Page 6 of The Swindler’s Daughter

“Because I don’t enjoy being the bearer of bad news.” Princess Marilee let out a sigh. “It’s going to be Reeve,” she said carefully.

There was one long moment of tense silence. “He’s to be Murrwood’s new magistrate?” Cecily burst out, her voice hard with anger.

“Unfortunately,” Princess Marilee confirmed. “I realize he was only doing his job, but from what you’ve told me about your encounter with him, I can’t like that he’s the one taking over for Phillips.”

Cecily snorted. “No, indeed. He seems to take pleasure in violence, and he enjoys the power. He was more than happy to help the captain force my hand.” I saw her brow furrowed in consternation as I was leaving. “He’s a terrible choice for such a position.” Cecily’s indignant voice faded as I returned to the kitchen with my arms full.

So we were to have a new magistrate? And one that Her Highness did not approve of. It was difficult for me to imagine that it would change much about our lives. I’d spent so many years traveling, never a citizen of any specific town or village, that worrying about local politics still seemed strange. In the life of a peddler, lawmen were meant to be avoided and never trusted. So the idea of not trusting this new magistrate felt normal to me, and yet both Cecily and Princess Marilee seemed deeply concerned by it. I suppose it was just one more example of the way my early years made me different.

Cecily’s concerns stuck in my head, and my curiosity about the situation wouldn’t let go. What had this new magistrate done to convince her he was such a terrible person?

That evening, I climbed the stairs to the room I shared with Nellie, another maid. Nellie was quiet and content.

She had also been here longer than I had. “Nellie?” I asked, interrupting her efforts to ready for bed.

She looked up at me. “Hm?” Nellie didn’t feel the need to fill the silence, and she didn’t expect others to either, but when I did have something to say, she was always a good listener.

“Were you here when that man—a captain, I think—came for Cecily?” I’d heard bits and pieces of the story from Emeline but didn’t know all the details. By the time I’d come to work here, Cecily was already married and had a family and home of her own to keep her busy.

“You mean Captain Huckley?”

Was that his name? “I think so.”

“No,” she said, tying a knot at the end of her braid. “That was before my time. Why do you ask?”

“I think perhaps the new magistrate was involved somehow. He left a very bad impression on Cecily and Her Highness.”

“Who is it?”

“Reeve. Do you know him?”

She shrugged. “Not really. He’s a constable, has been for years, and he takes great pride in it.”

“Hmm.” We lapsed into silence and I readied for bed. I’d have to pay better attention when I was in the village. I liked the little corner of life I’d made for myself. I didn’t need a lawman to disrupt it.

2

The market of Murrwood Village was full to bursting. I was enjoying my time away from the manor. I loved my job and was grateful for a safe place to live. Hunter had found stability for both of us when he’d brought us to Sutton, and I valued that tremendously, but I had accepted long ago that there would always be an ache inside me to see a little more of the world. I suppose that’s what comes of growing up in a peddler’s wagon with a father who was always chasing the next festival or the next mark to swindle.

I missed traveling across the realm. I missed sleeping under the wide expanse of stars when the weather allowed it. So my days of walking to the market and doing the shopping for the Sutton Manor kitchens were good for me. And as it turned out, the things my father had taught me were good for more than swindling people.

I had excellent negotiation skills.

“Three coppers?” I asked, balking at the cost that Selworth was demanding. “I’ll give you two.”

“Afraid not, Miriam.”

“Fine then. Three. But you’ll need to throw in an extra measure,” I said, gesturing toward the bowl of nuts from which he’d taken the original amount.

He shook his head. “Can’t do it.”

“Two extra measures.”

His eye twitched. “What?”

“Three extra, and a vial of that oil.”

“Miriam—”