The King's Traitor (The Kingfountain Series Book 3) (25 page)

She looked agitated and flustered, which made him long to reach out and touch her. She shook her head no, but wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“That’s good, because I plan to shave the rest off this morning,” he said. He gave in to temptation and reached out and took her hand. “Thank you, Sinia. Thank you for making sure I was wearing that ring.” He kept his voice low. “I wouldn’t have survived otherwise.”

She looked up, seeing his face again. A timid smile crept onto her mouth. “I know,” she answered. Then she blinked. “I almost forgot. Iago wanted me to give this to you. It’s from her
mother
.” Owen was impressed that she’d mentioned Elysabeth without flinching. She withdrew the sealed note from her girdle and placed it in Owen’s hand. He stuffed it quickly into his pocket to read later, but did not let go of her hand.

“It has begun,” he told Sinia.

“It has,” she agreed.

It was the breath before the plunge.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

The King’s Wrath

The hearth in the throne room had been stoked with enormous logs and was blazing, but the cavernous space had an unshakable chill. It was the second morning since Genevieve’s disappearance, and the king’s wrath was terrible to behold. He’d cast out the guests in a fury so he could receive an update from Kevan.

“I said, begone!” Severn shouted at a serving girl who was hastily trying to clean up a spilled platter. The girl went white and fled the room.

Owen had positioned himself near the doors, and was watching as Kevan brooked the king’s temper with as much courage as he could muster. The Espion were in disgrace again. Owen struggled to conceal a smirk—his ruse was working exactly as he’d planned, although he hated to see Kevan endure the brunt of the king’s anger. He saw Drew approach the door, trying to slip away with the rest. The lad had a worried look on his face, but Owen caught his eye and winked at him as he neared the door.

Drew’s face brightened in an instant. Owen nodded to him and then whispered the word
library
as he passed.

Lady Kathryn was still standing by the dais, and she too bore a worried look. Genevieve’s disappearance had caused her deep anxiety, but Owen hadn’t dared tell her the truth. He would try to later if he could manage it discreetly.

Owen nodded to the guardsmen to shut the door and then approached the king, who continued to rail on Kevan.

“What is it, I ask you, about the Espion being unable to keep track of little children!” Severn said contemptuously. “I want answers, Kevan, and they best be good ones!”

“My lord,” the Espion said, discouraged. “I’ve had everyone I can spare—”

“You can spare!” the king thundered, interrupting him. “I told you to put every spy in the city on alert!”

“Let him speak, my lord,” Owen said, closing the distance. “Curb your temper a moment, if you can.”

The king shot Owen an angry look, his lips trembling with rage.

Kevan gave Owen a grateful nod and shrugged helplessly. “We don’t know how she got out of the castle. She simply disappeared. When her chambermaid arrived in the morning to light the fire, her bed was empty. It would appear she’s been kidnapped.”

“But how? How could she have been removed from the city without anyone knowing?” the king asked in exasperation.

“We’ve secured the roads, the port, searched every ship in the harbor, Atabyrion or not,” Kevan explained. “The only lead we had has led to nothing.”

“What lead?” Severn demanded. “I should toss out the lot of you. Why do I pay for a spy service that botches everything!”

“Tell him, Kevan,” Owen said.

“Tell me what?”

Kevan swallowed, as if to banish his rising impatience. “I heard a rumor that the sexton of the sanctuary may have seen her yesterday morning. I went and spoke to him myself. He described a man and a woman who were at the gates when the sanctuary opened. They had a little girl with them who matched Genevieve’s description. The sexton swore by it. The man he described to me may have been Dragan. Do you remember him, my lord? The thief we captured who tried to release Eyric?”

Owen watched as the expression on the king’s face shifted from anger to recognition, then to betrayal. Kevan may not have noticed the subtle changes, but Owen had been studying him closely.

“Yes . . . yes, I do,” the king stammered.

Kevan scratched his ear. “The sexton swears he saw them enter but not leave. I asked the deconeus if the girl had claimed sanctuary, but he looked as surprised as I’ve ever seen a man. No one had claimed sanctuary that day, and it was the first he’d even heard about the girl. I had men search the entire premises yesterday, from basement to loft. Every crate, every bushel, every closet. I thought I’d have good news for you today, my lord, but there was no sign of her there or at the port.”

Owen stepped forward. “My lord, after hearing Kevan’s report, it’s my belief that this Dragan fellow was involved in Genevieve’s disappearance. I also believe, my lord, that he has some sort of special access to the palace. I don’t have any proof, but I believe he may be Fountain-blessed. If so, that makes him a dangerous threat. Imagine what will happen if Iago finds out. You would be blamed for it.”

The king’s eyes narrowed at the deliberate reference to his nephews who’d disappeared.

“I had no hand in this,” the king said, but his voice had lost confidence and bluster.

“Of course not, my lord,” Owen said sympathetically. “But that won’t stop Iago and Elysabeth from assuming the worst. I fear my vision will come to pass and we will be invaded by all the other kingdoms. I know you sent Catsby to the North, but I have a suspicion that they will turn on him like wolves if Stiev’s granddaughter shows up with war banners. If we lose our grip on the North, we lose a significant number of once-loyal soldiers, the core of your supporters!”

The king rubbed his mouth and started pacing with a pronounced limp.

Owen glanced at Lady Kathryn, who seemed keenly interested in the conversation. Was she piecing the clues together on her own in a way that Severn couldn’t?

“What do you suggest then?” the king asked Owen.

“I’ve ordered the Espion to hunt down this Dragan fellow. I think there are some questions he must answer.”

The king looked firm and resolved. “I want you to bring him to me when you catch him.”

Owen bowed respectfully. “Kevan will see to it right away.”

Severn looked confused. “If he’s Fountain-blessed, shouldn’t you oversee it?”

Owen shook his head. “My lord, I think it would be wise if you sent me to the North. Catsby has managed to offend every lesser noble and the entire staff of Dundrennan. I know those people, having spent much of my childhood there. Let me see if I can rally them. I’ve already ordered Captain Ashby to muster my army and start marching to Beestone castle. Then, depending on where we’re invaded, I can split the army if needed. I’ve sent word to the Duchess of Brythonica to watch her borders for movement by Chatriyon. Do you agree?”

The king stared absently at the flames. Owen suspected he was cursing himself for trusting Dragan. He had hoped the king would admit to his double-dealing, but he wasn’t surprised that he had not, especially in front of his lady.

Severn brooded awhile over the flames. Then he turned and shook his head. “I won’t send you North, not yet.” His eyes shone with burning anger. “I want you to lead the search for Dragan yourself. I think you may be right about his gift, and if so, you’ll have a better chance of finding him than anyone Kevan sends. Bring him to me. I know how to kill someone like him. You may get your chance to go North after you’ve caught him. There is a snow-covered peak there where the Maid of Donremy froze to death. Bring me this thief lord. I’ll show him no mercy if he’s harmed the girl.”

Owen had manipulated the king by asking to go North right away. The pieces were falling just as he’d hoped and planned.

“Very well, my lord,” he said stiffly. He bowed curtly and then turned to leave.

“Lord Owen?”

It was Kathryn’s voice. She’d followed him into the corridor leading off the throne room. It was empty, but the palace was riddled with spy holes and he couldn’t know if it was safe to speak frankly with her.

“Yes, my lady?” he asked.

She wrung her hands as she approached. Her eyes were worried and puffy, and he could tell she hadn’t slept much.

“I know you are doing everything possible to find her,” Kathryn said softly. When she reached him, she cast a look back at the double doors leading to the throne room. The guards stood at attention, but they were too far away to hear their conversation.

“I am, my lady,” he answered simply, keeping his expression neutral.

Her voice dropped lower. “No need to disguise yourself with me, Owen,” she whispered. “I’m not fretting because of Genevieve. I’m worried about the king. I’m worried about what he may be planning.”

Owen wrinkled his brow and said nothing.

Her voice was very quiet and confidential. “I asked him about whether he believed in your prophecy,” she said. “He won’t let himself accept it as truth. At least not yet. The snow is an early winter, he says. He’s convinced himself the Fountain’s portents are childish superstitions.” She bent her head closer to his, giving him a pleading look. “I . . . I asked him what he would do if it
were
true. What if a boy does draw a sword out of the fountain?” She blinked rapidly, and he saw her eyes fill with tears.

“What did he say?” Owen asked.

“He said it would never come to that,” she whispered. “If we get invaded, he plans to round up all the young men in the kingdom and summon them to Kingfountain. He said he’d prove the Fountain’s power wasn’t real.”

Owen stared at her. “How?”

She shook her head. “He wouldn’t say. But the look in his eye made me afraid. My lord, you promised me my son would be safe. That you’d protect him. I almost feel that if I
told
the king the truth, he’d see reason and relinquish the throne voluntarily. Maybe we can avert all these troubles? But do I dare risk it? When he is
such
a man?”

Owen looked at her with growing concern. He shook his head slowly. “Don’t tell him.”

Kathryn squeezed her eyes shut, and a single tear raced down her cheek. “I won’t.”

“I need to go speak to your son,” Owen whispered. “Come with me. He’s in the library. I think it is time he knew the truth.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Thief’s Ransom

Drew was nestled on a cushion by the window, poring over a book, when they entered the library. The light shining on his hair gave him an otherworldly cast. His eyes were so earnest and absorbed that he reminded Owen of himself, how he had always found sanctuary in this place. He wondered how many times the boy and Genevieve had found their way into the library together. Kathryn paused at the threshold, staring at the boy with such tenderness and longing that it pained Owen to see it.

He gave her an encouraging nod and gestured for her to approach the lad first, which she did. She nestled at the edge of the cushioned window seat, her eyes caressing his face.

“What are you reading?” she asked softly, reaching out to brush away a piece of his hair.

Drew didn’t look away from the book. “A book about the Lady of the Fountain,” he said, chewing on his little finger. “She was an Ondine.”

“A what?” Kathryn asked.

“An Ondine,” Drew replied. “A water sprite.”

As the words came out of the child’s mouth, Owen felt a ripple inside his heart that made him shudder. He walked closer, stepping so softly his boots didn’t scuff on the carpets.

“I’ve not heard of them,” Kathryn said with a curious tone. “The Lady of the Fountain was one, you say?”

“Mmm-hmmm,” the boy said, gazing down at the words with an almost dreamlike expression. “Ondines are gifts from the Deep Fathoms. They look like us, but they aren’t truly mortal. People find them on the shore after storms. The Lady of the Fountain who helped King Andrew was an Ondine. They are very powerful and good.”

Owen swallowed, his heart wrenching with emotion. He could feel the magic of the Fountain pulsing around and inside him. He needed to ask Polidoro for more information about Ondines. Perhaps that was Sinia’s origin instead? A feeling of certainty rang through him like a bell.

“I’ve always liked this library,” Owen said, announcing himself as he approached the corner of the window seat.

Drew lifted his head at Owen’s words. “I didn’t hear you.” He closed the book and set it down, his body suddenly tense. His eyes were penetrating for one so young. “Is she safe?”

He knew instantly whom the boy meant. “Yes.”

Drew looked relieved. “I wish I could have told her good-bye,” he said with a hint of melancholy.

Owen suppressed a smile. “She felt the same way. She’s with her father again, on her way back to Atabyrion.” He kept his voice pitched low deliberately, but they were alone in the room. The spy holes were all along one wall, and the window seat was far away from them. Kathryn glanced up at Owen and then looked down at the boy, her lip trembling.

It had to be done. The secret was wriggling furiously now, trying to escape. Owen felt it tearing him apart inside. He didn’t know what was going to happen. But he felt he could not contain it a moment longer.

“When I told you to meet me here, I wanted to let you know that she was safe,” Owen said. “But there is also another reason.”

Drew dangled his legs over the edge of the cushion. He patted the book and a sad look crossed his face. “I’m leaving again. Aren’t I?”

An exquisite pain wrung Owen’s heart. He wanted to tell him all of it, but he couldn’t. It was too much to unload on such a young boy. One secret at a time.

“Do you want to go?” Owen asked.

Drew shook his head miserably. “Duke Horwath is dead. Catsby hates me, and he doesn’t want me to become one of his knights. Can I go back to Tatton Hall with you?” he implored. “I think my mother is from Westmarch. I’d like to go to Westmarch. I’ve never been there before.”

Looking at the child’s despair was heartbreaking. Was this how Ankarette had felt? Kathryn was struggling to keep her composure. The boy looked so forlorn and unwanted that Owen experienced physical pain in his chest.

“You were born in Westmarch,” Owen said thickly, reaching down and tousling the boy’s fair hair.

Drew nodded, but didn’t meet his gaze. “You don’t want me to go with you?”

Owen stifled a snort, amazed at the power of the feelings twisting him apart. “It’s not that, lad. I just don’t think it would be right. To separate you from your mother again.”

He watched as his words wriggled inside Drew’s body. The boy was staring at the floor, but then a look stole over his face—confusion, recognition, realization. He raised his head and looked at Owen with a sort of hesitant hope. Then he turned and looked at Kathryn.

The young boy’s face continued to contort as the knowledge swept through him like a flood. “You? You are my . . . my maman?”

Tears rained down Kathryn’s cheeks as she nodded vigorously and then clutched the boy to her bosom, pressing hot kisses against his hair. His small arms clung to her, and Owen heard the shuddering sobs start in his chest.

Taking a step back, Owen stared at the two, his own eyes stinging with tears, which he roughly brushed away. He had to be strong. He had to do all that he could to bring this boy to the throne.

Owen knelt down by the side of the window seat and put his hand on Drew’s knee. “I had to tell you now, lad. There is more I cannot tell you quite yet.”

Drew wiped his nose and looked at Owen in astonishment. “Are you my father?” he demanded.

Owen chuckled softly. “No, lad. I’m your protector. The Fountain put you in my charge when you were born. All the times I came to Dundrennan? It wasn’t just to consult with the duke. I came to check on you.”

Drew was beaming with newfound joy. “I’m not a foundling,” he whispered to himself.

Owen nodded. “You are not. I will tell you more later, but know this. You cannot tell the king what you know. You must stay away from him, do not let him even touch you. He has power in his words. He can make you
want
to tell.”

Drew stared a moment and then he pumped his head up and down. “He’s done it to me before,” he said. “In Dundrennan!”

“You’re going to stay at the palace for now. I’ll be leaving for the North soon, if all goes well. When I return, I will tell you more of the secrets surrounding your birth. It has not been easy for your mother to have you raised away from her. She loves you, boy. She loves you deeply. As if I needed to tell you that!” Kathryn’s arms were still wrapped around the boy.

The boy was positively beaming. “I want to take a coin to the fountain,” he said seriously. “I have a crown I’ve been saving. I’d like to put it in the fountain now. I’ve been meaning to use it to ask the Fountain who my parents were.” He smiled. “I feel I should give it the coin now just to show how grateful I am.”

Owen rose and mussed the boy’s hair again. “I’ll take you there myself. Now, I have some business to attend to. I think the two of you should spend some time alone together.”

Drew nodded eagerly and turned to Lady Kathryn. “I always imagined you were beautiful,” he whispered shyly. Kathryn took his hands in hers and then kissed them. “Parting with you was my greatest sorrow.”

Owen left mother and son alone.

Back in the Star Chamber, Owen picked through the heap of missives that were back on his desk after he’d scattered them days ago. After he’d sorted them in the order he wanted, he slumped into the chair and tried to summon the motivation to start reading them. He was hopelessly behind in his duties as master of the Espion, but his attention was more focused on dethroning his king than on preserving him. He tapped one of the scrolls against his lip and then opened it and started reading. The words blurred before him as he thought about young Drew’s reaction to meeting his mother. The memory warmed him and only added to his distraction.

A knock sounded at the door, and Owen gave the order to enter.

Kevan appeared with a small tray of berries. “These just arrived from Brythonica, I was told,” he said. “A gift from your betrothed?” On the tray was a note written in Sinia’s elegant flourishes.

Owen saw the tray and smiled, nodding and gesturing to the desk. Kevan popped one of the berries into his mouth and blinked in surprise. “Quite tasty. I’ve heard good reports about the berries of that land. Perhaps you can arrange a change in my assignment once you become the Duke of Brythonica?”

Owen smiled and scooped up a few berries himself. They were delicious and sweet, so very sweet they made him blink in surprise. “Are you so anxious to leave Kingfountain, Kevan?”

The Espion chuckled, his hands clasped behind his back. “I don’t know how much longer I can endure it, to be honest,” he said. “The king’s temper is getting worse, if that’s possible.”

Owen smiled and picked up another berry. Kevan looked longingly at the tray, and Owen gestured for him to help himself; he did.

“You’re a capable man,” Owen told him. “And I appreciate you. I have been known to assist others to assignments better suited to their interests.” He smiled, thinking of Clark and Justine.

“I’m not asking for an assignment in Atabyrion, if that’s what you mean. I was Clark’s mentor long ago, but I have no desire to follow him there. If I may speak freely, my lord?”

“Of course.”

“I have a feeling that the king will still replace you as head of the Espion when this is over. I’ve enjoyed serving you, Lord Owen, and I would gratefully follow you to Tatton Hall or Ploemeur or wherever else you go. I speak this truthfully.”

Owen felt a flush of pleasure at the man’s words. “I value loyalty,” he said, wondering if he should take the Espion into his confidence. He’d tested Kevan with his magic before and found him to be genuine and forthright. And he was quite capable with his diplomacy skills; he could be an asset.

“I know you do,” Kevan said, nodding. “I hope I’ve demonstrated mine.”

The secret door in the room opened and Etayne rushed through it, startled to see Kevan there. He bowed to her and turned to leave.

“No, stay,” Etayne said, forestalling him.

Kevan turned with curiosity on his face.

“I’ve arranged a meeting with Bothwell. My . . .
contact
,” she said, giving Owen a knowing look, “said he agreed to meet me at the Candlewood Inn.”

“I know where that is,” Kevan said. “It’s near the sanctuary. Bothwell is Chatriyon’s poisoner, correct?”

“Yes, the one who poisoned our people in Edonburick,” Owen said. “He’s in the city. I’ve meant to tell you, but I’ve been too distracted of late. I told Etayne to arrange a meeting—”

“So you could swarm it with Espion,” Etayne finished for him.

Kevan looked flummoxed. “Most of my men are busy seeking Iago’s daughter. Let me gather as many of them as I can. If he’s at the Candlewood, it’s an opportunity worth seizing. How recently did your contact give you this news?”

Etayne flushed, but her expression was full of steel. “Just now. Bothwell’s there. I’ll go with you. I’ve defeated him before.”

The Espion looked relieved. “We’ll be grateful to have you with us. The longer we delay, the more we risk losing him.”

“I agree,” Owen said. “If you can capture him, then do so, but I wouldn’t shed tears if you impaled him with a crossbow instead. Well done, Etayne.”

She flushed and gave him a smile before turning and leaving the Star Chamber with Kevan.

Owen sat back in his chair, nibbling on berries from the tray. After getting rid of Bothwell, the next man to fall was Dragan. But how can you catch a man who can’t been seen? What a cunning gift from the Fountain. He rolled one of the scrolls from the table across his palm, imagining how he could set a trap to catch the thief. Etayne’s father had managed to infiltrate the dungeons, and somehow the king. Did he know about the Espion tunnels? It was likely he did. A sour feeling crept into Owen’s stomach.

Dragan was no fool, and the fact that he’d use his own daughter to further his interests was evidence enough of his lack of morals . . .

Owen’s stomach turned over, and he squirmed in the chair with discomfort. He was thinking about how to set a trap for a man like Dragan, but perhaps the thief may have already set a trap himself.

The onset of cramps in Owen’s stomach was so violent that it was an unmistakable confirmation of his suspicion. He moaned and felt his legs turn to jelly as all strength left them. The tray of berries on the table was eye level with him.