Free In a Treacherous Court by Michelle Diener Page A

hurt?”
    The housekeeper raised her head off the rush-strewn floor, and Susanna saw a small pool of blood beneath her, soaked up by the dried leaves. Blood smeared her cheek and had begun to dry in thick rivulets above her eyebrow.
    “The boys?” she asked in a weak voice.
    Susanna glanced around, but there was no sign of the boys. No sign of Parker, either.
    He would never have left Mistress Greene to lie here if he’d seen her. So either he hadn’t seen her, or …
    Susanna stood.
    Parker would not have gone quietly, and he would not have been easy to take.
    She raised the poker again and crept to the back door. It was ajar, and the cold air flowed in, viscous and heavy.
    The yard was empty. In the light from the lantern hanging above the stable door, she could see it was open, and from inside the stable Susanna could hear the thud and grunt of a fight.
    She grabbed a pile of clean rags from the table and ran back to Mistress Greene, lifting her head gently and pillowing the cloths under it.
    “Don’t go to sleep,” she whispered. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
    As she returned to the back door, she saw the cleaver Mistress Greene used to chop chicken carcasses lying on the table. She picked it up and hefted it in her right hand, the poker in her left. Then she ran out into the yard, keeping an eye on thearchway where Gripper had grabbed her that morning. No one lurked in the street that she could see.
    She hovered around the stable entrance, trying to peer without getting too close to the door.
    She saw a foot almost on the stable threshold. It was small, pathetic, illuminated by the wedge of lantern light that cut into the stable’s gloom.
    Eric.
    Since she’d found Mistress Greene, a rage had been building at these people who would not stop coming. Who thought nothing of the lives they were destroying.
    Her anger was cold as the air she breathed, and Eric’s foot made the rage grow colder. Cold as a blizzard.
    She ran through the door, stooped over double, and crouched next to Eric. He had been struck senseless, but she was relieved to hear him take a shuddering breath.
    Peter Jack lay two feet away, his face a mess of bruises and cuts. His eyes fluttered open, stared at her blankly for a moment, then closed again.
    She stood and heard the thump of a body against the wooden planks of the stable stall, a grunt of effort as flesh struck flesh.
    Parker, who had already spent his day fighting for his life and for information to protect hers.
    Enough was enough.
    Furious, she hefted her weapons and made for the stall just as two men burst from it: Parker locked in battle with some tradesman or laborer, by his dress.
    Blood streamed down their faces and matted their hair. The fine linen and velvet of Parker’s clothes were as ripped and torn as his attacker’s rough wool. Wild beasts fighting to the death.
    They fell to the floor and Parker’s attacker grabbed his head by the hair, lifted it up to crack it down on the wooden planks. The man drew back his lips in a snarl, and Susanna saw blood coating the whites of his teeth.
    She ran forward, the poker already swinging down, and caught him a hard crack on the back of his head.
    He grunted in pain and shot her a look of disbelief, then half-stood to come after her.
    Parker rolled away and began to heave himself up, but his attacker shook his head as if to clear it and turned his attention back to Parker.
    It had become personal for him, Susanna could see. She was the only one armed with anything more than fists, she was the only one standing on her feet—but he dismissed her out of hand as a threat.
    His mistake.
    With a cry, she rushed him, swinging the cleaver and the poker together. He turned and blocked the poker’s blow just in time, flicking it from her hand.
    He didn’t even see the cleaver.
    Susanna heard the thud of metal into flesh, felt the vibration down the wooden handle in her hand.
    She’d never heard a more horrendous noise. Felt a more