Free Grace of the Goddess (The Death Dealer Book 3) by Katie Roman Page A

named his second son the heir if Daniel died. George, seeing that Grace and Deidre stood to lose everything, married Deidre so she could keep her title and he named Calvin heir. Grace never imagined her father didn’t write a will for lack of love, but rather from a lack of foresight.
                  Calvin finally sheathed his sword and turned his back to Grace. His shoulders slumped and she saw him raise a hand to his forehead.
                  “You should have told me before tonight how much I had hurt you,” she said in a small voice, guilt pouring over her; finally forcing its way out. She had erred and become aggressive, and it was unseemly behavior for her.
                  “You and I were raised as brother and sister,” Calvin said. “I did not bear any ill will to you when you ran from the tournament. You are family, and it was my job to defend you against those who flung insults at you. I thought you would be happier in Glenbard; maybe settle down, marry a guard, and raise a brood of wild children. But you did not.” He swung around to face her. His eyes seemed to glow in the moonlight as he stared at her. “You allied yourself with a thief and lived in muck. And you have killed men, Grace. You are not the same girl who fled, and Donald’s return reminded me that you shamed us and have entered a world we are not part of.” He eyed the knife on her belt. “This duel proves it.”
                  Grace lowered her head to inspect her feet, unsure what to say. She knew she had changed, but she’d never before felt like she didn’t belong in Arganis.
                  “I do not hate you, truly. We are family. The same blood runs through our veins. You are welcome here, but if you do leave, at least have the courage to tell Uncle George.” Calvin moved around her, not bothering to say another word.
                  Grace went back to the cottage to gather her bags. The night was still young.
                 

Four
     
                  “Lord Gregory isn’t who I think should fill the seat of chief magistrate,” Ridley proclaimed. She plopped down into a seat across from Jack. Her hood was drawn up to cover her face, but he suspected enough of the guards who drank at the King’s Beard knew who his dinner guest was.
                  “Well, perhaps you ought to notify His Majesty of his folly. Tell me – who would you put in the position? There aren’t many lining up to take Brayden’s place.” Jack sipped his ale. His meager dinner of mealy apple slices and goat cheese didn’t look too appetizing at the moment.
                  “He should give it to a commoner. None of these lords know how it works for us.” She leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. Underneath the hood, Jack saw her pouting with her lower lip stuck out.
                  “A fifth is needed. And who knows? Maybe the king’s personal guard will be waiting for you tonight to bestow the honor to you.”
                  “Your wit astounds me,” she said, curling her lip.
                  Jack pushed his plate across the table for Ridley to take some. She picked up a piece of cheese and ate it. The tavern was quiet for the dinner hour. A few other off-duty guards enjoyed their meals and a few gamblers threw dice in the corner, but there was no fiddle player or the loud laughter that normally filled the King’s Beard. Jack frowned into his ale. He missed the Angel Tavern. It was still lively when other places were falling silent.
                  “Any more news?” Ridley asked as she swallowed the bit of cheese.
                  “Only suspicions. They’ve locked away a skulking character. He was found around Golden Road with a bloodstained dagger and a black hood.”
    “And?” Ridley leaned forward.
    “He confessed easily enough to murder, but