“I will, my lord.”
“Good lass,” the old man said, laying his head back against the pillow. He gazed up at the ceiling, one that had been painted with a scene from the Bible on it. It was quite elaborate, with stars made of real gold plastered to the ceiling. “That is where I am going, you know. Up there. To a place with blue skies and gold stars.”
Desdra turned her gaze upward, seeing the ceiling as it was illuminated by the light from dozens of tapers. It was truly a work of art.
“I hope so,” she said. “You have been kind to so many, my lord. You have done great good for this town. I pray that God has a special place just for you, where you can enjoy your blue skies and gold stars. You have earned it.”
He looked at her, his eyes yellowed from the disease that ravaged his body. “You are kind, lass,” he said quietly. “Desdra…surely you know that you paid your father’s debt a long time ago.”
She averted her gaze, looking at the vellum. “I know, my lord.”
“You are free to leave.”
Her gaze flicked up to him. “And go where?” she said. “Home? Where my father can sell me again to pay his debts, only the next time, the creditor might not be so kind or forgiving? Aye, I know I can leave. I know the debt has long been paid. But this is my home now and I will remain and help your nephew manage your empire. It is a great empire, my lord. You said that he is worthy of it. I can only pray that you are right.”
The old man smiled faintly. “You are the keeper of my legacy, are you not?” he said. “You will ensure he is worthy, I am sure, and if he is not…”
“If he is not, then I will know soon enough,” she said. “You have been kind and generous with me, my lord. I will repay the favor by ensuring your legacy is preserved. Now… what did you wish to say to Jareth?”
The old man told her.
But he still couldn’t do it without laughing.
CHAPTER ONE
Westminster Palace
“Jareth, watch out!”
Jareth heard the warning before he hit the ground, face first, and a blade whizzed over his head. Infuriated, and with a mouth full of dirt, he managed to kick his legs out and catch his opponent by the ankles.
Stefan de Lohr went down in a heap.
Jareth sat up, spitting clumps from his mouth, as he pounced on Stefan and shoved the man’s face into the dirt as well.
“That’s what you get, you overgrown child,” he said, rolling off the man when he resisted. “Honestly, Stefan. Grabbing my ear and twisting? As if that would force me to capitulate?”
Stefan spat out some dirt of his own as he pushed himself onto his knees. “What’s that you say?” he said. “I did not quite hear.”
Given that Stefan was mostly deaf, Jareth had learned to speak very loudly to him. They all had. But sometimes Stefan used the deafness to his advantage and pleaded ignorance. Jareth, and the rest of the Guard of Six, had learned that as well.Stefan may have been hard of hearing, and they knew it was growing worse, but he was anything but ignorant or helpless.
The man was a beast in the best sense of the word.
“I said you are an overgrown child,” Jareth shouted at him, watching Stefan grin. “This was to be a training exercise, not a brawl.”
Stefan stood up, reaching out a hand to pull Jareth to his feet. “It was great fun, whatever it was,” he said. “You may not have the size of some of the others, but you are faster than lightning. That makes you more dangerous.”
Jareth turned his nose up at him. “Do not flatter me,” he said. “I do not like you and I do not believe you.”
Stefan started laughing.
The men known as the Guard of Six had been training in a smaller yard of Westminster Palace beneath a May sun that was surprisingly warm. Tunics were off, shoulders were starting to bronze up and burn, but they were enjoying every moment of it. Training, and practice, was something that had been part of their lives since they were small children because, as English knights, perfect skill and readiness was expected of them.
No one trained more diligently than Jareth. A de Leybourne son, he had an older brother, a father, and an ancestral home named Tyringham Castle deep in the wilds of Cornwall. He’d been raised in that mysterious land that was built on legends and blood, so there was something wild in his soul. He wasn’t the largest man in the Guard of Six, as Stefan had mentioned, but he was by far one of the most cunning. Jareth was as wise as he was ethical, as skilled as he was fast.
But he was not a small man by any definition. He was over six feet in height, with enormous shoulders and big arms. But the Guard of Six, by the king’s design, comprised some of the biggest, strongest men in the kingdom, so Jareth’s height againstthe others was all relative. He was a big man in any room he entered and certainly the smartest.
He was also the bravest.
