The King's Traitor (The Kingfountain Series Book 3) (16 page)

Owen stared at her, his heart yearning to know more. “Until the river stops flowing.”

“Until the river becomes
ice
,” she corrected.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Alliance

Because of the Wizr set, the king’s deeds and misdeeds wielded control over the weather. He did this unwittingly, but the more evil his actions had become, the more the snow had fallen on Ceredigion. Owen nearly gasped aloud from shock.

“I think you’re beginning to understand,” Sinia said, giving him a prodding nod. “You must say it, Owen. I can’t tell you everything, but I can tell you if you’ve figured it out. Knowledge about the game isn’t forbidden. But I can’t share the mantic truths with you directly. You must learn them for yourself.”

Owen stared down at the set, at the king representing Severn. There were so few dark pieces left on the board. “Are you saying that the words were changed over time? That the protection would last so long as the river flows, meaning until it’s frozen over?”

“Precisely,” she said earnestly. “The one who wears the hollow crown can
make
the river stop flowing through his violation of the principles upon which the sanctuaries were founded. When a ruler stops being just. When they are unfaithful. These are examples.”

Owen nodded in understanding. “That is why Tunmore was so desperate for the set to be moved!” he said, beginning his habit of pacing. “This was years ago. He thought Severn was going to freeze the kingdom! He needed someone who was Fountain-blessed to move the chest to St. Penryn because he couldn’t. Why here?”

Sinia smiled with excitement. “Yes . . . why here? What does your intuition tell you?”

Owen snapped his fingers. “Because St. Penryn isn’t part of Ceredigion at all. It is by tradition, but it was once part of Leoneyis. Once the set left the borders, the curse stopped.”

She gave him a lovely smile and an encouraging nod. “You’re close, Owen. It did not stop the curse; it merely slowed it. If you return the Wizr set to Ceredigion, the curse will set in once more—and quickly. The game plays on. It
must
play on. Have you not noticed the winters in Ceredigion growing ever colder and bleaker these last seven years? We each have a role to play. I don’t want Ceredigion to be destroyed. I don’t want its people to be trapped in a blizzard and frozen to death, just as much as I don’t want my own people to drown.”

Owen stared at her, feeling the awful weight of pending doom. The memories of the drowned cove of Edonburick and the ruined buildings of Brythonica still made him tremble. “You’ve been helping me all along, haven’t you?” He looked her in the eye. “When your people aided mine during the battle of Averanche, I saw the white Wizr piece on the board. That was . . . you were
there
, Sinia?” He stopped his pacing and stared at her in shock.

She reached out and grasped his hands in excitement. “I was! I couldn’t
tell
you. Do you remember the storm?”

“You caused it? Through the water bowl! The grove! By the Fountain, that was you!”

Her smile was even brighter. “I was there. I have been helping you. The Fountain needed you to protect the true king of Ceredigion. You know the prophecy of the Dreadful Deadman. You know who it is, don’t you?”

Owen nodded. “I do. And he’s at Kingfountain palace right now if I’m not mistaken.”

“You’re not,” she added knowingly.

Owen sighed and looked up at the support struts of the chamber. “And there’s a good chance I’ll be a dead man if I return.” Her hands were still holding his. He pulled away and wiped his mouth, his mind whirling with the flurry of revelations. He looked over and saw the deconeus standing beneath an arch, his eyes full of reverence and awe.

“Don’t be so sure of that,” Sinia said meaningfully. “Your man Farnes left a message that you’d been summoned back to the king.”

Should he trust her? If the duchess could see the future, then aligning himself with her might be his only chance for survival. Assuming, of course, that she wasn’t deliberately misleading him. It came back to the ability to read someone’s intentions. Ankarette had decided to trust Evie after meeting her in the kitchen of Kingfountain. Owen had to make the same fateful decision.

He glanced back at the deconeus.

“He cannot hear us,” Sinia said. “All he can hear is the lapping of the fountain waters. He sees me as a manifestation of the Fountain. He thinks you are having a vision.”

Owen chuckled. “So do I.”

“Do you trust me, Owen?” she asked hopefully. “I’ve tried to show you that you can. Neither of us wants our people to perish. But they will, Owen, if you don’t stop the king.”

“I believe you. Trust is difficult for me.”

Her look changed dramatically, into one that was full of pain. “I know it is,” she said emphatically. “You’ve made many decisions without knowing the consequences. The Fountain has guided you during those critical moments. Even knowing the future, I cannot tell you what will happen. If I tell you something out of order, it may influence your decisions. In the end, it’s our choices that affect what happens in the world. You must be the one to choose, Owen. I will guide you as best I can.”

“How can you trust me?” Owen said. “My lady, I killed Brendon Roux. I didn’t know who he was, but I left him for dead. I think you already know this.”

She let out a mournful sigh and nodded. “Let me put this simply. In order for
you
to change sides on the board, another piece needed to be removed. You are meant to be my protector now. If you choose to accept your fate, if you put on the ring he gave you, if you make a promise of fealty to me, then your piece on the board will change color. You will become a knight on the white side. I cannot make you do this.”

Owen wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. “Chatriyon’s side?” he chuffed.

She shook her head seriously. “No. King
Andrew’s
side.”

Her words cut him to the quick, melting his smirk away. “This is real, is it not?”

“All too real,” she answered. “This game of Wizr is perilous.” She stepped up to the board, admiring the remaining pieces. “The Wizrs of old made the rules. The game wasn’t called Wizr back then. It was called the Siege Perilous. The Wizrs
survived
when kingdoms fell. Then they would offer the game to another man ambitious enough to rule.” She looked at him pointedly, but could not say what she was thinking. He saw the secrets hidden in her blue eyes, the longing to tell him that which she could not share. “Do you have a plan, Owen? A way to defeat the king?”

“I’ve been working on one,” Owen said, shaking his head at the vastness of the task. “It was rather simple. I’m afraid you’ll laugh.”

She reached out and touched his arm. “Never fear that.”

He firmed his courage, deciding to make the leap. “Everyone knows the legend of King Andrew. How he pulled a sword from the waters of the fountain of Our Lady. No one else was able to touch it. He had that ability because he was Fountain-blessed. Something similar happened to the Maid of Donremy.”

Sinia’s smile encouraged him to continue.

“She too pulled a sword from a fountain before helping to crown the Prince of Occitania.”

“The story repeats itself over and over,” Sinia said. “Go on.”

“I think I know where her sword is,” Owen said. “If the legends bear true, it was also King Andrew’s sword.” Lord Horwath had made him swear he wouldn’t tell the Occitanians. But did that promise include the Duchess of Brythonica, who had been Ceredigion’s ally for so long? If he was going to accept her help, he needed to trust her. And he did believe what she had told him. The feelings from the Fountain had been compelling, and he had learned to trust them. “There are ice caves in North Cumbria. Duke Horwath told me of them before he died. I think the sword is there. I thought . . . well, I thought to fetch it and bring it to Our Lady of Kingfountain. I have the power to put ancient relics into the water and remove them. So I hoped to trick Severn. To trick everyone, actually. I was going to say I had a dream that the true king of Ceredigion would be able to draw a sword from the fountain of Our Lady. That it’s a sign the Dreadful Deadman has returned. And then I was going to arrange for it to happen. Basically, I was going to cheat!”

Sinia stared at him with a smile of pleasure. “And why would that be cheating, Owen? Did not the Wizr Myrddin do the same thing?”

Owen looked at her, startled. “He did?”

She nodded. “Andrew
wasn’t
Fountain-blessed, Owen, he simply surrounded himself with those who were. It was Myrddin who allowed him to draw the blade, and Andrew’s greatest knight was a man named Owain.”

His heart shuddered at the words. “I’ve never heard that,” he gasped. “I’ve never heard that name in all the legends I’ve read.”

“Of course not,” she answered simply. “Because the record was lost when Leoneyis drowned. That version of the story stopped being told. The version that talked about Owain. And how he married the Lady of the Fountain.”

A small pink flush rose on her cheeks, and she looked down, suddenly abashed.

“But you know the story,” he whispered, his heart hammering painfully in his chest. She looked so beautiful in that moment, so vulnerable. Like the butterfly she was named after.

She nodded, still unable to meet his eyes.

Then another question struck him, fast as an arrow bolt. “If you know their story, then you know how it ends. Don’t you, Sinia?”

She was uncomfortable now. He could see her anguish in the curl of her mouth, her clenched fists, and her trembling arms.

“Tell me,” he insisted.

There were tears in her eyes as she looked up at him. “I can’t say it,” she whispered.

But he already knew. Her look told all. “Owain betrayed her,” he said, feeling disgusted with himself even though he hadn’t done anything. The same story had been told over and over. Different men and women playing different roles. “Am I right?” he pressed.

She looked at him steadfastly. Then she nodded once.

Owen breathed in through his nose. “Are these stories preordained? Must they always happen the way they did in the past?”

She shook her head no. “There is always a choice. Always.”

He realized that so much in life depended on choices. He had chosen to forsake love after losing his chance with Evie. His choice had deprived him of opportunities. It had also prepared him for this one. Could he open his heart again? Could he risk the pain? But he already knew the answer—he had to. This was the decision that would help him serve the Dreadful Deadman. And he could not deny that the choice appealed to him for other reasons. That
she
appealed to him.

Stepping up to her, he grabbed her hand. “Then I’m making mine,” he said, almost roughly. “You’ve risked everything to try and help me. I don’t know why, truly. I’ve been nothing but rude and disingenuous to you. But I will not betray you, Sinia. What must I do? How can I join your side? You said I must swear fealty? I won’t let my people be destroyed, not if putting the lad on the throne will prevent it. The road ahead will be difficult, but I will not stray from it. I promise you.”

She dabbed tears on her sleeve and gave him an encouraging smile. “So will I. You must, formally, plight me your troth. And I to you. Then the knight piece will change color when you put on the ring.”

“I think we need witnesses, no?” Owen asked her.

“Yes, that is the proper way.”

Owen took her hand with one of his and waved impatiently for the deconeus to join them. He felt light-headed, filled with a strange sensation of both utter terror and happiness. Having someone like Sinia on his side, having a partner and ally to help him counter Severn made the impossible seem possible. He’d felt nothing but hopelessness while carrying the burden on his shoulders. Now she was willing to share it with him. To plot and maneuver with him.

The deconeus reached them, his eyes wide with wonderment. He hastily knelt before Lady Sinia. “My lady,” he breathed solemnly. “You do honor us. How may I serve you?” His words were fraught with reverence.

Sinia stared down at him, smiling sweetly. Then she turned to Owen and nodded for him to continue. While the proposal he’d made in Ploemeur was likely binding because of the witnesses, he wished to make their betrothal more official by actually pronouncing the oath.

“I, Owen Kiskaddon, do hereby plight my troth to you, Sinia Montfort, to be my lawful wife and to become your lawful husband. I swear to be true and faithful to this pledge, on my life and on my honor.”

The deconeus’s face trembled with joy. He clasped his hands together.

Sinia squeezed Owen’s hand. She looked radiant, but there was a smudge of wariness in her gaze. As if she wanted to believe his words but couldn’t quite trust them. “I, Sinia Montfort, do hereby plight my troth to you, Owen Kiskaddon, to be my lawful husband and to become your lawful wife. I swear to be true and faithful to this pledge, on my life and on my honor.”

The deconeus rose shakily from his knees. “May the Fountain bless it so and bind you to your oaths.”

The knowing, encouraging look the old man gave him was confusing until Owen realized, abashedly, that he was supposed to kiss her.

When he turned to face the duchess, she was blushing violently, looking rather embarrassed. Owen had not imagined his first real kiss would be in a sanctuary next to a gouty old man, a babbling fountain, and an ancient Wizr set.