Free In a Treacherous Court by Michelle Diener

it didn’t matter. “Three, if you count Gripper.”
    “Who is Gripper?”
    “The ruffian who attacked you in the courtyard.”
    Susanna’s eyes widened. “I count him.”
    “You know something of great importance, Susanna.”
    She couldn’t remember when he’d stopped calling her Mistress Horenbout and begun addressing her so intimately, and she didn’t care. “I have told you everything I know.”
    “That cannot be true—” He held up a hand as the protest exploded from her. “I believe you. There is something you do not realize you know.”
    She cocked her head to the side as her indignation subsided. “Else why would they still be so relentless?”
    She led the way to the study and took the chair by the fire again, rubbing her hands close to the blaze. The house was strangely still. She wondered where Mistress Greene and the boys were.
    “Aye. No one takes these kinds of risks without being desperate.” Parker poked at the fire, threw on another log, and eased into the chair beside her. “But the risk is controlled. There are so many layers between the brains behind this and the blunt weapons he throws at us, I have barely scratched the surface of lies and confusion.”
    “Sending someone to kill me who was known to you was ill-thought.”
    Parker nodded. “The person behind this didn’t employGripper to attack you. The man he did hire got Gripper to come in his stead.”
    Susanna thought about that. “Then whoever sent Gripper will no doubt be in trouble himself now.”
    Parker scrubbed a hand over his face. “Where he has gone, that is the least of his worries.”
    She finally understood. “He is dead?”
    “Aye.”
    The thin whistle of the wind through the gap between the window and its frame and the pop of the fire as snow drifted down the chimney were the only sounds. A sense of debt to Parker for what he had done, had been forced to do to protect them all, stole over her.
    Reluctant to speak, reluctant to move, weighed down by death and dread, Susanna roused herself with an effort of will. “I know you are occupied with many other things, but I would like to call on Master Harvey’s widow. She will wish to hear his last words.”
    Parker stiffened. He looked at her sharply, all regrets about recent events pushed aside. She could almost see his mind spinning, as suddenly hers spun as well.
    Mistress Greene’s shriek from the kitchen cut through her thoughts like a blade.
    She leaped to her feet, but Parker reached the door before she’d taken two steps.
    “Stay.” The command was thrown over his shoulder as he charged ahead, sword and knife in his hands.
    Susanna stood frozen, looking at the empty doorway, her stomach clenching.
    The silence went on forever. Each creak and groan of the wooden boards beneath her feet, each pop and sizzle from the fire, stretched out interminably.
    She could stand it no more, had to know what was afoot. She took a tentative step toward the door, then another. She paused just on the threshold.
    What would she do if someone was attacking them? Had managed to attack Parker?
    She looked back into the room and saw the brass poker in its fine filigree stand by the fireplace. She strode back, swung it up, and held it before her as she entered the passageway.
    She crept forward, one cautious step at a time. A small rustle, a quiet groan, sounded behind the half-open kitchen door at the end of the passage, freezing her to the spot.
    The groan came again and she slid along the wall, crouching down as she reached the door. She paused, listening intently, but it was unnaturally quiet.
    She could not wait a moment longer.
    She took a deep breath and stood, threw the door open with a crash, poker raised. At first it seemed no one was there, until she heard the muffled groan again.
    Mistress Greene lay on her side before the fireplace, curled tight as a bud.
    With a cry, Susanna flung herself down next to her, searching for injuries.
    “Mistress Greene, where are you