Master Nicolo

Chapter Ten

Princess Alder

Tracking was something that was taught in the Guild, but I thought it best to keep this little accomplishment of mine to myself—there were only so many unexplained skills I could justify.

Besides, we had among our party Sergeant Whitethorn, the finest tracker in the Gath.

Whitethorn trotted up and down the riverbank where the drain emptied into the water, scanning the ground by torchlight—it would have been better to wait until morning, but Nicolo was in no mood to wait.

“You think he’ll be able to follow them, sir?” I asked.

“He’ll be able to tell us the general direction in which they escaped,” replied Nicolo, his face darkly intent. “I’ve had my eye on Wylder for a while and I know most of his friends.”

“Wouldn’t Wylder be better off hiding among the peasants?”

“He’d be too scared.” Nicolo shook his head. “And they’ve no loyalty to him. If we put out a decent reward, they’d hand him over in quick time.” He continued shaking his head, only more vehemently. “No. He’ll stick with his own kind—the nobles. Others who are unhappy with the idea of Balduin as King. There’s plenty enough of them.”

He was silent a moment, as Whitethorn examined a particular spot with interest, picking out the important marks in amongst the melee of footprints that muddied the ground. Nicolo stepped away from him, separating himself from the rest of them and motioned for me to do the same.

He walked forward a few paces until he stood underneath an alder tree and I came to stand before him. As soon as I did, he took a deep breath and there was something heavy that seemed to cloud the beauty of his violet eyes.

“Back there… when we realized it was Wylder we were chasing,” he started and then seemed to lose his words. His jaw was tight and he appeared decidedly uncomfortable.

“Yes?” Of course, I knew exactly which moment he was referencing and wondered if I would now come under more fire for speaking out against him in front of his men.

“I lost my temper,” he continued with a clipped nod. “I was so angry to know it was Wylder who had attempted to take the prince’s life and then I couldn’t do anything about it… I was frustrated, angry… my anger got the better of me.”

“I understand, sir,” I said, because it was the only thing I could say, given my position. Yet I was still upset about the situation deep down, not that it mattered because as a lowly squire, I didn’t matter.

“No, you don’t understand,” Nicolo continued as he stared into my eyes and it felt as if his gaze was ripping right into my soul. “And if you allowed me to finish my words without interrupting me, I would appreciate it.”

I wasn’t aware I had interrupted him but simply smiled amicably at him, though I was still roiling on the inside.

He took a deep breath and then held my gaze. His violet eyes were narrowed and hard, his brows downturned. Yes, my hide was about to be tanned yet again.

“You were right to stop me from following Wylder, Charlotte.” He continued and when I opened my mouth merely from pure shock, he must have assumed I was about to interrupt him again because he simply reached forward and silenced me with his index finger to my lips.

“I should not have hit you and I apologize for doing so,” he continued with a clipped nod. “I do… well, I hope you will forgive me.” He took another deep breath. “For what it’s worth, I did not… er, striking you felt wrong. I will not do so again.”

I was astounded because I didn’t believe Nicolo had it within him to see fault in his own actions and, furthermore, to apologize for those actions. And to me, no less! Someone who was clearly beneath his social ranking. I was stunned into silence and the anger within me began to calm down, the bubbles of ire settling into a surprised calmness.

“I would hope,” he continued. “That we would be able to return to our playful repartee. Do you… accept my apology?” he asked and there was something in his eyes that said my answer to this question was extremely important to him.

I took a second or so to relive the anger of the moment, the sting of his hand against my cheek and the sting returned anew. But then when I thought of his words and the look of regret in his eyes, the anger dissolved away again. When I spoke, I spoke the truth—not just simply the words I was meant to say. “I forgive you,” I answered simply and truthfully.

For a fleeting moment a smile brightened his face and he was more handsome than I’d ever seen him. “Thank you, Charlotte.”

I nodded. “Thank you for apologizing.”

“You will never come under my hand again,” he continued, his jaw going hard again. I gave him a small smile and a nod. And when I looked up again, his eyes were still on me and his lips turned up at the ends almost imperceptibly. “You have a way about you, Charlotte. One day it will get you into trouble, I’ve no doubt…”

“But?”

His smile broadened and I felt myself swallowing hard. “But I like it. You remind me of...” Then he shook his head and whatever ghost of a smile had been on his lips was now gone. “I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

“I remind you… of you?” I suggested.

“Perhaps of the person I might have been had things within my childhood gone… differently.”

I would have liked to pursue that topic further, but as he spoke, Whitethorn raised his hand.

“Master Nicolo!”

Nicolo looked over and Whitethorn pointed. As I watched, I saw Nicolo’s face curl into an ugly snarl.

“That damnable bitch.”

***

Prince Balduin had had five sisters but Willow had died some years before. The remaining sisters were the princesses Laurel, Hazel, Alder and Maple. (Why the queen hadn’t named Balduin ‘Oak’ or ‘Pine’ or something equally woodsy, I didn’t know.) Regardless, all the princesses were married to dukes who were responsible for districts of the Gath—mostly outlying districts because the Old Queen was no fool and wanted the princesses as far from the Great Castle as possible.

The queen was well-aware of the ambitions her granddaughters harbored where the throne was concerned and so kept them at a safe distance from their younger brother—who was more fortunate than them simply by virtue of his gender. I could sympathize with them; it was unfair that women couldn’t directly inherit the throne. On the other hand, they were, by all accounts, not nice people.

It was a long ride to the district of La Ven, based around the old town of Ventnor and ruled for many generations by the Dukes of Ven, the current title-holder being Duke Prius, the husband of the Old Queen’s middle granddaughter, Princess Alder.

“Lovely castle,” I commented as we rode into the outskirts of La Ven, late that afternoon.

“Picturesque but not practical,” muttered Nicolo.

I wasn’t an expert in castle defenses, but I guessed he was probably right. He was certainly right about it being picturesque. With its elegant spires and curved walls, it looked like the sort of fairytale castle that inhabited the picture books I’d read when I was a girl (because the Assassins Guild encouraged girls to be feminine, as well as trained killers). The stone from which the castle was constructed had a blue tinge that caught the light of the waning sun and reflected it back in shades of azure, making the place seem even more otherworldly—almost as though it were home to Neptune, himself.

“May I ask a question, Master?” I ventured.

Nicolo raised an eyebrow. “Since when are you so tentative?”

I gave him a little smile. “I don’t wish to be too familiar in front of the other soldiers.”

He gave me a raised brow expression but in it was approval. “Go on.”

“La Ven isn’t exactly close to the Great Castle.”

“Your point?”

I swallowed and nodded, realizing I’d have to explain. “As soon as Sergeant Whitethorn said the direction he believed the assassins went, you were convinced this was their destination.” And I still didn’t know why. The way Nicolo’s brain worked was sometimes quite a puzzle to me. I felt as if I had all the pieces but wasn’t quite sure how they all fit.

“Yes.”

“How are you so sure this is their destination?”

“I was half-expecting it, truth be known,” replied Nicolo in an unconcerned tone. “Most of Wylder’s friends are out to the west, near his own district. Yet if he’d opted to travel east, there could only be one place he was going. I was able to extrapolate his direction by the point in which he and his men left the river.”

“How is that possible?”

“According to Whitethorn, the area they chose wasn’t the most obvious place to depart—in fact, there were much easier places to disembark, thus that location was chosen deliberately.”

“So, they were definitely going in an easterly direction.”

“Precisely.” He nodded.

“But why? If his friends are to the west?”

“Wylder knows we’re on his trail, so it makes sense for him to hide with someone who possesses royal privilege. Someone who probably feels she’s above suspicion and that, even if she is suspected, no one would dare accuse nor search her home.”

“Princess Alder, the prince’s sister?” I asked. He nodded and I frowned. “What are we going to do when we get there?”

“We are going to give Princess Alder a sharp lesson in the limits of royal privilege.”

I was silent a while, pondering how to phrase my next question.

Nicolo looked at me and a smile slightly tilted his lips up at the ends. “You’re wondering why Wylder would ally himself with another spoilt royal?” he suggested, reading my face. “Given his abhorrence for Balduin?”

“I wasn’t going to phrase the question quite like that but I suppose the question still remains the same.”

To my surprise, Nicolo smiled the sort of big genuine smile I hadn’t seen since this affair began. “By the Great God you’re learning, woman. Who would have thought?” I gave him a well-pronounced frown to which he chuckled. Then he continued, “well, you’d be right to ask.” He nodded as he smiled at me again and there appeared an expression of pride in his eyes. “You pay attention smartly, Charlotte. It may not always be wise for a squire to be too clever but I like it… for now, at any rate.”

“I don’t imagine you would like a silly squire,” I answered with my eyebrows arched. “I do believe you lack the patience for one.”

“True, Charlotte, very true.”

I cleared my throat, wanting to return to the subject at hand. “Then Wylder and Princess Alder are allies?”

Nicolo cocked his head to the side. “I wouldn’t call them ‘allies’ necessarily. More a case of ‘my enemy’s enemy is my friend’.”

“Interesting.”

“They both dislike Prince Balduin and would rather see him dead than on the throne. Of course, once Balduin is dead, then Alder and Wylder have very different ideas of what should happen next. Alder believes she should be queen, with Prius as her puppet king.”

“Wouldn’t Princess Hazel and Princess Laurel come before Princess Alder in the succession? They are older, no?”

“Yes, and they should watch their backs.”

I nodded and grew quiet for a few seconds until something else occurred to me and I looked up, only to find Nicolo still watching me with that amused expression. “What, sir?” I asked.

“I’m quite sure you haven’t exhausted your arsenal of questions?”

I laughed. “I… haven’t,” I finished and then glanced down a bit bashfully.

“Well, come on then, what’s the next one?”

I smiled at him and found I really enjoyed the easy comradery between us and strangely enough, it seemed even more casual than it had before ‘the incident’. “What does Wylder want by murdering the prince?”

Nicolo shook his head. “I really don’t know. I suppose Wylder’s just a man with ideas of his own. Old soldiers see a lot of the world—sometimes they see too much and that gives them funny ideas about how things ought to work.”

I decided not to pass comment on this. Maybe I was learning.

“Who goes?!” called a voice from the castle walls as we rode up to the closed gates.

“Master Nicolo and a company of the King’s Guards!” Nicolo shouted back, his tone of voice warning the guards not to make this difficult on him and us.

‘ King’s Guards’ I noted. Just as it was the ‘King’s Tower’ in which the Old Queen lived. She was widely considered our greatest monarch and had outlived any other by over a decade, but such things change slowly, if at all.

The gates swung open without any more back and forth. When Master Nicolo was waiting, then you acted fast and asked questions later. Stable boys hurried out to take our horses while pages rushed from the doors of the keep that dominated the courtyard, anxious to show us every hospitality.

“Almost as if they were expecting us,” muttered Nicolo as he faced me with one eyebrow drawn.

We entered an impressive hall at the same time as the duke and his royal wife, who entered from the other side. As we met them, we all knelt and lowered our heads and Nicolo bowed, but his spine was rigid and his shoulders were tense.

“Your Grace, Your Highness,” he said, facing them both. “Thank you for making us welcome.”

Duke Prius opened his mouth, but it was his wife who spoke first. “Nicolo, what an unexpected pleasure .”

It might have been my imagination, but I thought she stressed the word ‘ pleasure ’. Whenever the princesses came up in conversations between Nicolo and their brother, I got the impression there was history there, and the way Princess Alder looked at Nicolo seemed to confirm that history.

The way Nicolo looked back at her was much less friendly. “You were missed at the Masque last night.”

“Sadly, we were unable to attend,” replied Princess Alder, speaking for the duke again. “But surely, you have not come all this way to chide us for that? You must have ridden through the day.”

Nicolo didn’t mince his words. “Then I suppose you haven’t yet heard the news?”

“News?” Princess Alder responded, shaking her head so her curly, blonde ringlets bounced around her face. She was a pretty woman, if not a bit round. With her large, brown eyes, pert nose, rosebud mouth and pink cheeks, she had the look of a young child though I guessed her to be in her middle or late thirties.

“Your friend, Duke Wylder, is a traitor,” Nicolo stated matter-of-factly.

“Is that so?” Princess Alder asked, not in the least bit thrown off by the mention of Wylder’s name. In fact, she was still wearing that cat-in-heat expression on her face and hadn’t yet removed her eyes from Nicolo, even though her insipid husband stood just beside her.

Nicolo nodded. “Last night Wylder attempted to assassinate your royal brother.”

“Attempted?” Duke Prius finally got a word in as he took a step forward, apparently to assert himself. “I take it the assassination wasn’t successful? I do hope the prince is quite unharmed?”

“Quite unharmed,” replied Nicolo, his eyes never leaving Alder’s face.

“Thanks be to the Great God,” said Duke Prius on a long sigh as he shook his head. It sounded to me as though he meant his words and I had to wonder how much he knew of his scheming wife’s plans.

“While that is quite terrible news and I am… simply overjoyed to know my brother still lives, I do not understand why that brings you here,” Alder’s tone was now edged in ice and her chocolate eyes were narrowed on Nicolo’s.

“We’re in pursuit of Wylder.”

“And you believe he came this way?” she asked with a little laugh that said we were all ill-informed and possibly even stupid.

“I have it on good report, yes,” Nicolo answered, his lips tight.

“Do you?” Alder asked.

“I can think of at least one good reason why Wylder would seek you out,” Nicolo responded.

“Master Nicolo,” the duke spoke up, angrily “are you accusing me of treason?”

“Absolutely not, your Grace,” Nicolo clarified as he dignified the duke with a pointed look. “I’m certain you had no idea of the sorts of friends your wife was making.”

“How dare you!” the duke railed.

It was hard to tell if the duke was more enraged by the slur against his wife or by the idea that he had no control over her or knowledge of what she was doing, but he stepped forward, all the same.

“You forget you are talking to your better!” the duke yelled, drawing his sword.

Nicolo’s sword was out of its sheath in an instant—so fast, I didn’t even see it happen—and in two strokes, he’d disarmed the duke and kicked him to the ground. The duke seemed as flummoxed as the rest of us, his face and four chins as red as the silk wrapped around his abundant belly.

The duke’s own guards rushed forward, but our men were ready for them.

“Stop!” Nicolo’s blade now pointed at the princess, though he addressed her guards. “You are all soldiers of Queen Nell. I will not have you brawling. But if you obstruct my men in the execution of the queen’s duty, then I shall consider it treason.”

The guards backed off and Nicolo addressed his party.

“Search the place and leave nothing unturned. Tear the tapestries from the walls if you have to. If Wylder himself isn’t here, someone is.”

The soldiers hurried off to do his bidding and Nicolo lowered his sword, offering a hand to the duke.

“I apologize, your Grace, but time is of the essence and the life of the prince is at stake.”

Duke Prius said nothing. He didn’t take Nicolo’s hand, but righted himself (which took quite a bit longer than it should have and I had to wonder if the duke had weak knees), shooting a dark look at his wife before he strode out of the room. Princess Alder watched him go with very little interest then turned to Nicolo.

“You shouldn’t allow your jealousy to get the better of you, Nicolo.” That coquettish smile was back in place and she took a few steps away from Nicolo but watched him all the while.

Nicolo sneered. “I am not a man who has ever nor will ever know jealousy.”

I wanted to snort at that but managed to keep it in.

“And, yet, here you are, Nicolo, brandishing your sword skill and making a silly example of my husband… does not that wreak of jealousy?”

“Loyalty is the only thing motivating me,” Nicolo nearly spat the words back at her and true anger burned in his gaze.

The princess laughed to herself. “Keep telling yourself that, Nic. But we both know better.”

With that, she sashayed out of the room, leaving me to wonder at what existed between them, not to mention the fact that she’d just called him ‘Nic’—a name I’d never heard anyone dare to call him. Not even Balduin.

Women were a part of Nicolo’s life, of course, and I’d seen glimpses here and there of Nicolo dealing with the ladies of the court. Though some propositions were more welcome than others, and although he could be cold and indifferent in general, I’d never seen him anything other than courteous to those of the court. But as he watched Princess Alder leave, the look on his face exuded a hatred I’d never seen from him before.

His eyes snapped back to me. “What are you looking at?!”

I was taken aback of course, but managed not to flub my words when I spoke. “I was waiting for your orders, Master.” Though I was often anxious around Nicolo, I didn’t think I’d ever been scared of him before that moment. Even the time he’d slapped me—I’d felt only shock and anger, but not fear.

His expression relaxed and he breathed out a long, pent-up breath. “Yes. Of course. Come along then, Charlotte.”

***

If Princess Alder had thought she could hide behind her royal blood, she was sorely mistaken. If anything, her royal lineage made matters worse as Nicolo was determined to leave no stone unturned.

Every room was ransacked. Barrels of wine in the cellar were upended and spilled across the flagstones; mattresses in the fine bedrooms were slit open to ensure no one was hiding within them; wardrobes were emptied; the contents of cupboards were scattered and shattered on the floor. Squealing maids ran from their dormitory as the soldiers surged through them. Angry nobles demanded to know on whose authority their rooms were being overturned, and then turned red and silent when they received their answers.

Nicolo strode through it all, easily playing the part of entitled overlord, as if making sure everything was done with as little regard for status as possible. His loyalty and love for Balduin drove him in his search for Wylder, of course, but I couldn’t help but wonder if he was also getting some sort of pleasure from it. I couldn’t forget that look of hate in his eyes when he watched the princess leave, and it seemed to me that he was taking more than just a little pleasure in the opportunity to get revenge on her. But… for what?

That was the question.

I didn’t know if it was relevant to my mission (seemed unlikely to be) but I also couldn’t help my curiosity. And surely everything I’d learned about Nicolo helped me in better understanding him as my target? Didn’t it? Of course, I’d been using that excuse for a lot of foot-dragging in the last month.

And speaking of the month that had gone by, I was running out of time to finish my job.

“Master!”

The cry echoed through the corridors of Castle Ventnor.

They had been found.

It turned out, there was no sign of Wylder himself, but a huddle of dissidents had been discovered behind a false wall in the cellars. There were two dead bodies on the floor and we quickly learned they were two servants who had been slain because they were going to report the whereabouts of the murdering party.

“The dissidents must have come in through the drains,” gaped Duke Prius, genuinely shocked by the presence of Wylder’s men in his home.

“They do that,” said Nicolo, coldly. Based on his angry expression, I was sure he realized that since there was an obvious means for how the assassins gained entrance into the castle, there was no way he could pin this on Princess Alder. Now all that mattered was finding Wylder.

“You.” Nicolo pulled one of the captured men to his feet. “You killed the servants.”

“And I’d do it again,” the man sneered at Nicolo. “Their lives are nothing in the great struggle, and nor is mine.”

I could see Nicolo’s jaw tightening even more than it already was and his violet eyes seemed to bleed fire. As I watched, I was fairly sure the color was starting to hemorrhage to red. I blinked though and the violet had returned. It must have simply been a trick of the light.

“Where the bloody hell is Wylder?” Nicolo demanded of the man.

The man spat in his face. “I will die before I tell you where to find him.”

“I’ll save you the trouble.” Nicolo’s sword moved like a flash of lightning, slitting the man’s throat so he was dead before he hit the ground.

Nicolo then turned his attention to the rest of the huddle, all staring wide-eyed at their leader’s corpse. Nicolo pointed to the next man.

“You.”

Fear was a better motivator than pain, or at least Nicolo thought so. Of course, you had to make people afraid and a dead body did that admirably, but I still found myself thinking; Nicolo had picked the man who had indiscriminately killed the servants, someone who had done something to deserve death.

When the next man hastily revealed everything he knew about Wylder and his whereabouts, Nicolo didn’t have the traitors sent back to the Great Castle for further ‘questioning’, which would involve few questions and a lot of screaming. Instead, he left them to be imprisoned by Duke Prius. They were confined so they couldn’t hurt Balduin again, but it was still a kind of mercy.

As we were leaving, Princess Alder appeared again.

“A word, Master Nicolo… If you please .”

I was fairly certain it cut her up to have to say ‘please,’ but she was smart enough to know the best way to deal with Nicolo wasn’t with angry words. Not that she’d get very far anyway, but I supposed that was a lesson she would soon learn.

“Is something wrong, your Grace ?” he asked.

No one in the room missed the flicker of fury that crossed Princess Alder’s face as she was addressed with her married title rather than her royal one. But she controlled herself.

“I request a minute of your time. It is… important.”

“Very well.”

Whatever history there was between the two of them, Nicolo was a royalist and didn’t refuse such polite requests lightly.

He turned to Whitethorn. “Take the men out and saddle up.”

Then he crossed the hall and exited with Princess Alder. Her husband hadn’t shown up to see us off and I wondered if the princess planned on inviting Nicolo in for a private audience.

Whitethorn was hustling the men as I watched Nicolo leave. Yes, Nicolo had said to take the men out and saddle up, but as far as I was concerned ‘men’ didn’t include me. Perhaps he had meant it to, but I had my excuse.

Moving as silently as only a trained assassin can, I padded after Nicolo and the princess where they retreated to a side room. Princess Alder drew a curtain across the door, but it was no trouble for me to twitch it back enough to peer through.

“You’ve been very bad to me,” she said as she approached Nicolo and started circling him, tracing a finger across his chest as she did so.

“Your Highness?” Nicolo seemed completely unmoved by her seductive tone. Bored even.

“What you’ve done to my house,” whispered the princess, her hand now sliding lower to stoke across Nicolo’s ass.

Nicolo looked straight at her and the scowl never left his features. “In general, I have never approved of men who see fit to ‘discipline’ their wives,” he said, catching Alder’s interest just as he caught mine. “I consider it unnecessary, unmanly and cruel.”

“Well, that is—”

“But in your case, I would hand Prius the rod and tell him to stop only when he was physically unable to lift his arm any longer. And even then, I would suggest he only pause long enough to switch hands.”

Princess Alder laughed to herself. “And after Prius tired?”

“Then I would take over the post myself.”

She laughed again. “Why is it… Nic … that even when you speak of beating me, I can only imagine the naughtiest of images?”

The scowl on his face deepened. “Was there a reason you called me here, Your Highness? Or are you just giving your friend more time to escape?”

Princess Alder pouted. “Why do you insist on thinking the worst of me? You think I would harm my own brother? My own blood?”

Nicolo’s eyes were narrowed and his jaw was tight. “I do not ‘think’ it. I am sure of it.”

“You didn’t used to be so hard on me.” The princess grinned. “Although, having said that…” She stood close to Nicolo, sliding a hand down his front till she reached what she was looking for and squeezed. Even Nicolo couldn’t stop himself reacting and Alder’s smile widened, her expression victorious.

“At least one part of you doesn’t seem so angry with me,” she purred up at him.

“Purely a physical reaction,” growled Nicolo, though he didn’t remove her hand, which was now trespassing under his tunic and moving back and forth at an even pace. I couldn’t understand why he didn’t stop her? Why didn’t he throw her away from him? Unless… unless he was enjoying it?

Princess Alder was an attractive woman. I didn’t like to admit it, but she was, even if there was a hardness to that beauty. She was six or seven years older than Nicolo (there were roughly two years between each of the royal children) and I couldn’t help wondering what past they might have had, and how old Nicolo had been when those events had clearly occurred.

“It was always purely physical between us,” the princess said as she kissed her way along Nicolo’s jawline. “It could be again. We had fun together, Nic, did we not?”

“If that’s how you choose to remember it...”

Princess Alder laughed at that. “Your hurt pride makes you forget the good times. So, consider this a reminder.” Her hand was moving faster now. “You and I, Nicolo. Lovers. Rulers. That was how it was always meant to be.” She paused as she looked down at the obvious girth in her hand. I could see the outline of it underneath Nicolo’s trousers and it was certainly… impressive.

“I’m not interested in you and I,” Nicolo ground out. “Wydler—”

“Wylder is a fool; a means to an end,” she interrupted.

“I’m sure he views you quite the same way.”

“Once Balduin is out of the way, it will simply become a question of who kills whom first. But with you by my side, Nicolo, with you—in my bed—I wouldn’t need Wylder…”

Her arm was a blur when Nicolo grabbed it, tugging it away from him and twisting it behind her back in one quick move. “I’d sooner share a bed with Duke Wylder, himself, then ever bed you again, you revolting harpy.”

The princess’ eyes went wide as a frightened gasp escaped her. “You didn’t always feel that way.”

Nicolo pushed her away from him so hard, she nearly lost her footing, but managed to steady herself against the wall.

“I was young. Used to doing as I was told.”

“You can’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it,” she insisted.

“You may have had fun, but they were not happy memories for me.”

As he started for the door, I hurried away, blending in with the shadows of the corridor just beyond. Behind me, I could hear Princess Alder screeching invectives, insulted by Nicolo’s rejection.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” he said on a snide laugh. Then I heard his footsteps as he walked from her room. He paused and then returned, stopping at the door. “Don’t think your sheltering of dissidents will be forgotten, your Grace .”

And then he was gone.