The King's Traitor (The Kingfountain Series Book 3) (6 page)

Her lips pursed; her eyes narrowed slyly. She looked quite pretty, and it distracted him. “But then doesn’t a new game start?”

Owen was only too grateful to leave Kingfountain behind, though he worried what might happen in his absence. Kathryn was a strong and courageous woman. But he could see the cracks in her, the weakness of the constant stress on her soul. King Severn was nearly twice her age, but she was young enough to bear children. And the king was ever patient.

Owen and Etayne reached Tatton Hall two days later. He had sent word ahead to his herald Farnes to assemble an escort to ride with them to Averanche and from there to Brythonica. Owen had never entered the duchess’s lands before. He had heard reports that some of the most fertile valleys and farmlands existed in Brythonica. The mildness of the weather was famous, and the sea air purportedly made the crops more plentiful. The duchy was renowned for growing berries of all sorts, and some had jokingly dubbed past rulers the Duke of Berries. There were ships coming and going constantly from her ports to carry the delicate fruit to the far reaches of other kingdoms.

Despite the circumstances, he looked forward to finally meeting the duchess, Lady Sinia. Although they had been neighbors for many years, she never left her domains for fear of abduction. Owen wondered secretly if the lord marshal also played a part in her reticence. Was he truly the power in Brythonica, as Severn supposed? Was she living in an opulent prison much like Kathryn? If that was the case, then perhaps disrupting it would be a strategic move.

After dismounting in front of the manor doors, Owen handed his reins to a groom. Etayne was windblown, but they had oft traveled together, and he was accustomed to seeing her this way. His servants knew her true identity and treated her with wary respect.

Farnes waited at the head of the column of servants standing to greet the duke upon his return.

“I told you I don’t like the formalities,” Owen said in a grumbling tone, looking at everyone standing idle and attentive.

“I know, my lord,” Farnes said with a wheezing rasp in his voice. He’d had trouble with his throat in previous years, but he was determined to continue serving. His eldest son, Benjamin, was being groomed to take his father’s place. Unfortunately, the son was only twelve. “But we have guests, and I thought it proper to greet you more formally this time.”

“Guests?” Owen asked with concern. He had not received any messages about these guests, and as the head of the Espion, he hated surprises. He had the sudden impression that Marshal Roux was there. The man had a nasty habit of anticipating Owen’s actions. “Who?”

“Lord Tidwell,” Farnes said. “And his
daughter
Ida. Lord Bascom and his
daughter
Prynn. There’s also a wealthy merchant from Genevar who stopped at Averanche first and then came to Tatton Hall when he heard you were returning. I think he has a daughter in tow as well. And then there is an heiress from Brugia who is staying in the village. She’s forty years old and quite determined to meet you.”

Owen stared at Farnes in disbelief. “You’re letting them
stay
in the manor?”

Farnes looked helpless. “It would be the height of rudeness not to offer hospitality.”

Owen wanted to throttle his herald. “It’s the height of rudeness to show up uninvited!”

The look Farnes gave him was scandalized. “You’re not going to send them away!” he hissed under his breath.

Owen shook his head. “No. They can stay as long as they like.
I’m
the one who will go.” He turned back to his groomsman and whistled, startling the young man. He turned to one of his captains. “The men can rest. Etayne and I are riding on to Averanche. Join us there.”

Etayne’s eyes were alight with amusement. Wisely, she said nothing.

CHAPTER SIX

Poisoner’s Gift

Owen was so exhausted when he reached Averanche that he fell asleep on a small couch with a goblet of wine still in his hand. His dreams of Ankarette were so vivid he could smell her scent of faded roses. In them, he was a child again, feeling safe because she was watching over him.

He imagined her stroking his hair and then realized that the sensation was not part of the dream. It was real. When he blinked his eyes open, he saw Etayne sitting at the edge of the couch, gazing down at him tenderly, her fingers slowly stroking his hair. For a moment, he forgot who she was, where he was, or how he’d come to be there, but the hard ride from Tatton Hall came back in a rush.

“I fell asleep, didn’t I?” he mumbled, remembering the goblet. She had set it on the table next to the couch.

“I would have tugged off your boots, but I didn’t want to wake you,” Etayne said. “You looked so peaceful.”

He rubbed his bleary eyes on the back of his hand and sat up, feeling the warmth from her sitting so near. She glided her fingers through his hair one last time and then nestled her hands in her lap. The look of yearning she gave him made him deeply uncomfortable.

“How late is it?” he asked, chagrined. The curtains were closed, but the room was dark. It was still the middle of the night. He scooted back until he was sitting up, but she did not give up her seat on the edge of the couch.

“I made sure the room was secured,” she said, looking over at the curtained window. “The latches are all fastened and set with traps. The bed looks infinitely more comfortable than the couch. There’s some cold capon and cheese over there from the earlier meals served by the castle staff. They didn’t expect you to arrive unannounced, so they’re staying up late to make sure things are ready in the morning.” She smiled at him. “I would have left you, but the door cannot be barred from outside. I didn’t want to leave you so . . . so vulnerable.”

That was a good word to describe the way he was feeling. He was exhausted from the long ride from Kingfountain. He’d anticipated a quick respite at Tatton Hall, but was in no mood to humor rich heiresses.

Etayne’s eyes narrowed. “You haven’t told me how your trip to the North went.” She reached up and smoothed hair from his brow. “Was it as painful as you suspected? You made it before Lord Horwath passed away?”

Owen let out a pent-up breath. The room was lit by an assortment of thick candles offering a small glow. He pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes, and thought hard about the question.

“It was painful, to be sure,” he told her honestly. “She’s happy with her life. With her children. Even her husband wasn’t too intolerable,” he added wryly. “She’s moved forward, that’s clear. I feel as if I’m stranded on a foreign shore now.”

Etayne nodded sagely. One of the many things he appreciated about her was that she was an excellent listener, and even though he knew she cared about him, she never tried to push her feelings on him.

“You weren’t tempted to make her forget Iago?” she prodded.

“By the Fountain, no!” Owen said with a frown of disgust. “I could never do that to her. Nor could I look her in the eye afterward.” He gave her a solemn look. “She wants me to be happy. To find someone else to love.” He shook his head. “It’s not so easy as that.”

Etayne nodded sympathetically. “Your marriage will be commanded by the king, it seems. As hers was. Do you think this duchess could win your heart?”

Owen scowled. “I’m pretty confident she’ll hate me for what I’m about to do. The king doesn’t expect us to marry. He made it patently clear that we’re going to Brythonica to start a war, not form a marriage alliance. I’m supposed to offend her, not woo her. I’m more than capable of
that
.”

She gave him a knowing smile. “Oh, you are quite adept at spoiling hopes, my lord.” She fussed with the front of his tunic. “There are no Espion working in Brythonica, so we are going there blindly. What have you heard about it?”

“Most of what I know is from the mayor of Averanche. The fashions in Occitania are quite different from those in Ceredigion or Atabyrion. I’ve heard she’s a pretty lass, but it’s well known that she rarely gives audiences. You’ll be studying her closely, I am sure,” he said with a conniving smile.

Etayne dimpled. “You know me so well.”

“I’m expecting trouble from Marshal Roux. Facing him on the battlefield may actually prove a challenge.”

“Not for you, surely!” she said teasingly.

Owen shook his head and chuckled. Feeling restless, he started to rise from the couch, and she stood to let him up. “How long was I asleep?”

“An hour perhaps. I thought you’d sleep longer. Aren’t you tired?”

“I am,” he said, stretching his arms. “I’m not going to Brythonica without an escort. A hundred men will do, I think. I don’t want to appear too aggressive or distrusting.”

She took a step toward the door before stopping abruptly. “In the game of Wizr, sometimes there are no easy moves left,” she said. She gave him a knowing look. “Each one requires a sacrifice. Let me be blunt, Owen. You intend to topple the king.” Her voice was very low and serious. “We’ve discussed this for years. Severn hasn’t named an heir yet. You believe his heir
should
be Kathryn’s son. He’s the Dreadful Deadman. How can you make that happen without deposing Severn Argentine?”

Owen stared at the bed, longing to drop into the oblivion of sleep. “I’m still working on it,” he said vaguely. His ideas were still not fully formed. How he wished Ankarette were here to advise him. She would have had it all figured out by now.

Etayne shook her head. “Your loyalties are conflicted. I can see it on your face. You are compelled to obey a king that you no longer respect. Out of duty. But your mind tells you that he’s not the man you once served. And your support of him only strengthens his malice. The other leaders of the realm look to you to act first.”

“Hardly,” Owen countered. “They look to their
own
interests. Catsby is now the duke of the North and he will plunder everything Horwath built up. He’ll strip Dundrennan to its bones. Evie and Iago may eventually persuade the king to give it up, but what they’ll end up with will cost them more than it benefits them. I’ve seen the same thing happen to other lords of the realm. Even if I
were
to marry the duchess, do you think the king would allow me to keep so much power?” He snorted.

“Then what are you waiting for?” Etayne pressed with growing frustration in her voice. “The king to grow old and die? Owen, he’s barely fifty. He’s still as strong and hale as he was twenty years ago. Why do you wait?”

Owen stared at her. She had asked an honest question, and it deserved an honest answer. He sighed wearily. “Sit down on the couch, Etayne. This may take a while to explain.”

“I’m not tired,” she said, but she promptly obeyed.

He went to the table next to the couch and fetched his goblet. He took a sip of the currant wine and winced. It was a bit tart. He set it down and then perched on the edge of the couch, looking down at the poisoner.

“Have you heard the story of the Duke of Bollinger?” he asked.

Etayne frowned and shook her head. “No. Was he from our history?”

Owen nodded. “Bollinger is the name of the royal castle in East Stowe. That’s where he was born, so it became his common name. Until he became king. From then on, he was known as Henricus Argentine.”

Her eyes widened with understanding. “Yes, I do know that name.”

Owen continued. “Elysabeth told me this story years ago. She loves history more than I do. Henricus was the Duke of East Stowe. The king at the time, much like Severn, was a brash man who pitted his nobles against each other. His marriage was childless, so he had no heir. You can imagine the infighting that occurred as the many Argentine cousins sought to be named his heir. One of these was Bollinger.”

Etayne looked thoughtful. “He was banished from the realm, wasn’t he? I do recall something about that.”

Owen was impressed. “It was over an argument he had with another duke. The two of them were snarling like hounds for scraps, so the king banished them both. The duke of the North was banished for life. Bollinger was banished for a set time. While he was gone, the king plundered his lands to support a war against the island of Legault. The king was still embroiled in that fight when Bollinger returned, demanded his rights as duke, and proceeded to topple the king. The kingdom rallied behind him, and he was named Henricus. He spent the rest of his life trying to hold on to the power he had seized.”

Owen rose from the couch and began pacing. “Do you ever get the feeling, Etayne, that history plays itself over and over? Like some sort of farce where actors assemble and assume different roles? I feel like I’m Bollinger. That events are trying to force me to play a certain part.” He rubbed his jaw, feeling the untidy whiskers there. He hadn’t shaved in weeks. He didn’t care.

“You feel
you
should claim the throne?” she asked him softly, almost eagerly.

“No!” he shot back, dousing the flame before it struck the tinder of his ambitions. “But I can see why Bollinger was
tempted
to do it. It’s the same reason Severn took the seat. He worried about losing his wife and son after Eredur died. He was the duke of the North, a powerful man, and he feared it would be stripped away from him so that the queen dowager’s children could inherit. Of course he fought for it! And I feel the same destiny dragging me toward the same course. But I want to fight it, Etayne.” He looked at her, his eyes blazing with energy. “I don’t want to be
told
what to do. I don’t want to be swept away on a current that transforms me into another Severn.” His voice fell to a whisper. “I fear that most of all. Losing myself. I already
talk
like him,” he said dejectedly.

Etayne rose from the couch, her look serious and contemplative. She touched the side of his face. “You are not Severn Argentine.”

“
Yet
,” Owen said. “But I feel it inside me. I feel the anger. The frustration. The helplessness. The role of the conniving uncle will next be played by Owen Kiskaddon!” he said passionately. “Have you ever felt that you don’t have a choice? That the Fountain’s current is too strong? I’m trying to swim against it, Etayne. But I’m so tired already. I’m already weary and I’m still a young man. Will there come a day when I gather children around me for fear of poison?” He gave her a pleading look.

Her demeanor was serious. His words had struck something inside her.

“That’s why you won’t murder him,” she said, nodding. “Because that’s what
he
would have done.”

He shook his head. “No. Because it’s
wrong
. I know all the kings use poison on their enemies, but I believe a king should be a protector, not a destroyer. When Eredur died, Ankarette was gone. She was away on some sort of assignment. I never knew what. I think she was in Occitania, but I can’t remember, to be truthful. Why was she sent away? What would have happened if she hadn’t been gone? I shudder to think of it. I might be a feckless young nobleman in my father’s house, wishing one of those simpering girls I left back there would notice me. I’d be gibbering in fear. I would never have met Evie.” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t have known
you
.”

She smiled at the gallant comment, her expression so pleased he regretted saying it. She shook her head. Her wig was blond. He had seen her wear so many disguises, so many faces, he wondered if she even knew who she was anymore.

“So you are swimming against the current,” she said succinctly. “Trying to avoid a fate you may not be able to.”

“To do otherwise would make
me
into a monster next,” Owen said. “I would avoid that if I could.” He turned away from her and walked over to the bed, feeling so weary. “After telling me the story of Bollinger, Elysabeth said she wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t assumed the throne after all. If he had completed his exile. Who knows how long the king would have ruled. But I can imagine how furious he must have been to watch his duchy be gutted, his inheritance surrendered to others. I can imagine how Elysabeth is feeling right now. She’s in a similar position.”

He felt Etayne come up behind him, but he nearly flinched when her fingers began massaging his shoulders. “You have enough worries, Owen. You’ll need your wits about you when you meet the Duchess of Brythonica and her marshal. Can I stay with you? To watch over you while you sleep?”

He knew her offer was simply that, an offer to watch and protect him. He found her loyalty refreshing, for many of the Espion strove for personal glory. But she could not stay. The same soft touch that was easing the tight muscles in his shoulders was also invoking stirrings of pleasure. His body was rebelling against him. He knew everyone thought he and Etayne were more than merely friends. It would be so easy to surrender to others’ expectations. She would never betray him.

But he couldn’t do that. He shook his head slowly no.

Etayne’s eyes crinkled a bit as the rejection came, but she was an excellent actress. She walked slowly to the door and then twisted the handle. “Don’t forget to bolt it,” she reminded him.