothering fog, and opened the book a crack.
It was, perhaps, a good thing that I had given up for a few moments. I'd gone limp in my attacker's arms and he changed his hold to drag me back further into the shadows. My booted heels scraped against the gravel, but it wouldn't do them much damage. They were excellent quality boots with a sturdy heel. They were my only weapon.
I mustered every ounce of determination I possessed and stomped down hard on my attacker's foot.
I caught the edge of his shoe, but it was enough. He grunted and his grip loosened enough for me to use my last bit of strength to break free. I ran.
Or tried to. I fell to the ground on my hands and knees, utterly spent. I gasped in as much beautiful, delicious air as I could and tried to scream. Nothing came out. My throat was on fire and my chest felt as though a giant's fist strangled it.
I tried to get up, but could only manage to crawl a short way before collapsing again. I half turned, and caught sight of my attacker's face as he lunged at me.
Seb.
It was no consolation to have my theory proved correct.