The Jack of Hearts (House of Cards Book 1)

Chapter 19 | Hit (part i)

The potted plant was large with curling frilly leaves that would disguise the disturbed soil at its base.

Rosalyne pulled her gloves back on to hide her dirty nails as Dys wrung her hands and watched the corridor.

The jaquelle had selected the plant with care, knowing it was far from any dormitories and this particular portion of the fort emptied when evening meal was served. Her absence would be noted but waiting to pass the curse off to Clovis or Lucas was no longer an option. Rosalyne had begun to feel light headed and nearly tripped down the family tower's spiral stairs.

«I still think we should burn it,» Dys murmured as they hurried down to the dining hall. «This is too dangerous to be fooling with.»

Rosalyne paused at a split in the corridor, contemplating the fastest way down to the lower tier of the fort. «Burial is sufficient for the time being. It's advantage outweighs the potential cost.»

Dys stopped in her tracks and planted her hands on her hips. «The 'potential cost' is your life, Rosalyne!»

The jaquelle's voice lowered to a hiss. «Do you really think Rhema will stay away? We have not seen her last — nor am I convinced this stunt was entirely her scheme. Curses cost money. How could a servant afford such a thing?»

Dys did not match her volume. «You are being paranoid. Yes, an ordinary servant could not purchase such a thing — but she is no ordinary servant, is she?»

Rosalyne felt a rush of rage and pain break the surface of her consciousness. She was paranoid. The carnage and loss of the last several weeks replayed in her head.

Lady Dys turned away as their friends' final moments spiked through their Bridge. Rosalyne knew that was not what Dys had meant, but neither was Rosalyne willing to console her.

Neither spoke until they reached the dining hall. the open doors lead them into the vaulted room above the kitchens. It was surprisingly warm, slightly hazy from the chandeliers and steaming food.

Servants entered the hall from tunnel entrances behind the wooden pillars around the room's perimeter carrying trays of venison pies, spiced with laurel and juniper berries; tureens brimming with mushroom soup in mutton broth; and several roasted boar. Trays of vegetables: courgette with capers and thyme; aubergine fried to a golden crisp; and squash roasted and served with cinnamon, butter, and toasted walnuts; were already on the tables, along with baskets of fresh bread, rich and filled with cloves of garlic.

The Cluvani insisted on eating with one another for every meal, but even this spread felt exorbitant.

The hall was still nearly full with small families or groups of cousins and elders filling the seats around the tables.

Rosalyne looked to the head of the hall, opposite the main doors, where the king and queen sat around the high table with several people Rosalyne did not recognise. If King Oktavi was the tallest man Rosalyne had ever seen, the man sat next to him was the largest.

Broad-backed and large-limbed, the man filled out the enormous antlers he wore over his shoulders. His hair was styled similarly to the Iibhere, but rather than knots, strands were twisted around one another and the sections were interwoven at the brow. He tugged his beard as he spoke, furrowing his brow until his brows met in the middle.

The delicate Lady Nuru — one of the warriors that served in the delegation — sat stone-faced at the head-table. Her aunt, Lady Karriem, had died in the forest.

Rosalyne could recognise Lady Karriem's round cheeks and strong build in the protector seated next to the king.

Now that she thought of it, Jhak O'rian had mentioned the Manzansti had arrived.