The Thief's Daughter

by Jeff Wheeler

  Owen saw movement from the corner of his eye, and then Mancini returned from the passageway with a young woman at his arm. He recognized the girl immediately as the one he had fought with in the tower. She had on a beautiful court gown and her hair was done up in a stylish coiffure—obviously another wig. She wore Ankarette’s jewels still, and when she saw Owen, a sly smile turned the corner of her lips. Still, she did not give off the sense that she recognized him. Their secret would not be revealed by her—not yet.

  A flush of heat bloomed on Owen’s cheeks.

  “Owen, this is Etayne,” the king said by way of introduction. “She is the King’s Poisoner. Etayne, my dear, this is Lord Owen Kiskaddon. You will be reporting to him, and to him only, on your assignment in Atabyrion. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, my lord,” she said. Her eyes were twinkling with mirth at the shared memory of their earlier introduction. “I recognized him—” She paused just long enough to make him squirm a little, then added, “—by the bit of white in his hair.” She bowed gracefully to Owen.

  The king scrutinized her, seemingly curious about her comment, but then he looked away. “The two of you will need to become acquainted. It was Mancini’s idea to hire a poisoner. My brother had a girl working for him for many years by the name of Ankarette Tryneowy. You’ve probably heard chatter about her among the Espion.” The name made Owen flinch, but he managed to nod mutely, even as sweat trickled down his ribs. The girl’s eyes were watching him closely, studying him for a reaction. “Etayne is from our country. I won’t go into her past, but we’ve had her trained in the arts over in Pisan. She is very persuasive, and talented in the art of disguise, but this will be her first . . . test. Mancini tells me you are up to the challenge, Etayne. Why don’t you explain your mission to Lord Owen?”

  Owen’s heart turned a little darker, a little sicker. Before she even said her first words, he had already figured it out. But it would have been rude to interrupt her.

  “My assignment, Lord Kiskaddon, is to help you infiltrate Iago Llewellyn’s court and arrange a meeting between you and the pretender, Piers Urbick—or Eyric Argentine, if you believe his tale. My disguise will be as one of Lady Mortimer’s ladies-in-waiting. If the story is true, we will seek a way to persuade him back to Ceredigion to meet the king in person. If the tale is false . . . well . . . then I will ensure that he no longer poses a threat.”

  Owen clenched his jaw, struggling to control his own surging emotions. He felt as if he were already aboard the ship to Atabyrion—and the pitching of the vessel was making him queasy. The glee he had felt about journeying alone with Evie was snuffed out like a candlewick.

  “I still think the boy is likely an imposter,” Owen said softly. “No matter how many he has managed to convince.”

  “He’s not a boy,” the king answered gravely. “He’s older than you, and he has somehow persuaded several rulers in different realms that his claim is legitimate. It is a cruel game they are playing at. My niece is not the only one who is worry struck. There is more. Mancini . . . tell him.”

  “As you will, my lord,” the spymaster said. Owen stared at him with loathing, but he was curious to hear him speak. “I’ve seen copies of Urbick’s claims, just as you found in Chatriyon’s tent. According to reports, he was smuggled out of Ceredigion as a boy after his older brother was murdered by one of Bletchley’s men, a killer known as Tyrell. The boy was commanded not to reveal himself and was kept in the company of protectors who helped disguise his true identity. The lad has sworn this in front of lawyers. So my Espion stationed in Brugia began a search there. They found a town along a river where the lad’s parents claim to be. I have their sworn statements. The boy is likely being used by the king’s enemies in a great scheme of deceit, but the longer he remains protected by Iago Llewellyn and the other rulers, the more legitimacy he gains. We have a nobleman at Iago’s court who informed us that Urbick did indeed journey to Atabyrion after his defeat at Blackpool. You and Etayne will go to him first, and he will try and get you close to the pretender without compromising himself.”

  The king came forward, standing before Owen. Sweat glistened on his upper lip. He gripped Owen’s shoulders. “Now can you see why I must send you? I suspect he is an imposter. And I believe he has duped so many because he is either Fountain-blessed himself or is relying on the craftiness of Tunmore. But I must know the truth before I act. Elyse needs to know. I don’t want to be accused of murdering my nephew a second time. You will be able to tell if he has access to the Fountain, Owen, and I trust that you can discern if he is lying. The pretender’s life will literally be in your hands. You must be very sure. In this matter, I trust you absolutely.”

  After the interview with the king and his new poisoner, Owen managed to get Mancini alone in the Espion tunnels.

  “You should have told me this,” he said angrily, grabbing the big man’s arm and stopping him as they walked. “Why did you betray me?”

  Mancini paused and glanced back at him. “I didn’t betray you; I outmaneuvered you. That isn’t easy to do with a Fountain-blessed boy, you know. Especially one who cheats.”

  “I can’t believe you would do this to me,” Owen said with growing agitation. “You know how Evie and I feel about each other. You’ve seen us together since we were little!”

  Mancini snorted. “You fancy the girl. Anyone can see that. But Horwath has been deluding himself, and it seems you and Lady Victoria have been doing the same.” His eyes were sharp as daggers. “There is no way in the Fountain the king would allow your two duchies to be controlled by a single couple. It would rival the king’s own authority. I have consistently advised him to prevent it. Such a union would benefit the two of you, but it would be absolutely detrimental to the king’s interests.”

  “I cannot imagine how!” Owen nearly shouted, shaking with rage.

  Mancini pursed his lips. “You’re wroth. We should discuss this after you’ve calmed yourself.”

  “We will discuss it now!” Owen insisted.

  “Your wound is raw and oozing, but it will heal. You want the truth, eh? You and the Mortimer chit are two important powers in the realm. It would be an utter waste of potential to allow you two to unite instead of using you both to increase the king’s power.” He jutted his jaw at Owen. “Think on it, lad! Think on it from the king’s perspective! If Iago marries her, then he must swear fealty to Severn in exchange for his domains in Ceredigion. And it brings Atabyrion under our control through their children. You, on the other hand, have lands that border Occitania. You’ve already succeeded in growing your domains through Averanche. It’s only natural that the king wants an ally in Brythonica so that land can be used as a base to launch an invasion of Chatriyon’s realm. That entire kingdom used to be ours until the Maid of Donremy drove us out like a whipped pup. She was Fountain-blessed. Well, so are you! The king has big plans for you, boy. And those plans do not include Elysabeth Victoria Mortimer!”

  Owen felt the fires in his heart burn off into ash. He was sick inside. If there had been a bucket nearby, he would have retched into it. He sagged into the corridor wall, staring incredulously at the Espion master.

  “I . . . I love her, Dominic,” he said, his throat clenching with agony.

  The spymaster gave him a rare pitying look. He reached out and tried to rest his hand on Owen’s shoulder, but the younger man shoved it away.

  “And what does that have to do with a political marriage?” Mancini said in a disquieting way. “I had begun to fear you’d spent too many years in the North. Horwath has trained you to be a duke. You are his equal, not his inferior. He’s hinted to the king that you and Evie are fond of each other. But the king never supported such a match. Best you deal with this disappointing truth sooner rather than later, boy. It will only cause you pain if you hold out hope.”

  Owen shook his head defiantly. “I’ll figure out a way,” he said.

  Mancini coughed a chuckle. “You do that, lad. But if I were in your pla
ce, I’d use this trip to Atabyrion to say good-bye. She is the proper marriageable age. She would make an excellent queen. You, on the other hand, haven’t even reached your full potential yet.”

  “I thought we were allies,” Owen said with suppressed fury.

  “I never deceived you,” Mancini said. “You did that to yourself.” He turned to leave, then paused and looked over his shoulder. “Etayne will keep an eye on the two of you.” He chuckled softly. “She is a masterpiece of treachery, Owen. I had her trained by the very best. Remember that she is loyal to me.”

  When King Eredur was forced to leave Ceredigion, he took his younger brother Severn to the kingdom of Brugia with him. They were hosted by one of the princes of its great cities. King Eredur had a wandering eye, it is said. With so many rumors abounding about this pretender, one must simply consider all the possible options. Perhaps the boy has convinced so many he is Eredur’s son because he is a child of the previous king and bears his likeness. But that does not make him a prince.

  —Polidoro Urbino, Court Historian of Kingfountain

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Promises

  Owen paced in his chambers, his mind whirling with schemes for how he could overthrow the king’s plot to marry Evie off to Iago Llewellyn of Atabyrion. He needed to talk to her, needed to see how she was handling such ill tidings. He hated the fretfulness and consternation caused by this turn of events. Finally, the bustles and creaks in the palace started to wane.

  After tripping the latch to the secret door in his room, he fetched a candle and started off toward Evie’s chamber. He was grateful that he had spent so much time wandering the secret passages of the palace under Ankarette’s guidance. His mind wandered to the King’s Poisoner in the tower, Etayne, who had taken to wearing his friend’s gowns and jewels. It made him uneasy that she would be traveling with them to Atabyrion. But what worried him even more was that King Severn had charged Owen with judging whether she should use her abilities. Defeating someone in battle was one thing. Murdering him in the dark was quite another. The prospect of being involved in such a thing did not sit well with him.

  Owen traced his hand along the walls, pausing at each intersection to touch the Espion signs giving directions. These were ancient catacombs, showing centuries of use. The air smelled musty, and the wind blowing through arrow slits made little ghostly sounds that had once filled him with fear.

  When he reached Evie’s quarters, he tripped the latch and gave the door a little push. There was a midsized fire burning in the hearth and the sound of splashing water. Owen quickly realized he had walked into Evie’s chamber while she was bathing.

  He heard a sharp intake of breath, a gasp, and then Justine was rushing toward him, holding up a towel to block his view. “Owen! You should not be here!” the girl scolded. “Have the courtesy to knock before sneaking into my lady’s room! Out, you must go!”

  “Justine!” Evie said. “Don’t shoo him away so fast. Let me dry off. I’ll be but a moment.”

  “My lady,” Justine said in a warning voice. “This is hardly proper!”

  Owen heard the sound of water dripping on the floor rushes, and his cheeks went crimson with embarrassment. “No, I’ll leave. I’m sorry.”

  “Wait for me!” Evie said, speaking in a voice that would brook no disobedience.

  Justine stood there clenching her teeth, holding up the towel and giving him a look that was full of disapproval. Her voice dropped lower. “You should not have come, Owen. If you are caught here, there will be terrible consequences for you both.”

  “I know, Justine,” Owen said. Although he couldn’t see Evie, he could hear her drying herself with a towel quickly. His embarrassment grew in intensity, to the point where he was starting to forget why he had come.

  “I’m behind the changing screen,” Evie said. “Justine, help me. Grab my nightgown.”

  Justine’s frown was more threatening than a spearhead. “You stay over there, my lord,” she urged him, thrusting the towel into his hand. Owen stepped back until he struck the wall by the Espion portal. His forehead was covered in a sheen of sweat, and he was almost tempted to flee for his life as Justine marched back to the changing screen. There were some muttered whispers from the other side, but not even his sharp hearing could make out what was said.

  A few minutes later, Elysabeth Victoria Mortimer appeared from around the changing screen, finishing the final buttons of her nightdress. Her dark hair was damp from the water, and she was vigorously rubbing it with a small towel to dry it faster. She looked so pretty and intense, and the firelight revealed a little flush on her cheeks.

  “Well, Owen Kiskaddon,” she whispered playfully, “if you’ve come to suggest we jump into the cistern tonight, you’re too late, I’m already wet.”

  Justine gave her mistress a scolding look, but Owen barely noticed—he was too transfixed by Evie. As he watched the firelight dance across her gown, his embarrassment began melting away, replaced by more interesting emotions.

  “Don’t be so shy, Owen,” Evie urged. “You’ve seen me like this before, in Dundrennan. Why did you come tonight? We both know it’s dangerous to be meeting like this.”

  His tongue was thick in his mouth, and he felt a bit muddled, seeing her that way. She flung the hair towel to Justine, who caught it and muttered something under her breath.

  “I had to see how you were doing,” Owen said awkwardly. “I’ve been miserable all day.”

  Evie shook her head. “I haven’t. And you shouldn’t be either.”

  He stared at her in disbelief. “But the king said—”

  “Toss what he said, Owen.” She walked up to him and reached for his hands. The smell of scented soap still clung to her. Her fingers were wrinkled from the bathwater, but the rest of the skin on her hands felt warm and soft. “You know how Severn is. We both know he’s fond of testing his subjects’ loyalty. That’s exactly what I believe he’s doing. He’s testing our loyalty. Are we more loyal to him or to each other?”

  Owen couldn’t help but frown. Holding her hands made his stomach flip around. He had the unbidden, though certainly not unfamiliar, urge to lean down and kiss her mouth, but he didn’t dare. She had been a part of his life for years now, and they had grown so close that the thought of her being another man’s wife was unthinkable and unbearable. All those hours they had spent kneeling across from each other, knees touching, while he built with his tiles, all the hikes they had taken into the mountains of North Cumbria, trudging through snow. Always it had felt like they were making a promise to each other—a promise that they would be together forever.

  “He may be serious,” Owen said huskily, gazing into her eyes, which were now a calm shade of blue mixed with green.

  Though he could see the worry in her eyes, she controlled it with a firmness of spirit. “I trust my grandfather,” she said softly, confidently. “He has served the king for many years. When he finds out, he’ll speak for us. We both know that he wants us to be together.” She reached up and smoothed some of his hair by his ear. “As provoking as this situation may be, it does please me that you’re upset by it. A little, anyway.”

  “A little?” Owen scoffed. “I can’t imagine being more anxious if I were being tied up in a boat about to go into the river.”

  She gave him a pretty smile. “That’s sweet, Owen. I suppose I’m more nervous than I’m letting on. But we’ve faced worse dangers in the past. He’s trying our hearts. I believe that if we stay loyal to him, the king will reward us. I believe that.” She squeezed his hands again.

  Owen sighed, feeling more settled by her assurance. He wanted to believe that too. “There is something else I wanted to tell you. Something else that I learned.”

  Her eyes widened with eagerness. “Come sit down.” She brought him over to a small couch and sat him down. For an instant, he thought she would come down on his lap, but she sat next to him, so close he could feel the warmth coming from her. Their hands were entwined.
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br />   Justine started pacing, casting furtive looks at the door and chafing her hands. She had always been an innocuous presence. But with her mistress now committed to another man—a king, no less—she clearly recognized the impropriety of their situation.

  “What did the king tell you after I was gone?” In the firelight, her eyes had shifted to gray, reminding him of this magic that was only Evie’s.

  He explained quickly, telling her about the King’s Poisoner, how she would pose as one of Evie’s ladies-in-waiting, and what her role would be should the pretender prove to be false. He did not tell her about meeting the girl in the tower earlier and being thrown onto the ground by her. His pride demanded he keep that part to himself, though he felt a little nagging impression that he should tell her.

  Evie’s face darkened at the words. She looked down at their hands, considering it. “I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised the king is planning to use the diplomacy of poison.” She pursed her lips. “But he should have told me he was doing this.” She looked into his eyes. “I’m glad you trusted me with it, Owen. So her name is Etayne. Is she as pretty as Ankarette?”