Hands of the Carver (Curse Of The Nobleman Book 2)

Book summary

When Peytra Sike's curiosity unleashes a curse that takes her husband, Duke Jors Ameros, she embarks on a perilous journey to save him. Accompanied by friends, she faces formidable enemies and a race against time. "HANDS OF THE CARVER" is a captivating tale of love, magic, and mystery by Laura Diaz de Arce.

Excerpt from Hands of the Carver (Curse Of The Nobleman Book 2)

The frigid winter wind wrapped itself around Peytra as she stood at the window her husband had crashed through. Her feet were bleeding, and her fingers were numb in the cold, but she did not move. She wiped her eyes and looked out into the night for any sign of Jors. His figure had disappeared minutes before above the trees towards the North. He’d been swept away by a sinister wind in the darkness– right after she’d betrayed his trust. Overcome with curiosity, she had lit a candle while he slept in their marriage bed, to see him, just to get a look at the man she had given her heart to and married. A man who she had only seen masked, and who she’d only touched while blindfolded. All she had ever assumed was that he had been badly burned years ago, and had hidden his appearance due to that. She had no reason to doubt the story she had been told from the start. What she doubted was that Jors had any real reason to hide himself from her. Had he been disfigured, she would have loved him all the same.

Jors had never told her, not directly, that there was any other reason why he should hide himself from her. There was no denying it now, as Peytra stood in the shards of the castle window, having had her eyes taken over by a malevolent force that activated when she dared to look at him in the light. It had been an evil magic that had stolen him from their bed and whisked him into the air and out to the darkened heavens. Peytra had never cared, nor thought to believe in magic, until it had taken him in a way she could not explain. The shock of it all was a blunt against the freezing air.

She had seen magic once before when three gods had possessed her friends, Marcus and Kori, and her brother, Peytire. At the time, she had thought it was a dream or a waking nightmare. Kori’s eyes had been filled with an unnatural golden glow while a goddess with an echo in her voice warned her about a curse. As she stood naked in the large window frame searching for Jors in the distance, she tried to recall just what they had said. But everything was the chill and the sting of her feet, and all her memories were colliding into a grieving remembrance of Jors. The memory and thoughts were locked away in the cavernous shock. That traitorous candle snuffed upon the floor.

She was in his room. Or their room. They had not been really clear on what or if anything should change now that they were married. It was littered with both their things. His books in multiple languages were stacked against a corner table. His boots were at the side of the door. Some of her sketches and tools were haphazardly strewn among the tables. Those sketches were now fluttering in the winter wind and teasing her with their cracking. Her room was much the same, strewn with the vestiges of both of them even as it remained foreign to her at times. His room had the memory of him in it. It had the worn marks of his hands on the well-used furniture. It had his scent and the echo of his voice. It was one of the few places Jors felt comfortable enough to unveil himself of his mask and of all the confines he had placed around his body.

Peytra never planned on sleeping in “her” room ever again now that they were married. She wanted to be a part of that unveiling, privacy and trust.

What had she done instead? She’d broken that trust and she was left standing in front of an absent window that may as well have shattered the last of their love.

A call went out. Then another. Soon the outside and inside of the castle was pure commotion as the alarm sounded. There was a loud knock at the chamber door. Her voice would not work while choked up with grief. Her eyes were still wildly scanning the night sky for any sign of what had happened. When she did not answer, two guards tore through the door. They found their new duchess standing naked in the glass remnants.

One of the guards to break through had been Georgie. He was one of the first friends she had made when she arrived. He still addressed her with informality, hoping to coax a notice from her. “Peytra? Peytra? What’s wrong? Where’s his grace?” He approached her gently, the way someone might approach a wild, rabid animal. His unarmed hands were spread ahead of him pleading for her attention. At the same time, he gestured to the other guard to bring a blanket from the bed

Peytra stood still, glued to the spot with feet pierced to the floor. Everything felt loud in sense, but quiet in sound. She was still grappling with what she had seen and done, and her emotions ran wild with fear, anger, and guilt. It all narrowed to the racing of her heartbeat that drummed like thunder in her ears.

Georgie’s steps disturbed that quiet, but Peytra did not move nor was she able to acknowledge him. There was the wind that swept everything in its gale. There was the falling snow that imitated the stars and made the distance a haze. And there were those desperate eyes of hers that searched for Jors in the darkness. Absently, she noted that she was cold and bleeding, though she would do nothing about it.

Georgie put his hands lightly on her shoulders and tilted her face to his. His boots had made too much noise on the shards to be inconspicuous. Outside the window and in the hall, it was a cacophony as the shouting voices continued to rise. But inside the room, it was eerily quiet, even as the frigid wind whipped the drape back and forth. Each crunch of glass may as well have been a canon.

“Peytra? Peytra? I’m going to lift you up and carry you out of all this glass. I need you to not fight me, can you do that?”

There was a strangled sound in her throat and Georgie took that to mean her acquiescence. He bent down and grabbed her waist and lifted her up over his shoulder. Georgie wasn’t a tall man by any means, and Peytra was just a bit shorter, which made for an awkward perch. His thick boots allowed him to prioritize speed over delicately navigating the debris which helped him keep her balanced. He set her on the bed just as the other guard wrapped a blanket around her. By then there were already people piling up in the hallways and someone had called for the physician.

Hue pushed everyone out of the way, bringing the physician and her apprentice in, both still in their nightshirts. The physician was an old woman with deft fingers and an even keener sense of discretion. Without a question, she got to work on the new duchess’s open injuries. The apprentice, while still in her robe and her hair wrapped in a silken cloth, held open a box at the physician and they whispered to one another as the physician plucked the shards one by one. The apprentice did her best to resist looking up to scrutinize their patient.

“Everyone out!” Hue roared. The older soldier’s voice held an unmistakable air of authority “Only the leads to the room!” He pointed to a young guard. “James, keep everyone out.” The guard helped hustle the other guardsmen out and took his place outside the door.

Most of the residents pushed back into their rooms or duties while whispering to each other, except for the redhead barrelling forth while waving a freshly dusted rolling pin, followed by a determined brunette whose hair was still up in tied rags. “Yes, everyone out, Donahue, but if you think I’m not going to see my lady after what I just saw, you better put that idea straight up your arse.”

Gani, the cook with a temper as fiery as her ovens, pushed right past him with Kori, her partner, on her heels. Una, the duke’s accountant and steward, followed right after. Gani expressed a frightened gasp when she saw the broken window and looked over to Peytra, bleeding feet visible from her perch on the bed. The physician continued removing the shards, each making a hollow echo in the tin bowl she’d commandeered. Their pings set a rhythm to their nerves.

Hue barked a bunch of orders to his waiting troop on the outside hall, scolding the guard James for his passivity, and sending another guard out to relay orders. He scanned the room upon closing the door. “Looks like we’re all sworn to secrecy until further notice. That includes you.” He gave a pointed look to the physician and the physician's assistant, who nodded and went back to their work. “I have no idea what I saw, but whatever that was was the most unnatural thing I’ve ever seen, and, Peytra, I’m going to need some answers.”

“Will you give her a minute? Can’t you see she’s in shock?” said Gani, making her way to Peytra to tuck her more firmly into the blanket that was wrapped around her.

If Peytra had been in any way coherent, she would have teased Gani for all her henning at her, but it barely registered. It was just noise somewhere else.

“It was Jors,” said Kori, wringing her skirt with her hands. “We were sitting out back of the kitchens having a nightcap and we saw it. I saw him, his body crashing out of the window. I would recognize that golden hair o’ his anywhere. ‘Twas like he were being carried by an invisible bird.”

“I saw it too, after the sound of the crash. His body flung like that,” said Una. “It was Jors, wasn’t it, Peytra?”

Peytra could only nod, and she began choking and gasping on the cold hitting her lungs. Gani took her hand to help settle her, and she was coming back, bit by bit.

“We can’t tell anyone!” said Gani. “It will do nothing but cause absolute chaos!”

Georgie swept some of the shards with a booted foot. “I have some good men on the northern side, they saw it too. I think they’ll be good about…”