The Whisper of Silenced Voices Read online

  "Not necessarily," Balthazar said. "The king might still be persuaded to marry the Vytill princess. He knows it's in the kingdom's best interest to do so."

  "And who is going to convince him of that?" Dane asked. "He doesn't always listen to us anymore, and he has never listened to his advisors."

  "I haven't given up on him yet. He might be a fool in many ways, but he does take his responsibility to Glancia very seriously. I know he does. It remains to be seen if his head can overrule his…" Balthazar glanced at me. "Other parts."

  "I hope you're right." Dane rested a hand on the door handle. "Josie, I'll escort you out."

  "I'm not leaving the palace yet," I said, rising. "I was on my way to speak to Miranda, and I still plan to do so."

  "There's no longer any need. It doesn't matter which ladies are suitable marriage candidates for the king now. He'll only have eyes for Morgrave's widow."

  "True, but gossip is just as important as ever. Besides, I'd still like to see her."

  He watched me as I passed him into the corridor. "Then I'll tell her you're waiting for her by the lake."

  I waited an age for Miranda. It was too hot in the sun so I moved into the shade of the trees lining the edge of the lawn. From afar, she looked as serene and cool as ever, but as she drew closer, I could see the flush to her cheeks and the shine on her forehead.

  "I'm pleased to see you are real, after all, and not a doll come to life," I said, smiling.

  "Pardon?"

  "You look hot."

  She lowered herself with the grace of a dancer onto the lawn and leaned back against the tree trunk too. "I feel like I'm melting." She eyed the lake on the other side of the lawn. "It looks so inviting."

  "You wouldn't dare, not this close to the palace." We had once paddled in a pond in the forest in only our underthings, but that had been far enough away that we weren't worried about being seen. There may be few people about today, but it was too risky there.

  "You're right, I wouldn't. I'm far too demure to do such a thing."

  I laughed. I'd thought her very demure when I'd first met her, but further acquaintance had proved she had a mischievous side.

  "The captain said you wanted to see me," she said. "Is that just an excuse to come to the palace to see him?"

  "No! I did want to see you."

  Her smile turned wicked.

  "I had to attend to one of the female staff, and thought I could pay a call on you too while I'm here," I said. "Although visiting you is not as easy as visiting my other friends."

  "It's all right, Josie. I don't mind if you use me as your ruse to see him." She grinned, but it quickly faded. "Did you hear about Lord Morgrave?"

  I was about to tell her I'd seen the body when a voice interrupted me.

  "Miranda! Miranda, where are you?" It was Kitty, the duchess of Gladstow. She must be on the path on the other side of the trees. "Miranda, I saw you come this way. Where are you?"

  "Do you mind?" Miranda whispered to me.

  "Of course not," I said. "I enjoy her company too."

  "Through here, Kitty!" she called out.

  A moment later, the duchess appeared. She looked even hotter than Miranda, and she was breathing heavily, her bosom billowing above the tight bodice. She flipped out her fan with a flick of her wrist and flapped it furiously at her face.

  "Good day, Josie," she said with a wan smile. "Now I see why Miranda came all the way out here on such an awful day. I thought she'd gone mad. I was genuinely fearful that the heat had boiled her brain."

  I laughed. "Come and sit down before you collapse, Kitty," I said, daring to use her first name rather than her title.

  She didn't seem to notice. She was far too busy being horrified at my suggestion. "On the ground?"

  "You've never sat on the ground before?" Miranda asked.

  "Not unless a blanket has been set down first. Or a gentleman's cloak, of course."

  "Do many gentlemen lay their cloaks down for you?"

  Kitty sighed. "Not anymore."

  Miranda patted the grass beside her. "Come and sit. It's too hot to stand."

  Kitty crossed her ankles and lowered herself, thrusting out her backside, her arms raised for balance. She changed her mind half way down, straightened, and tried again, only to give up once more.

  "I know there's an art to this." She put her hands behind her and leaned back, but quickly abandoned the method.

  "Didn't you ever sit on the floor as a child?" Miranda asked with a laugh.

  "I thought there might be a better way, but all right. I'll pretend as though I'm five again." Kitty gathered up her skirts then went down on her knees then sat on her bottom, her feet out beside her. "There." She arranged her skirts around her. "I knew I could do it."

  Miranda smiled sweetly. "And if you feel something crawl up your leg, be sure to brush it off before it reaches your—"

  "Miranda!" Kitty opened her fan again with a violent shake. "Honestly, you can be so rustic, sometimes."

  "And you are quite the prude. It's a wonder this court hasn't cured you of that yet."

  Kitty eyed Miranda over the top of her fan. "Are you referring to you know who and their you know what?"

  "Do you mean the liaison between the king and Lady Morgrave? Yes, I am referring to that. But there are others, if you know where to look."

  Kitty suddenly lowered the fan to her lap. "Who?"

  Miranda dismissed her with a wave of her hand. "Forget them. We were just about to discuss the death of Lord Morgrave."

  Kitty resumed her fan flapping. "I don't feel sorry for him." She looked around as if afraid she'd been overheard, then leaned in. "He was a disgusting man."

  "In what way?" I asked.

  "His manners were appalling, and his language worse. He'd gamble and throw tantrums when he lost. He borrowed money from my husband but never paid him back. He was often drunk. He visited us last year and attacked one of the maids as she prepared his room. I had to order the footmen to stand guard in the servants' wing all night."

  "No wonder you're not sorry to see him dead," I said. "What about Lady Morgrave? Did she seem sorry when she found out?"

  "She was certainly surprised," Kitty said, confirming Theodore's opinion. "She claims he had never complained of chest pains before."

  Miranda stretched out her legs and pulled the green cotton skirt to her knees. "Once she moves past the shock, she'll be relieved. I didn't know him as well as you, Kitty, but I overheard him say nasty things to her. Things no man should say to his wife."

  "It's what husbands do, Miranda. They say cruel things. Sometimes they don't mean it and are sorry afterwards. Well, husbands of our station are, if you know what I mean."

  "No, I do not. No man should call his wife a whore, not even one of our station."

  Kitty looked out to the lake. "Even if he's right?"

  Miranda and I exchanged glances. "Kitty," Miranda began. "Is something wrong?"

  "Has your husband said something cruel to you?" I asked.

  She sniffed and turned back to face us, a smile plastered on her lips. "Violette is a whore, though, isn't she? Just a different sort to those you see in the village brothel."

  "Perhaps they're in love," Miranda said. "The king's kind and generous, and he can be charming sometimes. Compared to Lord Morgrave, he's quite appealing."

  I didn't entirely agree with her. I'd seen the king in a different light to both these women. I'd seen him throw a tantrum, be selfish and immature. He certainly wasn't someone I could fall in love with, but I hadn't been married to an ogre like Morgrave or had a mother like Lady Deerhorn.

  "Do you think he'll marry her?" Kitty asked.

  "Gossip would suggest so," Miranda said. "Lord Morgrave wasn't even cold yet and the court was marrying his widow off to the king. Some were even suggesting the death wasn't from natural causes."

  Kitty gasped and quickly glanced around. "Miranda, keep your voice down. If someone overheard you…"

  Mira
nda looked to me. "Is it possible to kill someone and make it look like they died of heart failure?"

  I bit my lip, warring with myself. I didn't like to lie but how much should I tell them?

  "You know something, don't you?" Miranda said, inching toward me. "Out with it, Josie."

  "I saw the body before Doctor Clegg did," I whispered. "He wasn't very thorough."

  "And?"

  "And that's all I can say. The captain knows my thoughts, but he forbade me to discuss it with anyone else."

  "That doesn't include us," Kitty said, sounding put out.

  Miranda's eyes brightened, and she sported a curious look on her face. "You do think he was murdered, don't you? Well, well. It seems someone paid Doctor Clegg to give a diagnosis of heart failure to hide the misdeed."

  Kitty gasped. "Who?"

  "The Deerhorns, of course."

  Kitty gasped again and her gaze swept the trees behind us once more.

  "Shhh," I hissed at Miranda. "For goodness’ sake, don't say that to anyone. Not even your parents."

  "I won't," Miranda said. "I promise. It would only get you into trouble, and I certainly don't want that."

  Kitty gasped a third time and caught my hand. "Do be careful, Josie. Lord Morgrave was an awful man and better off dead, if you ask me. Finding out who killed him isn't worth the risk."

  I reassured them both that I agreed.

  Miranda patted my knee. "Good. Anyway, it's not certain the king will marry Violette. He might still do the right thing and marry Princess Illiriya. We have to hope so, anyway. Imagine if he doesn't choose her?"

  "The Vytill representative will be most put out," Kitty said. "He was in the salon when Lord Morgrave's death was announced, and he looked positively ill over it. I thought he was going to faint."

  "Forget Lord Barborough. It's the Vytill king we have to worry about. He won't take kindly to his plans being thwarted." Miranda cast a grave look at me. We both knew the future looked uncertain now.

  "What about your husband, Kitty?" I asked her. "What will he advise the king to do now?"

  "How would I know? He doesn't discuss politics with me. He thinks I'm not capable of understanding, but I am."

  "He and the Duke of Buxton could try to prove that King Leon gained the throne through magic so he can be deposed," Miranda said. "Although deposing someone with magic at their disposal would be a difficult task."

  "Do you believe in it?" Kitty asked. "Magic, I mean."

  Miranda shrugged.

  "Lots do, you know," Kitty said to me. "I've overheard some whispering about it in the salons. My servants believe it too, particularly after my maid heard the palace servants discussing it. What does your captain think?"

  "He's not my captain," I said. "And I don't think we should discuss it anymore. Such talk is as risky as suggesting Lord Morgrave didn't die of heart failure."

  I was relieved they both agreed with me.

  We fell into silence, none of us particularly keen to leave. It was too hot even to walk back to the palace, and I wasn't prepared to say goodbye yet. I wasn't sure when I would next see them.

  "Do you know where they took the body, Josie?" Miranda asked, quite unexpectedly.

  "The cellar beneath the servants' commons," I said. "It's the coolest room. But the body won't keep long in this heat, even down there. He'll need to be buried soon."

  Kitty's face drained of color and she increased the speed of her fan flapping. "Do we have to discuss this?"

  Miranda ignored her. "I wonder if they'll send the body home to be buried on his estate."

  "I wonder if the widow will return with the body," I added. "Or if she'll stay here to be near the king."

  "She'll have to observe a period of mourning, surely," Kitty said. "It would be most unseemly if she didn't."

  "But if she's gone for any length of time, the king's eye might catch another," Miranda said with a smirk. "There are many ladies circling him. She should be worried."

  That was quite the understatement. The king had a wandering eye and was easily distracted by a pretty face and a sharp wit. He'd moved quickly from Miranda to Lady Morgrave and could certainly do so again.

  "He has a son, you know," Kitty said idly. "Lord Morgrave does, from his first marriage. He's grown up, of course, and will inherit. I wonder what he thinks of his father's death."

  Indeed. If anyone would want to see justice, it would be him. But he had to know his father was murdered first.

  I parted ways with Kitty and Miranda when we reached the tip of the palace's southern wing. They entered the building while I continued on to the commons. Up ahead, in the shade of the building, stood Brant, talking to a footman dressed in the Duke of Buxton's livery colors. The footman nodded vigorously while Brant spoke in earnest. What could Brant possibly have to say to the duke's footman that was so important?

  I was considering how to get closer and listen when someone emerged from the shadows and grabbed my arm. Lord Barborough jerked me around to face him.

  "Let me go!" I cried, trying to pull free, and failing. I considered calling for help, but wasn't sure if Brant cared enough to come to my assistance.

  "I see you've followed my advice and returned to the palace," Barborough snarled.

  Kitty had said he looked ill upon hearing of Lord Morgrave's death, and I could see why. He sweated profusely and breathed heavily. There was also wildness in his eyes. Whenever I'd met him before, he'd seemed in ruthless control. Now, he looked like a man standing too close to the edge of a cliff in a storm.

  "Are you unwell?" I asked, genuinely worried he might collapse. "Is it the heat?"

  "Do you know what ails me, Mistress Cully? It's you." He shook me. "What have the servants told you?"

  I shrank away but he pulled me closer. "N-nothing," I said. "I've not had a chance to speak to anyone."

  "You lie. You've been to see the gardeners." He nodded in the direction of the greenhouse and pottage garden from which I'd come.

  "I met with Lady Miranda Claypool and the duchess of Gladstow. Ask them if you don't believe me."

  Mentioning two important names was enough to have him doubt himself. His grip loosened enough for me to jerk free. I stepped back, out of his reach.

  "I want you to seek out the maids who clean the king's chambers," he said. "Ask them if they've seen any jewels. Not just ordinary jewels, but something…unique."

  My heart thundered, crashing into my ribs. "Why?"

  He glanced past me toward the commons. "Just ask them." He strode off and entered the palace.

  I stared after him, my heart still hammering. He must know about the pulsing red gem in the king's possession. But how? Had he guessed? He hadn't suggested I ask the servants specifically about a gem before, so why now?

  I turned and stopped short. The duke's footman had left but Sergeant Brant was still in the same spot—precisely where Lord Barborough had looked when he asked me about the jewel.

  He turned and walked off. I picked up my skirts and hurried after him.

  Chapter 4

  I followed Brant to the servants' commons and hailed him as he crossed the internal courtyard. Other servants came and went in the busy area, carrying out their tasks with the efficiency Balthazar required of them. We were not alone, but it was still possible to have a private conversation.

  "What do you want?" Brant snapped as he rounded on me. He was a solid, tall man with chiseled features that seemed to sharpen whenever he was angry. Which seemed to be often.

  I drew in a deep breath and some courage with it. "I want to know why you were watching me just now."

  "I was worried about your safety. Barborough looked like he was getting rough with you."

  "How gallant." I didn't believe him for a moment, however. Brant possessed nothing as noble as gallantry.

  He grunted and made to walk off, but I blocked his way. He bared his teeth at me. "Move!"

  "Did you mention the gemstone to Lord Barborough?" I asked.

&n
bsp; "Now why would I do that?"

  I shrugged. "To enlist his help in solving the mystery surrounding the palace and your memory loss. He is supposed to be the expert on magic, although I doubt the claim."

  He frowned. "He wrote a book about it."

  "Anyone can write a book. If you want answers about magic, ask a Zemayan. There are some on The Fist, although none in Mull since Tam Tao died."

  His gaze pierced me, shredding my nerves. "Why did Barborough ask you about the gemstone? What's going on between you?"

  I swallowed heavily. "If it was you, then you have just given information to a very dangerous man. It was a foolish—"

  His hand whipped out and gripped my jaw, hard. I didn't move, didn't want to rile him further, but I did hold his gaze. I was terrified but I wouldn't let him see. "I haven't told him anything, Josie, and you make sure Hammer knows it, or you might find this pretty mouth of yours is no good for kissing anymore."

  He let me go and stormed off. I sat on the edge of the fountain and drew in deep, ragged breaths until I felt a little calmer. Eventually I stood and headed to the garrison to fetch my pack. I'd had enough of palace intrigue for the day.

  I threw myself into work over the next two days. I called on both my patients and spent a while with the youngest, a first-time mother, preparing her for what to expect during childbirth. I prepared tonics and salves in my kitchen and foraged for herbs in the forest. Summer wasn't the best time, but it was something to do, and the weather had cooled enough that it was no longer unpleasant to be outdoors. I even helped Meg with the housework, earning myself an invitation to dinner.

  I couldn't avoid the palace and Lord Barborough forever, though. Indeed, I expected to see him every time someone knocked on my door. I prepared a speech for him, keeping it vague enough that he couldn't verify the information. It remained to be seen if it would satisfy him.

  While I avoided the dock, my work took me through the heart of the village. When the market was on, it was a hive of activity, with stallholders shouting over one another, shoppers attempting to bargain with them, and carts coming and going. Chickens clucked in cages and pigs snuffled around their makeshift pens. One even escaped, to the delight of the children who took up the chase. The palace guards were still in evidence, but they were few and far between.