Gabe hung back as his father approached Valten’s bed and began relating the story of the old woman who had just died in the healer’s chambers and the tale she had told. Gabe watched closely as astonishment and something akin to disbelief clouded his brother’s eyes.
Several moments passed while they waited for Valten to absorb the information. He seemed to be concentrating on the cover of the book in his lap, his eyebrows scrunched. Gabe had the strangest feeling that his future depended on what his brother would say.
When he finally spoke, Valten’s voice was low. “Probably just an old woman’s senile ramblings.” He glanced up and met his father’s eyes. “But we must find out.”
Duchess Ermengard stared into her mirror. During the past year, tiny lines had appeared around her eyes. The white powder hid them. Mostly.
Sophie had no wrinkles or even a blemish. Ermengard’s lip curled as she thought about the girl’s pale, perfect skin and the natural red of her lips, her thick black eyelashes and brows. The way Lorencz the huntsman’s eyes lingered on the girl made Ermengard’s blood boil. Did he think the little chit was fairer than Ermengard? While two days in the dungeon should take some of that rosy glow out of the girl’s cheeks, the duchess had started to question if she should keep that wretched child around. Ermengard enjoyed forcing her to work as a scullery maid, making her do her bidding. Inwardly she gloated over Duke Baldewin and imagined his pain; if he only knew what his only beloved daughter was suffering. But watching her capture the attention of Lorencz … it was time to get rid of either her or Lorencz — or both.
She gazed into the mirror, studying her face more closely. Was her skin starting to sag beneath her chin? Perhaps if she cut off a fold of skin just below her jawline it would be tighter when it grew back together. She couldn’t abide sagging jowls. She wouldn’t allow them.
A knock sounded at the door. “Come in.”
Lorencz entered and bowed low. She extended her hand and he kissed it, lingering long enough to make her smirk at him. You’d better endear yourself to me …
“You wanted to see me?”
“Yes. I need you to do something.”
“Anything, Your Grace.”
Perhaps she should insist he call her something besides “Your Grace.” That sounded too formal. Her husband had called Sophie “my precious,” never noticing the seething rage it caused in her, his wife. He never called Ermengard sweet endearments like that. She could order Lorencz to call her that … No. He wouldn’t mean it.
What did everyone see in Sophie? It seemed as though her fellow servants couldn’t do enough for her. They all flocked to her, wanting to help her. It was sickening.
“I want you to kill someone for me.”
Lorencz did not look away from her direct gaze, a quality she admired in a man. “Did someone try to run away again? One of the servants?”
“No.” But if they had, the penalty was death. The duchess couldn’t afford to have anyone leaking her secrets. If the king knew of the people she had killed or of Sophie or of what had become of Duke Baldewin … “I have just sent the scullery maid, Sophie, to the dungeon. I want you to gain her trust. Then, when she gets out, I want you to take her somewhere in the woods and kill her.”
There, the look on his face … was that disgust? Or merely distaste? Her huntsman wasn’t going soft on her, was he?
“Take her some food or some wine, maybe. I want you to kill her without a struggle, without anyone knowing. No screams. I want her to simply … disappear.” She allowed a smile, imagining the girl’s pain when Lorencz betrayed her, when he thrust his knife through her heart.
“You will have to bury her afterward. I don’t want anyone finding her body. We’ll say she ran away, and no one will be the wiser.” And no one will ever know who she truly is.
Unless she was mistaken, Lorencz had turned a shade paler. “It shall be done as you say, Duchess Ermengard.”
“Do not fail me. Now go.”
Sophie held her wooden cross against her cheek. She had whittled it herself from a piece of cedar and wore it tied to a strip of leather around her neck. It was rather large and somewhat thick, and she had to be careful to keep it hidden down the front of her dress. Feeling the smooth wood against her skin, she whispered her prayers as she paced back and forth across the hard, earthen floor of the dungeon. Staying in constant motion kept the rats away. She couldn’t continue pacing all night, but she wasn’t tired enough to stop — yet.