The Thief's Daughter

by Jeff Wheeler

  Etayne looked at him shrewdly. “Thankfully Fountain magic doesn’t work on you, Owen, or you might have been tempted to kill the king.”

  Owen chuckled softly. “So you almost had him in Kingfountain when the riot started. He may have removed the chest from the sanctuary and taken it here to St. Penryn.”

  “Or so you believe,” Etayne prompted. “What about Marshal Roux?”

  “It can’t be both of them, can it? My suspicion is that Tyrell did it and he’s trying to get the chest to Eyric. It will make a difference somehow. It’s important in some way I don’t understand.”

  “Why don’t you just go into the sanctuary and take it back now?” Etayne asked.

  Owen shook his head. “Because I’m going to figure this out, Etayne. I’m tired of being in the dark about our enemies and their plans. If I pretend to be on their side, they may expose the entire plot to me.”

  The sound of boots came rushing up to the tent and Farnes burst in, flushed. “My lord!”

  “What is it?” Owen snapped.

  “Eyric’s ship just docked at the sanctuary! Four fishing vessels. He’s at the sanctuary right now! You were right!”

  Owen felt a throb of hope in his breast. “Get word to Ashby,” Owen said. “Tell him I’m coming straightaway.”

  Owen carried a torch to light their way as they walked down the main road to the sanctuary of St. Penryn. There were Espion hidden all along the way, as well as in the area surrounding the sanctuary, and they were the ones who had alerted Farnes of Eyric’s landing. Owen missed Clark, but he had been assigned to protect Evie and get her and Justine safely back to the North. Owen did not think he minded the assignment, for it would bring him close to the woman he cared about.

  An Espion by the name of Victor waited in the gloom, wearing beggar rags and shaking a cup. Owen paused and rifled through a coin pouch for some money to toss in.

  “How many?” Owen whispered. Etayne wore a thick silver mantle covering her dress and hair. She faced the sanctuary so he could only see her profile. She looked like an apparition in the mist.

  “One hundred men, if that,” the Espion wheezed, jiggling the cup as the coins clinked into it. “They raised a battle standard from the spire of the sanctuary. The Sun and Rose. Men are coming in from all quarters, drawn to it. He has a boat ready to flee, though, and soldiers are guarding it with drawn swords. Oh, and his lady wife is with him.”

  “Kathryn?” Owen asked in surprise. “What about the Earl of Huntley?”

  The shabby Espion shrugged. “No sign of the earl.”

  “Thank you,” Owen said, then tugged at Etayne’s elbow and started toward the sanctuary. He felt the magic of the Fountain begin to trickle in around her.

  “Not yet,” he cautioned. “And stay close. If Tyrell’s there, I want him to think I’m the one who’s causing it. They all know I’m Fountain-blessed.”

  The pathway wound its way up to some steps, which they mounted as they rose toward the grounds. A stone fence surrounded the sanctuary, while a wrought-iron gate speckled with flakes of rust commanded the entrance. They entered the gate and Owen began to summon his magic as the sound of their footfalls echoed on the pavement.

  There were others carrying torches on the grounds, and the wind and sea fog blew in sharp gusts, threatening to tear away Etayne’s hood. She gripped Owen’s arm with one hand and used her other to keep the cowl in place.

  The sexton awaited them at the main doors.

  “Lord Kiskaddon, Lady Elyse,” he greeted warmly, but there was a nervous edge to his voice. “They are expecting you both. Follow me to the fountain.”

  As they cleared the threshold, Etayne brought down her hood. Owen could feel the magic flowing from her, as innocuous as the breeze. She looked exactly like Lady Elyse. She was wearing one of her gowns, and her hair was in the fashion favored by the king’s niece. Owen made himself appear agitated and nervous, and he continued to glance back the way they had come, as if suspecting treachery. Etayne’s disguise was perfect.

  There was a circle of light near the fountain’s edge, and the lapping of the water helped prevent noise from carrying. Owen recognized Eyric immediately, only now he wore gilded armor and a sword belted to his waist. The pommel gleamed and the polished armor fit him well. Standing next to him was Lady Kathryn, holding on to his arm. She looked beautiful, but also very wary and nervous, and her eyes scrutinized them as they made their approach.

  There were several men standing with them, including the deconeus and warriors from Atabyrion with their braided locks and rugged looks. They stared at Owen with open dislike as he approached. Standing just behind the deconeus was another man, wearing the robes of a sexton. He had a noticeable gap in his front teeth. He was tall, with reddish brown hair and freckled skin. The robes could not hide his muscled gait. He looked like he was from Legault, and Owen could sense the power of the Fountain flowing from him. The man stared at Owen and Etayne shrewdly, a small frown quirking his mouth down as they approached.

  A decorative table had been brought to the edge of the fountain, and Owen saw the chest on the table, the lid open and cast aside. His heart pounded with curiosity. They were all gathered around the box, but they’d turned as Owen and Etayne made their approach.

  “Sister!” Eyric breathed with pure delight. Kathryn released his arm, and Eyric rushed forward, embracing Etayne with all the fervor of a man who had not seen his sister in a long, long while. Etayne fell effortlessly into the role of rejoicing sibling, and even shed some convincing tears as she hugged her long-lost “brother.” Owen almost felt guilty for the deception, but he knew it would not work with the poisoner Tyrell.

  Owen came forward and took Lady Kathryn’s hand. He bowed graciously. “I beg your pardon, Lady Kathryn, for shattering the window in your manor before I left. I hope you can forgive me.”

  She gave him an intense look, not showing any emotion other than nervousness. “I do not consider it inappropriate given the circumstances. You had deceived us, Lord Kiskaddon. I trust you have not come to deceive us again.”

  Her words stung Owen’s heart, especially considering how vulnerable she appeared at that moment.

  Eyric swept up Etayne and twirled her around. “My dear, dear sister!” he crooned, shaking his head. “I would recognize you even if fifty years had passed. This is she, my love,” he said, looking back at Kathryn. “I would have known her anywhere.”

  Lady Kathryn’s mouth turned down. “If you say so, my lord husband.” Her voice was skeptical.

  “What brings you to St. Penryn?” Eyric demanded almost gleefully as he took Etayne’s hands. “We weren’t expecting you here. It’s a welcome surprise, to be sure!”

  Owen patted Kathryn’s hand and then met Tyrell’s gaze. The poisoner looked quite uncomfortable, almost writhing in his disquiet. Owen finally allowed himself to look into the open chest.

  It was a Wizr set, but it was far from ordinary. Owen could feel the presence of the Fountain’s magic just from looking at it.

  The board was small, roughly the span of both of Owen’s hands from end to end with his fingers spread apart. The board was made out of grayish-brown stone, and while the darker squares were marble, the lighter squares were some other polished stone. The figurines of the set were the typical pieces, except they were each hand-sculpted into small, squat depictions. The king, for example, sat on a throne—like in Owen’s set—only each piece was carved with a face and an expression. One of the kings was leaning forward, resting his chin on his fist. The pieces were each highly detailed and looked to be centuries old, showing some wear and cracks. The board was already assembled, but it seemed to be in the midst of a game. Many discarded pieces were settled in the little slots around the sides of the board.

  Tyrell’s face twisted with anger as he watched Owen regarding the pieces. “My lord,” he said with alarm. “You’ll have time to visit with your sister. You must make your move. Play the game.”

  Owen felt somet
hing twist inside his stomach.

  Eyric was enraptured by Etayne, gazing at her with adoring eyes, completely unaware of the tension around him. He kissed her knuckles and laughed softly. “Will Chatriyon still support me, Sister?” he pleaded. “When I heard you had married, I began to wonder if he wanted the throne of Ceredigion for himself. Lord Owen said as much to me earlier.”

  “The game, my lord,” Tyrell said with a cough.

  Eyric waved him down. “I haven’t seen my sister in over a decade, Tyrell. A moment.”

  Owen suppressed a smirk, watching with pride as Etayne masterfully mimicked Elyse. Even her voice was identical.

  “My lord husband,” Kathryn said in a pleading tone, looking more and more concerned.

  Her words broke the spell. Eyric turned to look at his wife, then nodded obediently. He returned to the table and gazed down at the set. Owen could not determine any order from the way the pieces were positioned on the board, but he could tell by looking at them that both sides were evenly matched and in defending postures. He quickly memorized the pieces on the board, trying to parse any patterns from the previous matches he had played.

  “Your move,” Tyrell repeated with agitation.

  “But I don’t know this game very well,” Eyric said with unease, staring down at the board. His hand hovered over the pieces.

  “What is this game?” Owen asked, standing shoulder to shoulder with Eyric as he gazed down at the box.

  “You’ll see,” said Tyrell with venom. “My lord, it doesn’t really matter what piece you choose. We just need to see if you can move the pieces.”

  Owen felt a prickle from the Fountain in his mind.

  He cannot. But his wife can. In her womb is the Dreadful Deadman. Protect the heir.

  Owen blinked with surprise and noticed for the first time that Kathryn’s hand was gently pressing her belly.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Loyalty

  Etayne cast Owen a nervous look. He didn’t know if she had heard the Fountain’s voice or not. He was reeling from the revelation that the Dreadful Deadman was an unborn child, the son of Eyric Argentine. And he felt the imminent burden that would fall on his shoulders. He would need to protect this babe as Ankarette had protected him.

  Reaching his hand toward the chest, Eyric tried to move one of the pieces of the Wizr set. But the piece resisted stubbornly, and Eyric’s face crinkled with concern as he applied more pressure.

  “It’s not moving,” Eyric said worriedly.

  The poisoner Tyrell frowned, seeing the failure as evidence of something. “It’s because you are not recognized as the king,” he said. “You have claimed your uncle’s throne, but you have not won it yet. Once you wear the hollow crown, you will be able to move the pieces, my lord. Not until then.” Tyrell swiftly took the lid and shut it over the Wizr set.

  Lady Kathryn took her husband’s arm, giving him a worried look. “So it is true. You must earn the right to rule through conquest. My husband, I fear for you.”

  He gave her a tender look and then smoothed a strand of hair from her brow. “The Fountain will aid me, Kate. Look at all the allies it has already brought.” He glanced back at Elyse and Owen, on whom his gaze rested. “Have you come to join me now?” he asked. “You spurned my offer before. I would welcome your support most ardently, my lord duke. Did my sister persuade you?”

  Owen knew he had to control his expression. It was difficult when so much was happening around him. He tried to sound sullen. “The king changed when Lady Elyse forsook him. He’s a different man now. He violated the sanctuary of Our Lady, and the people nearly threw him into the river.” Owen risked a glance at Tyrell, trying to judge his reaction.

  “I have persuaded Lord Owen,” Etayne said, her voice and tone mimicking Elyse’s perfectly, “to join our cause. I knew you would not trust his offer of assistance without assurance. Welcome home, my brother. The crown is rightfully yours.”

  Eyric’s lip trembled with emotion. “I would take back what is ours, Sister. Uncle Severn besmirched our name, our family, and our inheritance. He sent the Espion to kill my brother and me, and Lord Bletchley ordered Tyrell, who is Fountain-blessed, to do the deed. But the Fountain forbade him from killing me. Instead, he smuggled me to Brugia. It is time to remove that monster from the throne before his madness infects the entire kingdom. He ought never to have worn the crown.”

  Etayne stroked Owen’s arm. “Only Lord Owen has been able to quell his rages. I could not, in good conscience, continue to stand by him as he changed. Brother, I must return to my husband in Occitania.”

  “Before you leave, my lady,” Tyrell said, his voice full of warning and disbelief. “I suggest, my prince, that you ask your sister a question. Something only you and she would know.”

  “Tyrell, it is my sister,” Eyric said with a snort. “I recognize her as if we’d never parted.”

  Owen knew Tyrell sensed Fountain magic, but he probably could not determine whom it was coming from.

  “I know Princess Elyse as well,” Owen said. “I was raised at the court of Kingfountain. Believe me, Master Tyrell, I’d know if she was an imposter.”

  “I’m sure you would,” Tyrell said acidly, his eyes churning with rage. Owen felt the Fountain boiling inside of him.

  Lady Kathryn’s eyes wrinkled in concern, and Eyric patted her hand. “There is no need to fret, my love. The danger is real, but I believe the people will rally to me now that Severn has violated sanctuary. They will flock to me in droves, like sheep needing a patient shepherd. You are my queen.”

  Owen wanted to get his hands on the chest. It was sitting on the table, teasing him with its vulnerability. It was a riddle and a mystery, and he wanted to solve it. But he had no doubt that Tyrell would never allow it.

  Kathryn’s eyes were doubtful. “My husband, your uncle is a cunning and shrewd man. He sent Lord Owen to deceive us once. Why would he not do so again? I feel”—she paused, her hand tightening on her stomach—“we can trust him, but I worry what will happen if you are caught. I could not bear to lose you.” Her look was so tender and loving that it made Owen regret what he was about to do.

  “If I am caught,” Eyric said, dropping his voice lower. “We already discussed what I would do. What I would say. Have courage, dear one. It is time to cast the die. Iago Llewellyn may rid us of this monster once and for all. We must march against him now, while the tide is in our favor. We won’t get another chance.”

  It was true.

  Eyric turned to Owen. “Where is my uncle’s army?”

  “He’s in the North.”

  Eyric nodded firmly. “That was always his greatest bastion of support. But I was once the Duke of Yuork. The people there will forsake him as everyone else has done. He was never meant to rule Ceredigion. It is time we rectified that mischance.”

  “Hold me,” Kathryn murmured worriedly, coming into her husband’s embrace. The couple lingered that way, and Owen’s heart wrenched inside his chest. He had to look away, and his gaze found Tyrell’s. The man’s face was twisted in rage. It was easy to guess at the cause: His efforts to stir up contention had failed because Owen’s magic deflected the magic of others. He was impotent in Owen’s presence. And he knew it.

  “Come, my lord,” Tyrell insisted, almost whining. “Let’s summon your soldiers. We have two hundred men so far and more will come every day. The sooner we march, the sooner the people will rally to the Sun and Rose.”

  “I perfectly agree,” Owen said, stepping forward. “I have a pavilion a short distance. Why don’t you and Lady Kathryn join us for a meal?”

  Eyric shook his head. “My lady will not leave sanctuary until I return to bring her to the coronation. The Fountain will look after you in my absence.” He tipped up her chin and gave her a lingering kiss. Lady Kathryn blinked back tears.

  “I will return for you, my love. I swear it.” He turned to Owen and Etayne. “Let’s gather at your camp then. I’d like to speak to your men. I hope
to help them see the rightful cause they undertake.”

  “My lord, I don’t think that’s wise,” Tyrell said, shaking his head.

  “Come, Tyrell. I’ve lurked in shadows for long enough. It is time to face the light.” He gave Kathryn one last look before shifting his attention to the deconeus. “Your Grace, I leave my most precious jewels in your hands. Guard them well.”

  “I will, Your Majesty,” the deconeus said with a plump smile.

  Lady Kathryn gave Owen an imploring look. He was about to turn away, unable to bear her gaze any longer, but she caught his sleeve.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. She blinked quickly. “I know you risk a great deal, Lord Owen, and I will not forget your kindness. The daughter of the Earl of Huntley is grateful. My father will reward you handsomely.”

  Owen’s mouth was dry. “Thank you, Lady Kathryn. But I do not do this for the reward.” He looked into her eyes, knowing the memory of the trust he saw there would haunt him the rest of his life. It did not matter; he had a duty to perform. The Fountain had told him to protect Eyric’s son. It had not told him to defend the father. But despite that, it was still an agonizing conflict.

  Tyrell hefted the chest under his arm and they started to walk together out of the sanctuary. Owen sensed he had a dagger concealed behind the chest. But the man was not wearing armor, so he was quite vulnerable to blades himself. The night was cold and misty. Men came quickly with torches, and a rabble of Atabyrion warriors drew in around them as protection. Some cheered Eyric’s name and others hoisted banners with the Sun and Rose. Eyric raised a fist and smiled. He was a handsome man and he looked like a true prince.

  The call of a night bird came in the distance.

  As they reached the gates, Tyrell cast furtive glances into the gloom, looking weary and sick with nerves. “My lord, where are your other guards? Should we not fetch them?”

  “It’s only a meal, Tyrell,” Eyric said with a grunt. “I’ll be staying with my lady at the sanctuary tonight. Once the soldiers hear my speech, the word will spread faster. Trust me, old friend.”