by Jeff Wheeler
Now that Owen was reaching the age of his manhood, he had learned that the world always felt like a dangerous, threatening place. A place where trust and loyalty were as rare as gems and even more valuable. Owen’s loyalty to the king had resulted in his position as a duke of the realm. But trust was as fragile as eggshells. The king didn’t know that Owen had conspired with Ankarette, and even Mancini, to dupe him. Their relationship of trust was based on that long-ago deceit. What if Etayne revealed the truth to the king to further her own ambitions?
And it was Owen’s intention, even now, to use his Fountain-blessed abilities to thwart the king’s plans for Evie. The king only believed that Owen had visions. He did not know about his true abilities.
“There she is,” Clark said, huffing as they descended the stairs carved into the cliff walls. “There is your ship.”
Owen’s stomach prickled with excitement. He was going to make the most of this journey. He was going to make sure Elysabeth Victoria Mortimer did not marry anyone but himself.
Despite Mancini.
Despite the king.
Of all the kingdoms, Ceredigion and Occitania share the most similarities in regards to heritage. While other kingdoms do espouse a belief in the Fountain, many have laid aside some of the traditions and beliefs. But both Ceredigion and Occitania still execute their traitors by means of waterfalls. Both enshrine the ideal of the female in the personage of Our Lady. They carve monuments to her of stone and build fountains around them. I have read many of the local histories regarding these traditions, dating back to myths regarding the first overking of Ceredigion, King Andrew. I use the word “myth” because there is no documented evidence that King Andrew ever lived, yet every person in every kingdom believes he was a historical person, a king who left Ceredigion in a small boat and vowed to return to power when his kingdom was besieged. This is known as the prophecy of the Dreadful Deadman. The Occitanians fear King Andrew’s return. The Ceredigic people eagerly await it.
—Polidoro Urbino, Court Historian of Kingfountain
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Vassalage
Mancini slapped the timbers holding up the roof in the cabin. He wrinkled his nose and then nodded to Owen with purpose. “She’s a sturdy ship, lad, but not meant to withstand ballista fire.”
“What’s a ballista?” Owen asked, looking at the comfortable bed where Evie and Justine would be sleeping. Several chests had already been stowed in the room, and the rest of their belongings were being lowered into the hold with ropes. The creak and sway of the timbers made him grip a post to steady himself.
“An overgrown crossbow,” Mancini said. “Edonburick has two fortresses commanding the lake, each with probably twenty ballistae. They are burdensome to load, but give deadly fire. Fortunately, they have a weakness: the string used to load them. My Espion in Edonburick has been assigned to infiltrate those fortresses and nick the ballistae strings. Imagine loading one of those when the string snaps.” He shrugged. “It will only matter if you need to make a quick escape. I’m expecting,” he added seriously, “that the negotiations will be successful.”
Not if I can help it, Owen thought darkly, but he nodded in agreement.
Mancini folded his arms, looking annoyed. “You don’t seem to accept the current state of affairs yet. At least you’re not still sulking.”
Owen could tell he was probing for weakness, and he didn’t want to give himself away with an impulsive response. “If you’re expecting me to be happy about it already, Mancini, then you’ve misjudged how I feel about the girl.”
Mancini shook his head. “No, I’m not expecting you to be happy. Marriage isn’t about happiness. It’s about politics. Name me one happy marriage between nobles that didn’t end in disaster. Marriage is power. It either increases, or it withers.”
Owen pursed his lips, thinking on that for a moment. “By your same argument, Mancini, maybe it’s because most marriages are political that they fare so badly. If you poison the well water, everyone who drinks from it gets sick.”
The head of the Espion gave Owen an exasperated look. “Remind me next time that arguing with you is tantamount to playing Wizr. I always lose.”
“If you need the reminder,” Owen said with a mocking smile.
“Your quarters are over here,” the spy continued, escorting Owen to the room next to Evie’s. “A knight should be guarding his lady. You and Clark will take turns walking this corridor while she is in the chamber. Take shifts sleeping. At night, Etayne will watch from inside the girls’ room, so don’t get any romantic ideas. The poisoner’s ability with the Atabyrion language is such that she can pass for a native quite deceptively, if needed, through one of her many disguises, and she’s also been studying the Espion maps. She’ll help you locate and apprehend the pretender.”
Owen nodded, rubbing his lip with his finger. “So you believe he truly is a pretender, Mancini?”
The spy shrugged with cynicism. “It’s highly suspicious that this young man should suddenly appear in the major courts of the continent. A man grown, instead of a boy. I’ve heard many say he looks like Eredur, but let’s be honest. Eredur wasn’t as faithful to his queen as Severn is to the mere memory of his.” He wiggled his fingers together playfully. “I’m still trying to find a suitable wife for him. It’s been ten years. Perhaps that is a lucky number after all.”
Through the doorway, Owen saw Etayne walking down the aisle toward them, her skirts swishing as she moved. She was dressed as a lady-in-waiting, her gown showing her station to be lower than Evie’s. Her wig was brown now, like chestnuts. The necklaces and jewels she had appropriated from Ankarette were gone, replaced by simpler fare. But there was no hiding her beauty.
“Is all well here?” she asked.
“Owen and I were just talking about you,” Mancini said enigmatically.
She dimpled but said nothing in reply.
“Look at you,” Mancini said, reaching out and touching her chin. He lifted it and angled her head to one side and then another, as if she were an animal being inspected. Owen saw her eyes glitter with disdain, but she did not resist him. “You are one of my finest accomplishments,” he whispered in a low voice. “You will be one of the best poisoners in any kingdom. Even better than your predecessor. I’ve spared no expense in her training,” he added as an aside to Owen. Then, fixing his gaze with hers, he continued, “And you look almost as innocent as the earl’s daughter. Almost.” He patted her cheek, his gaze openly admiring his handiwork. He shivered. “Do us proud, girl. The pretender must perish.”
“If he’s lying,” Etayne reminded him, giving Owen a quick look. “If he’s only pretending to be a prince.”
Mancini smiled sardonically. “You and Owen are too alike. He is an imposter. I have no doubt of that. You could pass yourself off as an earl’s daughter. Or a shepherdess. I’ve trained you to be anyone. This Urbick fellow could be anyone too—even a trained poisoner like you are. Be on your guard.”
“I always am,” she replied deferentially, but Owen could see shades of contempt in her eyes. Mancini thought this girl was tame, but she had a mind of her own.
A loud voice rang out from the deck. It was the captain calling attention to the arrival of Elysabeth Victoria Mortimer, the earl’s daughter.
“Our lady has arrived,” Mancini said. “I’d best start back for the palace.” He turned back to Owen again. “Evie is in charge of the negotiations. But you are in charge of defending her and our forces. The king trusts you, lad. If you need to start a war with Atabyrion, you have the authority to do so. Severn wants this to be a display of his power, and he’s authorized the girl to make quite a nuisance of herself. Make sure it is memorable enough for word to spread to the other courts.”
“I will,” Owen said, looking deep into Mancini’s eyes. He had hoped the man would confide in him without being bidden, perhaps as a nod to the fact that he’d sabotaged Owen’s life. But he had said nothing about Ankarette’s letter, and Owen did not want to reve
al that he knew about it. Not yet.
Mancini patted Etayne’s cheek one more time and then sauntered back down the aisle so he could leave by the gangway. Owen watched him for a moment before turning his gaze back to Etayne. Her eyes were raw with disgust and contempt as she stared after the Espion.
“You don’t like him very much,” Owen said softly.
She gave him her haughty look again. It slipped on like a mask. “Would you like to be treated as if you were only a weapon, not a person?” Then she smoothed her gown, and a pretty smile tipped up the corners of her mouth. “I have to prove myself on this mission, my lord. I cannot fail. At anything, it seems,” she added in a deceptively cheery tone. Her palm stroked her stomach. “I will enjoy working with you, I think. We are not so very different in age. You look a little older than twelve.” She winked at him to let him know she was teasing.
He didn’t believe her banter for a moment. Was she a dangerous serpent to be avoided and feared? Or was she someone who could be trusted? She had kept their encounter in the tower secret. He thought he could see glimpses of her beneath the mask, but he would need to know more about her before he decided if he could trust her.
There was a commotion on deck as Evie made her way to the staterooms, the sailors cheering in welcome. She walked confidently, waving back at them, and her beautiful gown shimmered in the sunlight as the light caught the gems and silver thread.
Etayne was watching him watch her, a sly smile on her mouth. He knew it, but he still had a hard time taking his eyes off the girl who had carved a part of his heart away from him.
The poisoner put a hand on Owen’s shoulder, and when she spoke, her voice was just a whisper. “I think it’s harsh what they’re doing to you both. For what it’s worth.” She patted his shoulder and then slipped into Evie’s room quietly, letting Owen be the one to greet her first.
Owen had never been to sea before. He had worried, based on the experiences of others, that he would be greensick like poor Justine, who spent nearly all her time aboard crouched over a bucket. She looked a miserable creature, and even had vomit in her hair. Evie was immune to the effects; she walked from one end of the ship to the other, asking questions and learning about the nautical terms, and basically charming the captain and his entire crew with her intense interest and curiosity. Owen walked in her shadow, a hand on his sword, and felt the salty breeze in his hair. He could almost feel the ocean beneath his boots, and the rhythmic sway was as gentle to him as a mother’s lullaby.
They followed the coast of Ceredigion up to East Stowe before plunging into the open sea separating the two kingdoms, which were adjacent to each other. Sailors were always nervous being in open waters, but it was not a lengthy voyage. Land was sighted on schedule, and the weather, according to the captain, had been surprisingly calm compared to the previous fortnight. Upon reaching the coast of Atabyrion, they took the eastern approach to reach Edonburick on the other side of the island. There would be no hiding the fleet, and Owen knew word of their imminent arrival would precede them to Iago Llewellyn’s court. The navigator was from the merchant fleet and knew the way to distinguish the fjords and rocks and how to maneuver the ship safely through them.
After nightfall, Owen found himself standing at the prow of the ship with Evie. She leaned over the railing, her hair whipping around as the wind caught it. She was beaming, her face soft as they faced the purple sky, the sun setting far behind them. Many in the crew had gathered to the stern to watch the sunset, as was their ritual, but Evie had wanted to face forward, toward their destination.
“Where is Justine?” Owen asked, joining her at the rail and planting his elbows next to her.
“In the cabin,” Evie said, cocking her head at Owen. She shivered with delight, her eyes glowing. “I’ve never been at sea before. I could get used to this. I would love to visit each of the kingdoms and learn about them firsthand. Books are lovely, of course, but seeing Atabyrion fills me with anticipation. Look at those mountains! They are hauntingly beautiful.”
“You wish to stay here then?” Owen asked a bit too snidely.
She gave him an annoyed look. “You don’t understand. I love traveling and visiting new places. I don’t want to come here to stay. I want to see Occitania, Genevar, and Pisan too. I want to see all the places I’ve only read about.” She folded her arms beneath her breasts and leaned forward against the rail, breathing it all in. He was tempted, for just a moment, to grab her waist and startle her.
He looked around, saw that no one was looking their way, and succumbed to it.
She gasped with surprise and shock and then turned and hit him on the arm. “That wasn’t kind!” she said. “I thought I was falling!”
Owen was trying to control his laughter, which only made it worse, and she hit him again. “Stop it. You’re such a boy. We’re not eight anymore, you know. What if I had fallen in?”
He had to wipe the tears out of his eyes. “You always said you fancied to know what it would be like falling off a waterfall. It isn’t even that far down.”
“You are contemptible,” she chided, but there was her smile again, a warm knowing smile that went straight through his heart like a ballista bolt. She leaned back against the railing, her hands behind her, her head cocked to one side. The sun had set and darkness was settling in all around them, lowering like a bank of clouds preceding a storm.
Owen leaned his elbows against the rail again, inhaling the salty smell of the air.
“Why won’t you kiss me, Owen Kiskaddon?” Evie asked in a small voice, only loud enough for him to hear her. It was almost a whisper. “I’ve tried to make it obvious enough, but you are either being stubborn or you don’t want to.”
He felt a blush rise to his cheeks and his stomach flipped around like a fish on the deck.
“You don’t know how much I want to,” he said, unable to stop the words from spilling out.
“That’s comforting,” she said dryly. “At least it’s not because you don’t want to. Why haven’t you then?”
“Why are we talking about this?” he asked her.
“Because I’m a girl, and girls like to talk about kissing,” she said with a mischievous smile. “I’ve wanted you to kiss me for years and you never have. I’ve almost kissed you first a thousand times, but I always wanted you to be the one to start it. Justine is vomiting in a bucket in my room. The crew is watching the sunset over there. And your thought was to startle me by pretending to push me overboard.” She sighed with exasperation. “Sometimes I can’t figure out how your mind even works.”
Owen could hardly make sense of his churning emotions. They were a mix of delight, mortification, embarrassment, eagerness, wariness, and giddiness.
He hung his head and chuckled. She had the ability to talk about the most ridiculous things with candor. She was so open, so assured of herself. He envied her that. He was constantly riddled with worries and doubts.
“Sometimes I can’t figure it out myself,” he said honestly. “It was a perfect moment and I ruined it.”
“Yes . . . you did.” She reached over and touched his arm. When he looked up at her face, he saw tenderness there. A feeling of protectiveness came over him.
She clucked her tongue in regret. “Well, here comes the captain. Tomorrow we’ll be in Atabyrion, in front of strangers who abide by savage customs. People there eat with their hands and throw cups of wine and scream at each other during meals.” She wrinkled her nose. “They also start fights rather rashly. As one of my knights, I’m depending on you to defend my honor.” She gave him an arch look.
Owen rose and bowed to her formally. “I will defend it with my life, my lady.”
She pursed her lips at his gallant comment and then gave him a dismissing nod as the captain approached.
Later, after midnight, Owen was pacing the corridor outside her room, rebuking himself for having missed the perfect opportunity to kiss her. His conflicting emotions stymied him. He wanted to show her how he felt,
to pledge his heart to her in a meaningful way. But to do so would feel disloyal to the king. This was a test, he tried to reassure himself. It was only a test. Part of him believed it, but a nagging voice in his head insisted the intended alliance with Atabyrion was real. If so, kissing her now would make things worse for them in the future. It could even damage their friendship.
He had promised Clark he would awaken him after midnight, but Owen did not know if he would even be able to sleep.
A sliver of light bloomed from her doorway, and he noted it immediately, his nerves taut and on edge. Swinging his head around quickly, he saw Etayne framed in the glow. She gestured for him to approach, and he hurried over to her.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” he whispered.
Etayne shook her head. “Nothing’s wrong,” she whispered. “I gave Justine a sleeping potion for her seasickness. A strong one. She won’t awaken until morning.” Her eyes were full of mischief. “Shall we trade places?”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Edonburick
Owen stared at Etayne, the conflict within him growing fiercer. The thought of being alone with Evie, truly alone with her, kindled a feeling inside him akin to the roar of a waterfall. But at the same time, he felt distrustful of the Espion’s intentions.
“What do you mean?” Owen asked, wrinkling his brow.
“I’ll guard the door. You can be in here.”
One of the strategies in Wizr was to move a piece for an easy kill. To an opponent, it would look like an error, but it was a deliberate move intended to provoke an action that would later be regretted. As Owen stood there in the dark corridor, he felt he would be making a crucial mistake if he accepted Etayne’s offer. Perhaps she was testing him.
He shook his head. “Thank you, but no. I have a duty to perform. And so do you.”
Etayne looked a little startled. She stared at him for a long moment and then gave him a nod of respect. “Not one young man in twenty would have said no. You are unique.” She came out into the hall, shutting the door quietly behind her. With the absence of light, shadows engulfed them.
