Curse Of The Nobleman - Laura Diaz De Arce

A Romantic Fantasy Saga

Curse Of The Nobleman by Laura Diaz De Arce

Series Excerpt

“My goodness.” Kori looked over at Peytra at breakfast. “You look horrible.”

Peytra could almost feel the kick that Gani gave Kori under the table.

“What she means to say is that you don’t look like you got a lot of sleep,” said Gani.

“No, no, I didn’t. This is a bit of a change for me. Also, someone kept pacing above my room, and it kept waking me up,” answered Peytra. That was true, aside from her nerves, Peytra kept waking up to the seemingly random steps from above. Each dream or nightmare abruptly ended with the pounding of boots above. With huge bags beneath her eyes and an overall disheveled appearance, it was clear her nerves had done a toll on her

“Oh that! Must have been the changing or shifting of the guard. It can be a bit jarring if you never stayed at a place like this before,” Kori said.

“I don’t think so. I could sometimes hear the guard change. It was different. This pacing or stomping – it stopped and started a lot. I don’t know. Maybe it’s being in new walls that is doing it after all,” Peytra said, taking a fresh piece of toast.

Una sat down near the trio with a plate of bread and fruit. “Oh my. You look horrible!” she exclaimed, looking up at Peytra. “Are you sick?”

Gani just smacked herself in the forehead.

“New place jitters,” Kori answered for Peytra.

“Oh, well, are you feeling up to today? You’re the Duke’s first scheduled meeting. I can move it if you need to get some rest,” Una said, not noticing Kori stealing a few fresh grapes off her plate.

“No, no. It’s fine. I’m excited to get to work,” Peytra said. She just wanted everyone to leave her appearance alone and was growing ever frustrated at something so trivial.

“Well then, I’m going to need a list of supplies. Also, you’ll be meeting the Duke in the hour.”

Peytra swallowed a small bite in answer.

***

Una made it clear on the walk over that if Peytra ever got lost on her way to meet the Duke, she was to ask for the meeting room. Not his office, library, or personal study. That last room was off-limits to most members of the household and forbidden to all guests. Una didn’t even know where in the castle the study was, only a faint awareness of the room’s location. Peytra considered that as just one more way in which the Duke was strange.

The meeting room itself was sparsely furnished but painfully elaborate at the same time. In the center was a large oak table with filigree carving on the sides. Peytra looked at it and noted its quality. She remembered something faint in the back of her mind, a memory of her father doodling in a notebook and telling her that the mark of many old masters was how well they could render two things: myrtle and linden flowers. Peytra looked at the filigree a bit closer and saw that patterned among it were clusters of myrtle. This table must have been at least a hundred years old. At the same time, that little memory of her father teaching her the history of their trade opened a little knotted feeling in her throat. But she took a moment to push the sudden homesickness away.

Along one wall was a short bookcase, also exquisitely carved. Along the walls were various portraits in gold frames and a few tapestries. Despite all of the decoration, the room was large enough to not feel cluttered. But it also had the unwanted effect of making the meeting feel very cold and impersonal.

After some bowing and some formalities, they sat around the table. The Duke was seated singularly at one side. There were guards and attendants posted at the four corners of the room, as immobile as statues. Peytra tried to see if she recognized any of them, but no, these were all new people. She tried to look one in the eye, but they stood perfectly, frighteningly still.

Due to the setting and the stillness of the guards, Peytra thought that this would be a painfully boring and formal meeting. As she sat down, however, the Duke’s masked face looked over to her and exclaimed, “Peytra, You look horrible! Have you taken ill already here? I can request that my physician see you.” He began to wave to an attendant, but Peytra had taken enough already this early in the morning.

“For the good goddesses’ ever-living sake!” she said, mentally smashing the carving of him in her mind. “I’m fine! Let’s just get this over with.” For a moment, the room held its breath. The page stood in his tracks. Peytra had raised her voice to the Duke. Never having grown up around the nobility, she was not trained in the business of monitoring oneself in the presence of the higher-born. But even now, by the complete, uncomfortable silence, she was keenly aware that she had committed a dear mistake. She looked over at him, speechless and unable to read his expression behind the mask he still wore.

After a moment, his tone strained to sound matter-of-fact. “Well then,” he cleared his throat uncomfortably, “let us get to it.” Peytra could almost swear she detected a wounded tone in the Duke’s voice.

***

The meeting went by as smoothly as it could after the fact, albeit Peytra still felt as if she was balanced on the edge of a cliff. It seemed the Duke wanted to move on from her little faux pas. They discussed supplies and what she would have to do. One of the pages and Una were to take her to the doors and doorways she would be carving first after the meeting.

“And what would Your Grace like carved on the doorways and such? Your sigil? A set of patterns or something more involved?” Peytra asked, now trying to imitate Una’s professional speech pattern.

“Hmm, well. There are seven doors, are you familiar with the ‘Trials of the Polodians?’”

“Is that the story about one of the first children of Fregh who angered the sky gods and all that?”

“Yes,” the timbre of his voice showed that that boyish excitement had come back to the Duke.

“I think I remember the stories, Your Grace. My mother used to tell me the tales when I was little, but it’s been long.”

“Ah. Well.” He dramatically cleared his throat. “There were five Polodians, and you can carve a door for each one’s trial, one doorway for the curse and a final one for when they are reunited.”

“I think I remember some of the stories. One swam through the ocean in a giant shell, I think. Another had a trial by fire, if I'm correct. The one that disguised himself as a tree and had the forest help him escape was my favorite.”

“Ellith, yes, yes, that’s my favorite as well. I thought the way he tricked away from his captors was ingenious,” added the Duke, obviously enjoying the exchange.

Peytra smiled, recalling the way her mother would pull the blanket over herself to imitate Ellith’s disguise. The pang of homesickness was nursed by the warmth of the memory. “I think that story is why I like red carving oak so much.”

Una interjected at this point, looking at a clock on the far wall. “We have several histographies in the castle, should you wish to read them on your own. Or Marcus, the librarian could help you.”

“Should be interesting. I’ll need to take measurements and make a few drafts before I begin carving.”

“That should be fine,” said the Duke his voice subtly shifted to a colder tone. Peytra wasn’t sure, but he seemed dejected at not being able to tell her the stories himself.

They finished their meeting and were dismissed. The page and Una escorted Peytra to the doorways she would be working on. Peytra was shocked at the size of the doors and doorways but was determined not to show it. If anything, she didn’t want to seem any less professional than she already felt she had. However, the doorways themselves were well over a man and a half’s height at their shortest ends, and much larger than she had ever worked with. Each was a deeply grained dark wood.

“What is this?” Peytra asked while petting the grain.

“Ah, it’s mahogany. The Duke had it imported.” Una looked into her notebook, seemingly distracted. “Did the Duke seem, well, strange to you today?”

“Hmm? What do you mean? He’s been that odd since I met him.” Peytra couldn’t take her eyes off the rich undertones of the wood.

“Yes, you know, that, he’s quite, well,” Una looked up at the archway, “I just wonder whether he is ill. Or worse, struck by the madness.”

“What? Madness? Well, since I’ve met him, he’s been that way. I thought all nobles were that changeable and excitable. You know, like us folk can be.”

Una dropped her voice and made a furtive glance. “Well, yes, I’m sure they can be, but this Duke, as long as any of us have known him, has always been a touch more measured. Never raising his voice or showing much more than quiet regard. But Hue has mentioned that something is up with His Grace. On his trip, he made impulsive decisions and seemed suspect to moodiness. And here this morning, he began to get so excitable. And, no offense to you, but never once has he hired anyone, for any project, without consulting me or the accounts. It’s quite alarming if you….” Her lips closed abruptly as a page walked through the room. “You know, ask Kori later tonight,” she added one more time before the case was closed.

Peytra’s day went by quickly as she set herself to begin the massive project. Despite her lack of sleep the previous night, the work energized her. Yet something haunted the back of her mind. The Duke’s temperament was something that concerned the others employed in the household. As a child, she’d heard tales of the ways in which her people lived and died on the whims of their rulers. But Kings, Dukes, Counts, and such always seemed so far away from their little home. She did remember something about the former Duke being a tyrant when she was a just a babe, which was a reason why her family retreated to the country rather than live in their city. But her parents rarely spoke about it in front of her and the siblings. Thus far, the Duke had struck her as emotional and eccentric from his interests and the quick changes to his voice. But it was hard to conceive of what type of man he might be behind that mask.

Books In This Series

Mask Of The Nobleman (Curse Of The Nobleman Book 1)