A World Without Heroes - Brandon Mull [139]
A footman opened the carriage door and set a stool on the ground. Jason followed Count Dershan out of the coach, accepting a hand down from the sallow-faced attendant.
Dershan guided Jason directly to the uniformed gentleman. “Duke Conrad of Harthenham, allow me to introduce our esteemed guest, Lord Jason of Caberton.”
Duke Conrad inclined his head and torso stiffly. Jason mirrored the slight bow. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Conrad said, his words clipped and precise. He extended a gloved hand, and Jason shook it, the firmness of the grip catching him by surprise. Duke Conrad stood a few inches shorter than Jason and stared up at him with keen, dark eyes. His face had a narrowness that accentuated his hollow cheeks and aquiline nose. Jason noticed that Conrad had twisted his gloved hand slightly so that Jason was shaking with his palm upward. A friend had once told Jason that whichever hand was on top won the handshake. Jason opened his hand, ending the subtle contest.
“I was glad to receive your invitation,” Jason said.
“And I am overjoyed to welcome you into my home,” Conrad said with little enthusiasm, his perceptive eyes weighing Jason. “Please feel at liberty to explore the castle and the grounds. Consider all of it yours.”
Jason felt a sudden temptation to ask if he could have one of the duke’s medals. Or maybe just unpin one and put it on. But the goal was not to make this man an enemy. The goal was to appear docile. “I appreciate your hospitality,” he said.
“Come,” Conrad instructed, whirling briskly and leading Jason through an elaborate set of double doors. “Your feast of welcome is in the final stages of preparation.”
Jason followed Duke Conrad down a grand hall to a marble fountain. Emerald liquid splashed from the spout to the basin, giving off a fruity scent. A massive gold and crystal chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling, hundreds of candles flickering. A row of evenly spaced servants stood unmoving against the wall.
“Would you rather dine immediately or retire to your rooms for a time?” Conrad inquired.
“What would you prefer?”
“An answer.”
Jason felt chagrin. Conrad had abrupt arrogance down to an art. “Then I would like to see my rooms first, and eat soon afterward. Will that work?”
“You are the guest of honor,” Conrad said dryly. “We are overjoyed to accommodate your schedule. Derrik.”
A pale servant detached himself from the wall. “Yes, milord.”
“See that the feast is set to commence in thirty minutes.”
The man bowed low and hurried away.
“Cassandra. Conduct Lord Jason to his apartments.”
A woman against the wall lowered her eyes and curtseyed. Jason could not help noticing that several of the female servants were very pretty.
“This way, milord,” Cassandra said courteously.
Jason followed her down halls and up stairs, past magnificent hangings and sculptures, until they reached a set of white doors accented with golden scrollwork that resembled leafy vines. The doorknob was worked into the likeness of a rose.
Cassandra opened the doors and escorted Jason inside.
Jason paused in the doorway, gawking.
He had never seen a more elegant room.
Blues dominated the color scheme, complemented by whites and silvers. Artful arrangements of brilliant flowers blazed from ornate vases, making the room smell like a blossoming field after a gentle rain. Masterful paintings and sculptures were spaced tastefully around the spacious salon. Unobtrusive murals of pastoral scenes decorated the high ceiling. Jewels studded the luxurious furniture. Jason could envision any article in the room behind glass in a museum.
In a neighboring chamber he found an enormous bed. His parents owned