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Chapter Four
A Squire
The maid’s uniforms came in a few different styles, depending on the job you were assigned to and I was relieved not to be on laundry duty because that uniform had short sleeves. Fortunately, I was assigned to general housekeeping and the long sleeves hid the bloodstained bandage on my forearm.
“Charlotte!”
I’d grown up in a school for paid killers, and yet the sound of Mistress Rosana’s voice barking my name was enough to make me jump right out of my well-tied shoes.
“Yes, Mistress!”
“The master is in his lounge and he asked that you take him his breakfast and make up the room.”
“Master Nicolo?” There were other ‘Masters’.
Mistress Rosana whacked my leg with her cane. “Don’t ask stupid questions, girl.”
Yes, there were other masters, but when someone said ‘the master’, there was only ever one man they meant.
“Herequestedher?” one of the girls repeated.
“He asked for her direct?” another continued.
I scuttled off to the kitchen, worry burning a hole in the front of my brain. It could be a coincidence that Nicolo had selected me for this particular job—Nicolo liked a different girl to bring him breakfast each day (and I had yet to do it).Orit could have been owing to our encounter in the garden. The latter would actually be good news; if he was, in fact, following up on that little rush of chemistry between us. Or the only other option, and one I was decidedly less enthusiastic about, was that somehow he’d managed to figure out it was me who knocked him out cold the night before.
I tried to stay in a positive frame of mind as I carried the tray from the kitchens through the Prince’s Tower.
Master Nicolo barely looked up as I entered, curtseyed and said a polite, “Good morning, Master.”
He said nothing. Which wasn’t surprising and it was his prerogative—I was just a servant, after all—but it was also a bit insulting when he’d spent long minutes eyeballing my goodies in the garden.
“On the table,” he indicated, and I brought the tray across.
Again, he barely looked up as I lowered the tray in front of him, but as soon as I placed it on the table and turned to leave, he moved like a striking snake, grabbing me by the arm, his fingers closing tightly on the exact spot where I’d been injured the previous night. The shock of the pain was so unexpected, I was unable to suppress a little cry, which I tried to pretend was one of surprise.
“Something wrong?” he asked me with suspicion in his gaze.
I’d hoped it was just bad luck that he’d grabbed me there, but as I met his hard, pitiless gaze, I knew he knew. His grip tightened.
“I recognized those eyes,” he said. “Eyes the same shape as a cat’s and the color of the sky.”
Which might have been flattering in other circumstances.
“Master, please! You’re hurting me!” It was important I stay in character as the weak, timid and intimidated little maid. Although how I was going to square that routine with the fact that I’d cold-cocked him in the face the previous evening (the bruise was already showing, alongside the broken skin) was something I’d have to address on the hoof. Maybe he’d go easy on me since I’d pointedly refrained from breaking his nose.
Ignoring my whimpering (which was very convincing, I thought), Nicolo picked the knife off the tray. It was a wicked little thing with a serrated blade.
“Do you know how many people have tried to kill me in the last year, girl?”
“I have… I have heard the answer is five,” I answered, widening my eyes purposely as I added a quake to my voice. I glanced down at my arm where he continued to squeeze me without remorse. “Master, please, it hurts very much.”
“It’s actuallyeightpeople who have attempted to murder me,” Nicolo went on, shaking his head. “Not all of them become fodder for gossip.” He took a breath and then continued when I made no motion to comment. “Do you know what happened to those men?”
“I don’t know, Master…”
Nicolo cut me off by deftly upending the knife and driving it hard into the table top where it stuck, quivering back and forth. My heart rode all the way up into my throat.
“A man like me does not take chances. But you…” He pulled the knife free again and ran it up my arm, making me shiver. And this time the shivers weren’t contrived. “You saved my life.”
