It had been three days since the crazy encounter with Catherine. The next day, she approached me and apologized, and our relationship settled into a friendly one. She no longer tried to get close to me. I didn't feel like she was not interested in me, but more like I was too poor to be a prospective match, which, in my opinion, worked out perfectly.

I rarely saw Elizabeth or Aramis, but when I did, Elizabeth would glance at me occasionally. Also, she was no longer gripping her hair every time she saw me, so that was progress.

Aramis, however, was a different matter. The guy was cold towards me. It was not as bad as Marcus was, but it was definitely not friendly. There was no menace in it, however, so I tried not to judge him too harshly. I had caused a lot of problems for his girlfriend, and on top of that, I was not going to be able to fix it so that they could marry. Well, that wasn't exactly true. The cloth idea would probably work. What merchant didn't want exclusive rights to a product? Also, my uncle would make a tidy sum on the taxes once production had ramped up. I was not planning on bringing up the cloth until I fixed the relationship or right before they left. I really didn't want our future relationship to be based around me giving them something. I admit it was probably a stupid thing to worry about. The likelihood of meeting any of these people again was rather small. Especially Arimis or Elizabeth.

Over the next few days, I actually started enjoying the painting sessions with Count Blackwell. He was very interested in painting and how I made the paintings come alive. I shared many of the concepts of painting with him, but it was all general stuff, so I wasn't worried about my abilities spreading. Knowing how something worked was a lot different from putting in the thousands of hours that made it work.

Fortunately, things sped up when I also started painting Count Vimb in the afternoon. Vimb was the exact opposite of Blackwell. He was young and did not have the refined, stately appearance of Count Blackwell. He also flaunted his wealth by having gem-encrusted gold rings on every finger, and his scarf of title had more silver thread than red on it.

His attitude towards me was that of someone who had to be in the presence of a foul smell. He did not speak to me; instead, he had a servant who spoke to me. It was probably the most awkward conversation I have ever had.

On top of that, I was not allowed to use a model. He wanted his picture done with all his finery but refused to let anyone else wear his stuff. So rather than being able to just paint his face, I had to listen to his gripe to his servant about the laziness of the Duke's painter at every session that I actually needed for his body. It was good that all the people I was painting had the same background because otherwise, I would have needed him more often for positioning.

Finally, the day came when I ran into Elizabeth alone. I went to the pond in the garden to throw crumbs to the fish. As I was walking, Elizabeth suddenly stood up from behind a rose bush. I stepped back in surprise, and upon seeing me, her hand immediately went to her hair. Before things could get out of hand, I gave a shallow bow and said, "Forgive me, Elizabeth. I did not realize you were here. I will come back later."

I turned and began to walk away.

"Wait," Elizabeth said softly.

I turned and looked at her. She studied my face for a long time. "You aren't him," she said confidently. "Your eyes are different. Amos' eyes were cruel. He was always angry. I- I read the words written in Trish's book. She said you wrote them. I saw some of the sketches you have drawn. That monster could not have created such beautiful words and pictures. I don't know who you are, but you aren't him."

I don't think she actually believed those words, but she was looking for a way to cope with the situation. I decided to help.

"No, I am not the boy you met four years ago. He is long gone. We will never see him again, and the world is better for it," I said simply.

That was probably a cruel thing to say about a kid who had a terrible childhood, but I think it was what Elizabeth wanted to hear.

"Thank you." And with that, she turned and left the garden. The sight of me probably still made me uncomfortable.

After that, however, she stopped fleeing my presence or refusing to meet my eyes. She even attended a few of the evening events at the Rat's Tail. Many boys seemed interested in her and would carry on polite conversations with her and Catherine. Aramis, however, stuck by her side and made sure none of the boys took advantage of the situation to get to know her better. The only time he left her was when the ladies would separate from the men and do book readings.

Catherine had been mainly occupied with the social scene. At first, I had been taking her to balls, and Carter and I would make introductions, but now other young men were inviting her, and we would occasionally attend separate events.

All seemed to be going well until Duke Kimton started showing up during the times I was painting.

"I understand you have been explaining your art to Count Blackwell. You will show me how you make these amazing paintings," He said in a voice that brooked no argument.

I was completely stunned by his demand, to the point where I didn't even respond. Suddenly, my brain turned back on when I could see he was starting to get angry.

"Of course, my lord. Forgive me for my speechlessness. I was just overwhelmed by the request. It would be an honor to show you the art of painting," I said humbly.

Unfortunately, the duke demanded a much more thorough explanation than the count. I was required to explain every movement of my brush and the reason for each color I was using.

Soon, another canvas was brought in so that I could show examples of things he had questions about without disturbing the count's painting. Sometimes, he would suddenly request food, and we would have to pause and wait for him to finish eating.

Then, a third canvas was brought in so that he could practice. Fortunately, the painting seemed to calm him down. He would still get angry, and he got in the habit of slapping me when something didn't go right, or he wasn't satisfied. An explanation I gave him. Some might question whether that was really any better. I would say yes because it was a more consistent behavior.

I had just finished a session with Count Vimb and was heading home when I noticed that Benjamin was trying to hide something that was bothering him.

"Spill it, Benjamin. What is wrong? Did the meeting with your father not go well?"

"I wish I was better at hiding my emotions. But this is- it is-" he paused for a moment, "My lord. The duke is planning on killing you."

I could feel the blood draining from my face, and my muscles went weak as I slumped in my seat of the carriage. "Are you sure?"

"No. But I hope that is the case. The alternative is much worse."

I was trying not to freak out. "Tell me."

"One of my father's agents had a conversation with someone. The duke said after he learns all he can from you, he will make sure you can never paint again." Benjamin said as solemnly as he could manage.

"And you don't think that means killing me?"

"I hope that is what it means, but as I said, I don't think so."

"What do you think it means?"

"If he were kind, he would just burn out your eyes or maybe cut off your hands. But, my lord, that is not what he likes to do when he has decided to get rid of someone. Depending on how insane he is feeling that day, he will demand torture. I will not tell you the details, but I have seen the results of what he does to people. You will need to find a way to flee. If you are willing, I will support you."

Of course, I was going to flee. What sane person would not attempt to flee when they would be tortured until they were insane? I- Unless…

"Benjamin, tell me the truth. What are the consequences if I manage to escape?"

He hesitated, "My lord, it…It is your only option."

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"How many of my people will suffer?"

"He will…" Benjamin sighed. "The manor and the village of Bicman will be burnt to the ground. Everyone in the manor will be killed. He probably won't touch the villagers. Everyone who might be close to you will be executed and possibly tortured."

This no doubt included Benjamin. Yet he was still willing to help me escape. Even if we were to gather as many as we could and flee, where would we go? He would hunt us down and punish even more people if he couldn't get a hold of me. If I fled others would be tortured. This news should have depressed me, but surprisingly, it strengthened me. I sat up straight and said, "Then I will not flee. I promised to defend my people, and if this is my last act, then so be it. I am honestly surprised that I lasted this long."

We sat in silence on our way back to the manor, and I went to my room immediately upon arrival. I would be lying if I said I did not become depressed. Not just for me and the fear of being tortured. But for my friends and my people. I had wanted such amazing things for them. I wanted to better their lives. And maybe what I had done would be enough, but I would never see it.

I would not be there to help with the preparations for the Rabiss raiders. I would not be there for Hyrum or Carrie's wedding. I would not help Jorb’s son Mathew learn to sketch. I would never get to see Emily again.

I pulled out some of the last paper I had brought. It wasn't the book paper—just some cheap stuff to write notes on. I first wrote down my thoughts on everything that was on my mind. Then, I pulled out a sheet and wrote a letter to Draves and Marshandra. I thanked them for everything they had done for me. Then I wrote another to Edward and the various headmen, thanking them as well and giving my thoughts on their various projects.

Last, I pulled out some parchment I had purchased. It had been even more expensive than I thought, but I wanted to compare the parchment they had in Kimton to my book paper, so I splurged. I used it to write a letter to whom I considered my first friend in this world. I told her how much her friendship meant to me and how much I wished for her happiness. It took a long time to find the right words to say to Emily, and I wrote the last portion by candlelight.

I thought that I would not be able to sleep that night, but all the emotions that I had expressed drained me so thoroughly that I fell into a deep sleep.

*******

When I woke the next morning, I thought everything that had happened was a nightmare, but then I saw the stack of letters. Before I could spiral, I began to sketch. I sketched various pictures of my barony and pictures of places I had been to on my travels. When my heart had finally settled, I started my morning routine.

As I was getting dressed, Benjamin came in.

"My lord, I want you to keep this in your hidden vest pocket," he said while handing me a small pouch. It contained the powder that Becca, the crazy garden hermit, had given me.

I was not pleased to see it again. "Benjamin, why is this still around?"

He shifted uncomfortably, "I don't know why I kept it. I meant to throw it out many times, but every time I looked at it, the lady's warning kept popping into my mind. My lord, if they take you to the dungeons to torture you, I want you to take this. It would be better to die than deal with the torture they will put you through."

"We don't know what it does. It could just be hallucinogenic."

"I will try and find something else that will kill you."

Geeze, thanks Benjamin, what a great friend.

I knew he was trying to help the only way the thought he could but still.

He continued. "The purchase of what I get will have to come through my father, though. Otherwise, it will get back to the duke, and they will assume you intend to poison him. It may take a few days. Keep this on you in the meantime. Even if it is a hallucinogenic, it may take away the pain or make you seem like you have already gone insane, so they let you go.”

When we arrived at the castle, Benjamin turned to me. "Remember, we have time to think of something. It may be a year before he is through with you. A lot can happen in that time."

True, but it could also be today.

I nodded and left for the room where I would be painting the count. We would be done with him shortly.

"You look unwell, young man. Are you ok?" Count Blackwell said.

"I am just a bit fatigued. I did not sleep well last night," I replyed

"Ah, a troubled mind is not something that any man can escape. Perhaps we can convince the duke to allow you a day of rest," the man said.

"I am fine. It will pass, and I will have no problem continuing." I said as I continued to set things up.

"Well then, let's get started," he said with a smile.

It was about an hour later that the duke came in, and instruction began.

"Why did you mix that darker red? It does not look like his outfit," the duke asked as I was about to apply some paint to the count's scarf.

"It is because of the lighting. This will give the illusion of a fold in the scarf and give it depth," I said as I began to apply the paint.

The door opened, and two servants came in carrying bowls of something that was steaming.

"My lord, we have brought mushroom soup with new wine and cheese." a servant said.

"Do not distract me. I am painting. Set it on the table and do not return." The duke said.

We continued his lessons as I helped him create a forest on a mountainside. The smell of the soup was distracting. I had not eaten breakfast, and my stomach began to growl at the thought of the food.

Something tickled the back of my mind. A remark that seemed like the ramblings of a crazy lady at the time. "It goes well with soup." I muttered.

I felt my breast pocket as a lightbulb clicked on in my mind. Is this what she meant? Did she really have clairvoyance, or was she just a mad woman who liked her mushrooms? Did she seriously expect me to poison the duke? This was the duke. I don't care if he was crazy. This was murder. Or was it self-defense? Would I not defend myself if he had a knife pointed at me? No, this wasn't the same. But would it be a bad thing?

This man was a murderer. He delighted in the sorrow of others. The food had already been tested for poison. All I had to do was find a way to get the packet in the soup. So many wrongs could be avoided if this man was dead. His son would take his place. I had heard that his son was a decent man. But I would be a murderer. I still had nightmares about ordering the execution of everyone in the thieves' camp. Images of unknown women and children cut down in a bloody massacre. This would be murder by my hand.

Then, I was brought back down to reality. This wouldn't work. I could not get close enough to the soup to do anything anyways.

"Boy, what is your problem? You are supposed to be watching me. If this painting is ruined because of your inattention, I will have one eye removed from your head. You only need one to see."

I growled internally. This man was evil. How many people had died because of his foolish whims? I needed to find a way to kill him. Even if I die with him, I will pay the price.

Trying to cover up my anger, I said, "Your picture is coming along nicely, my duke. The trees are starting to come alive. Count, come take a look." Trying to make the compliment sound sincere. Actually he was pretty good and a quick learner. Painting really did seem to relax him.

"This I must see," the count said as he got up from his chair.

"Boy, get me my wine," the duke said.

My heart started to beat rapidly in my chest as I looked at the table. Two knives sat on it. I could grab one and plunge it into the duke's back, but the guard would see and reach me before I got to the duke.

My thoughts spun rapidly as I got to the table. Looking behind me as I grabbed the clay decanter of wine, I glanced over and saw that all eyes were on the painting. I could grab the knife or…

I pulled the pouch from my pocket and quickly dumped the contents entirely into the duke's soup. I didn't dare look up. Fearing that doing so would draw attention. I held my breath as I put the packet away. I was afraid that at any second, the guard would attack me.

I poured the wine and returned to the duke with the cup.

He slowly sipped on it as he explained the painting to the count. After appreciating his own work for a while, the duke invited the count to the table to eat. I continued working on the painting of the count.

About halfway through the meal, the duke suddenly started to become louder. "That is the problem with the king. He has spies everywhere! Always trying to find out what I am doing. And then there are the demons! They come in the night and try to rip my head from my shoulders."

I was shocked when I looked over. The duke was staring off into space, rambling, but Count Blackwell looked absolutely calm. He turned to the guard and said, "Please have one of your men get the healer. It seems as if the duke is having one of his episodes."

The guard stuck his head out in the hall and began to speak with someone. Meanwhile, the duke became even louder. "Demons! You are all demons!"

This caused the count's expression to change. Apparently, the episode was more than he expected. Then, without warning, the duke grabbed the knife off the table and lunged at the old count.

Faster than I thought possible for such an old man, the count's knife was in his hand. The guard and I both froze as the duke knocked the count out of his chair, and they both fell to the floor.

Then I was in motion. If the count died, they might kill me just for being here. I rushed around the table to find the duke plunging the knife into the count's lifeless body over and over again. I reached the duke at the same time as the guard. The duke had a wound on his left side, and blood was leaking onto his fine clothes.

It did not stop him, though. He continued to mutilate Blackwell's body. "Pull him off. We have to stop the bleeding, or the duke will die." I shouted to the guard. I didn't really want the duke to live, but if he died without us doing anything, we could easily be blamed.

The guard wrapped his arms around the duke and pinned his arms. I grabbed the tablecloth and yanked it off the table. I ran forward and tried to get the wadded cloth in my hand to cover the wound while fending off the knife that was still being swiped back and forth by the duke.

I grabbed his wrist and held it while trying to press the cloth against his wound. I felt a sharp pain in my leg and looked down to see the knife sticking into my thigh. I screamed in pain but continued to try and cover the wound.

A second guard arrived, and they were able to force the duke down as I fell on top of him and continued to press down on the wound. The guards finally managed to completely subdue the duke as my mind began to become hazy, and I could no longer focus through the pain. I heard shouting all around me as I drifted off into oblivion.