Page 75 of The Swindler’s Daughter

Every weapon being held by our little band of outlaws was dropped to the ground with a resounding clatter.

I sank into a curtsey, my eyes fixed to the floor, determined to remain there until I was given permission to stand straight—no matter how long that might take. The boys all bowed, and each of us murmured a polite “Your Grace” even as our voices trembled.

I heard one of the boys swallow. Trouble did not begin to describe our situation.

“You are trespassing in my home,” the duke stated.

“Yes, Your Grace,” I muttered and heard similar sentiments of agreement from the boys.

“Stand up so I can look at you.”

We all rose, but I for one kept my gaze at the duke’s feet. I was too afraid of what I might find if I were to look into his eyes.

“Light the lamps and take their weapons,” he said. There was a shuffling while a couple of men who I assumed were guards carried out the orders.

I managed not to flinch when my quiver was taken from my shoulder and my bow removed from my sight.

“Are any of you employed by me?” the duke asked once the corridor was well lit and all of our weapons had been confiscated.

John and Tyson stepped forward.

“Your positions?”

“Groundskeeper, Your Grace,” John answered.

“Gardener,” Tyson said, though his voice barely carried.

The duke was quiet for a moment, and I was too curious to keep my gaze down. I looked at his face, wondering what could possibly be going through his head right now.

For the ruler of a nation and a man who had just caught five ruffians hiding out in his home, he seemed strangely calm. His expression was more curious than anything. That fact left me hopeful, though I fully expected that hope to be dashed at any moment.

The Duke of Winberg let the silence stretch as he studied each of us. The eerie quiet pulsed through me, making me sweat as I fought the urge to fidget.

“Rumors have reached my ears at the capitol. Rumors of poaching and thievery.” His gaze moved from one of us to the other as he made his speech. “I was determined to leave the handling of it to the magistrate. But as more rumors poured in, I realized it was odd that the Murrwood magistrate had not reported these incidents himself.” Suddenly his eyes were fixed on my face. “You,” he said. “You are not employed here?”

I swallowed. “No, Your Grace.”

“Tell me what you know. I am curious to see how it lines up with the other reports I’ve heard.”

My face went numb as terror and guilt pounded through me. I was sweating and shivering but I found the fortitude to do as instructed.

My voice shook horribly. “The magistrate, Your Grace. He is new. He has been in charge less than a year.” I swallowed again. Might as well get to the point. “He is corrupt, Your Grace. He is cruel.”

“Corrupt how?”

I gripped my left hand with my right, squeezing my fingers ’til they hurt. “He and his men, they steal from the vendors at market. They put new taxes in place. Taxes so high and so grievous that many families could not pay and still feed themselves.”

The duke’s jaw tightened and his eye twitched, but he remained silent.

I took a deep breath, preparing to explain more, but then a thump sounded from the sitting room. My heart pounded harder and I sucked in a breath.

Worse, worse, worse.

The duke’s eyes cut in the direction of the sitting room door then back at us. “Would anyone care to explain that?”

“I—” My throat closed off. I couldn’t get any more out and my entire frame had started to shake.

The duke took mercy on me and turned to Rowan. “You. Explain.”