by Jeff Wheeler
“If any evidence arises that the rumors are true,” Queen Elyse said in a warning tone, “it would be an affront to our sovereignty and would yield dangerous consequences.”
“Naturally,” Lord Hux replied with a pleasant and genial smile.
After a few more exchanges, Lord Hux related his message, which was simply that King Lewis of Occitania offered any assistance should the King or Queen of Ceredigion require it. That there should be no concern whatsoever about Occitania’s allegiance with Eredur.
After a time, the conversation ended and the queen suggested the herald spend the night at the palace before returning promptly to his master with her forthcoming response. He bowed graciously, giving her a languid, peaceful smile. Ankarette fumed silently as the hall was once more livened with talk. The man had revealed absolutely nothing about himself or his true aim.
Several nobles tried to engage Lord Hux in conversation, but he dismissed himself quickly, pleading the need for some refreshment. And then he was walking toward her, deliberately and directly. Her pulse began to quicken. She was standing by one of the food tables, and he approached it, gazing at the variety of cheeses and fruit gathered on the trays. She maneuvered herself so that the table was between them.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you again, my dear,” he said under his breath, his hand pausing and changing direction many times as he chose what he wanted.
“Welcome to Kingfountain,” she answered curtly.
“I find the reception a little cool,” he answered, then popped a grape into his mouth.
“What else did you expect?” she replied with a smile.
He turned and faced her, and a smile lit his face. Not his careless, friend of all humanity smile, but a cunning, mischievous one. “Everything, my dear. Everything. You forget how much we Occitanians love the game Wizr. I am always planning my next moves well in advance. I hope you are as well. The offer is still open to join my king.”
She controlled her surprise and annoyance enough to give him a noncommittal shrug. “Thank you, but no.”
“You might change your mind,” he said in an offhanded manner. His gaze met hers. “Once Dunsdworth is king. Imagine taking orders from him.” He snorted disdainfully.
Ankarette felt her insides crawling with worms, but she kept her face neutral. “I find it an unlikely possibility.”
Lord Hux popped another grape down his gullet. “Not as good as what we grow on the vines in the valley of Orle. Well, my work is done. I’ll return to Pree with the tide and report to my master that it all went perfectly.”
She narrowed her gaze at him.
“Really, my dear. You are so innocent. You have so much to learn. I will be your mentor in the subtle art of deception.” He scratched the corner of his mouth with a well-trimmed nail. “Dunsdworth and Isybelle were married in Callait. Your own Espion put him on board the duke’s ship ere he sailed. My purpose in coming to Kingfountain was only to keep you distracted. By focusing on my arrival as a threat, you blinded yourself to the truth. Warrewik is returning with the garrison of Callait, the largest army in Ceredigion. His forces from Dundrennan are on the march even now. If Eredur thinks Kiskaddon’s force will be sufficient to defeat Warrewik’s, well then, he is less savvy than he pretends to be.
“Eredur will fight. And he will lose. Threat. Mate. Farewell, my dear. The invitation to you still stands as you watch the board change hands. The King of Occitania would much prefer to see Dunsdworth sitting there.” He wagged his little finger toward the throne. “Oh, and by the way—there are more ciphers than the formian one. You delivered my little plan to the duke with the letter you brought here for me ages ago. This is how it’s done, my dear. Learn the lesson well.”
Ankarette’s heart pounded as fast as her steed’s hooves. She and Lord Hastings rode through the countryside at reckless speed. They changed mounts at every town they passed, going so fast at times she thought they were flying. Ankarette had not even changed her gown or donned a cloak. She’d assumed Hux’s worst news was true and urged the queen to seek sanctuary at Our Lady. Then she and Hastings had rushed away to try to avert the impending disaster.
Her insides coiled and writhed, making her sick with dread. She worried about Sir Thomas. He had been sent to join Dunsdworth . . .
Did Warrewik suspect him of disloyalty? She had every reason to believe that he was faithful to the king, and if he had known of the duke’s plot, he would have told Eredur. Would Warrewik have him bound and thrown into the river when he returned?
She wept as they rode, tears flying from her cheeks. At the poisoner school, they had said that most poisoners did not survive the first year of service. Careless mistakes could be costly. She grieved for the king and the queen, for their daughter, for her mother at Marshaw, for Thomas. She would save them if she could. But how? What could she do?
She and Hastings had hoped to catch up to Eredur on the journey, but he was riding just as fast as they were and applying the same technique of switching out his horse. It wasn’t until just past nightfall that they caught up to him at an inn in the town of Keens. He was with his household knights and they were just beginning to enjoy the feast that had been provided for his men.
“Tell the king I need to speak to him in his room,” Ankarette said urgently to Hastings, her nerves fraying. “You keep his knights distracted. I don’t wish to be seen.”
“Aye, lass,” the chancellor said, scratching his long blond mustache.
Ankarette didn’t know which room was the king’s, so she waited in the shadows and watched as Hastings found the king and whispered in his ear. Eredur nodded curtly and then raised a quick toast before announcing he needed to use the privy to be able to drink more ale. The banter earned him some guffaws, which followed him as he walked to the stairs and conferred with the innkeeper. Ankarette watched as they mounted the stairs together. Something compelled her to wait, to study the scene before acting, and it did not take her long to realize why. One of the knights rose and started to follow them.
Ankarette pursued the knight at a distance, her heart pounding. Her thighs were a little sore from the saddle, but she was an experienced rider now. The knight walked soundlessly, Espion-style, toward the door through which the king and the innkeeper had disappeared. He paused there, and Ankarette stole up behind him, twisting her ring to expose the needle.
He must have sensed her, for he turned sharply just as she reached him. She gripped his arm and pricked him with the needle. Had he seen her face?
His eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped to the ground. The door of the king’s room swung open and the innkeeper pushed out his head.
“What’s the racket?” he scolded, and then he saw the slumped soldier and her standing there.
“It’s all right, Lamb. She’s with me.” Eredur’s voice was firm and knowing.
The innkeeper dismissed himself, trying not to trip on the body, which he regarded with wide eyes.
Ankarette closed the door and quickly told him everything that had happened and what Lord Hux had admitted to her. His complexion grew pale with fear as she spoke. He was stunned, surprised beyond measure. Eredur began to pace the well-furnished room. It was certainly the best room in the entire place, with a fancy four-post bed and clean sheets.
“I’m sorry to bring these ill tidings,” she said anxiously.
“No, no—don’t be,” he answered. He stared at the floor, horror-stricken. He bit on the edge of his finger. “You told me everything you knew. We all suspected the poisoner was sent to kill me, which was why I agreed to this plan. I knew Warrewik was determined, but this . . . this shows treachery that goes much deeper than I suspected. He intends to win.” His countenance fell. “My uncle intends to kill me.”
Ankarette longed to comfort him. But what could she say? They both knew the situation was bleak. The duke would ride fast and hard. If his soldiers from Dundrennan weren’t almost to Kingfountain, then the garrison from Callait would surely arrive soon.<
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“How did he keep this secret for so long?” Eredur wondered aloud. “Thomas knew nothing. You knew nothing. Who did he trust? Who did he tell?”
“I don’t know,” Ankarette said. “Clearly he’s been scheming with King Lewis.”
“Rather successfully, it appears!”
Ankarette’s misery was acute. “I’m sorry. I wish I could have prevented this.”
Eredur began pacing again. “I thought . . . I just thought that Warrewik would have done this more . . . honorably. There’s a tradition when rebelling against a king. You rise up in arms. You don’t use tricks or decoys, like that Robert Conyers fellow. I had hoped to build up enough power to best him on the battlefield. He’s always had the upper hand. But this . . . this is knavery. I didn’t think he would stoop to it.”
An idea began to sprout in Ankarette’s mind. “What did you say?”
Eredur looked at her in confusion. “I didn’t think he could do it this way. I know he is upset with me for marrying Elyse. But believe me, I don’t think his choice of King Lewis’s sister would have added to my happiness at all! She would have been spying for her brother the whole time. Where would her loyalty be? I have Elyse’s loyalty, completely and honestly. Warrewik’s was always in question. Especially after he—” He stopped abruptly.
“After he what?” Ankarette pressed. A secret was trying to wriggle loose.
He pursed his lips and shook his head. “I swore him an oath that I would never speak of it. I’ve honored my promise, though it’s cost me the good opinion of many.”
“Will you tell me?” Ankarette asked.
He shook his head no. “I won’t forsake my oath. Not even for you.”
She felt the Fountain magic stir inside her. It rippled and shivered and her mind began to open like a flower. There was a way out. She saw it, the smallest of chances. The most dangerous of risks. It was as if the pieces had all finally slipped together in her mind. She knew the secret. The Fountain had whispered it to her.
His gaze was intense. “What is it?” he said, touching her arm.
“I think I know a way to escape this trap,” she said with conviction.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Yield
Eredur’s eyes widened with surprise, his mouth twitching with suppressed emotion. He wanted to believe her, but his situation truly seemed hopeless. “I’m not seeing it, lass. Even if I fled this very instant, I’d never make it to a port in time. Warrewik’s spies would have me. They already have me in their sights,” he said, waving toward the door.
She stepped closer to him. “My lord, I don’t recommend that you flee. I believe I am a pretty good judge of people and things.” She paused, trying to find the best way to express the new ideas that had come into her mind. “The Duke of Warrewik is driven by his ambition for power. And yet he does not crave the kingship for himself. He knows he lacks the right. He is your mother’s brother, not your father’s . . . which means that despite all his wealth and prowess, he has no blood right to the throne.” She gazed at him keenly. “What he craves above all else is for one of his daughters to become the Queen of Ceredigion.”
Eredur’s face became stony, his eyes narrowing—but not with confusion. She had struck the nerve precisely.
“I believe that Warrewik wanted this so much that he induced Isybelle to . . . putting it delicately . . . put you in a compromising situation. Warrewik may have supposed that you would respond as an ordinary man might in such a situation, only to regret it later. I think his mind was so bent on this outcome that he did not take into consideration your character or his daughter’s infatuation with your brother.”
She stopped there, not saying anything more. In the silence of the room, they could hear the raucous voices downstairs.
Eredur’s voice, when he spoke, was thick with emotion. “No one told you this, Ankarette? Not Isybelle?”
Ankarette shook her head no.
“You are exactly right,” the king said softly, entreatingly, his voice edged with suppressed anger. “I have kept silent for several years to protect her honor. It was not her fault. I blame my uncle.”
“Which is why I respect you and Sir Thomas so much for keeping silent about it,” Ankarette said. “The clues were all there. I just didn’t see them all until tonight, until almost this very moment. It’s why your brother resents you so much.”
“Indeed,” Eredur said. “Even though I’ve told him nothing happened with her.”
“He’s still not sure he believes you. Sometimes we fear the worst in others to keep from seeing the truth about ourselves.”
“You have a gift of insight, Ankarette,” he said. “I’ve not even told Elyse the full truth because of my oath. But you are not so bound.”
Ankarette smiled, pleased. “Now hear me out, my lord. Everything Warrewik has done has been in pursuance of his aim. You’ve been stripping him of power, or at least preventing him from gaining more, because he’s proven himself to be untrustworthy. He knows it, and you know it, but the kingdom doesn’t.”
“He’s bought their loyalty,” Eredur said angrily.
“So we must use it against him. He’s expecting you to flee. He’s expecting you to fight. Do neither. Wait for him here to arrive. No matter what news he brings, tell him you wish to reconcile. I don’t think he will murder you.” She squinted and shook her head. “I don’t think he has the stomach for it. He’s afraid of you. He’s afraid to face you in open battle, but open battle is what he wants and expects because defeating you any other way would be dishonorable.
“Refuse to fight him. No matter what. Seek to resolve the impasse. Give him more power and prominence. He’ll likely ask to rule in your name. Say yes. Bide your time until Sir Thomas and I can free you. You’ll probably be sent to Dundrennan. Warrewik and Hux think they know what you will do. Surprise them. Make them react to your unexpected move.”
He let out his breath anxiously. “You’re asking me to trust my life in his hands. He could lock me in Holistern with the mad king.”
“I don’t think he will. His intention is that you fight and lose, making way for Dunsdworth to become king and Isybelle his queen. According to Hux, they’ve already married in Callait. But if you are still alive after tonight, each day will improve the odds that Warrewik will face the same troubles you have faced as king, only he lacks your authority to resolve them. Will your privy council listen to him? I think not. Will other kingdoms see our weakness and threaten us? Of course! It all comes down to judging Warrewik’s character and then deciding accordingly. I don’t believe he will murder you.”
A smirk tugged on his mouth. “He may ask you to do it.”
She blinked at him. Then she looked down at the floor. “If he does, then I will protect you by stabbing him in the heart. And your problem will be solved. I serve you, my lord. You are my king.”
She felt his hand on her shoulder, so she looked up into his eyes, silently beseeching him to listen. His gaze was full of emotion, of sympathy and tenderness.
“I will heed your advice, Ankarette. I don’t think Sir Thomas could have given me better advice. You have wisdom beyond your years. Thank you.”
“Sir Thomas has taught me a great deal,” she said, trying to deflect his praise.
“He’s a good man,” Eredur said. “I value you both.”
She sighed. “You should give him a command, my lord. When this is done. He’ll serve you faithfully.”
“I know. And I will.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Now we must deal with the body you left outside the door. Best if he is not present when Warrewik arrives.”
It was an agonizing wait. The night was dark, for it was well after midnight, and when Ankarette glanced outside the window, she saw a light rain coming down. Everything was still, a pent-up breath. Beams within the inn creaked and groaned. Soldiers mumbled in their sleep on the floor down below in the common room.
Ankarette and Eredur stayed up, quietly talking at the small table in his chambe
r. He told her of how young and inexperienced Isybelle had been that night at Dundrennan. How conflicted she’d been—trying to be obedient to her father’s machinations while her heart belonged to Dunsdworth. Eredur had rejected her advances with tact and kindness. He had confronted Warrewik about it that very night and the two men had had a terrible confrontation.
Eredur’s promise to keep the indiscretion concealed had calmed the situation. For a time. But the king’s generosity had not dampened Warrewik’s ambition. He had never lost the determination to achieve his goal, to see his daughter on the throne. The lack of punishment emboldened him. Which was why Eredur had forbidden to let Dunsdworth and Isybelle marry.
Hours passed. The village slept. The night seemed as if it would never end.
Then word came, just before dawn, that the Duke of Warrewik and his army were bearing down on the village. Ankarette hid in the room as one of Eredur’s knights announced the disaster with panic in his voice. They urged him to flee, to ride fast for Westmarch and attempt to join Lord Kiskaddon’s army. Eredur refused to budge. He would wait for the duke’s arrival at the inn.
The only person he told the full truth was Lord Hastings, who had ridden with Ankarette the day before. His response to the king’s strategy was bluff and to the point.
“I think you’re making a bloody mistake,” he growled with disdain.
But Eredur’s mind was firm. He dismissed them all and then waited. The duke’s horses surrounded the inn. Ankarette surreptitiously glanced through the curtain. Sir Thomas was down below! Puffs of steam came from his mouth. He was gazing up at the room, but he could not see her. His tunic was mud-stained . . . or was that blood? She studied some of the other soldiers around him.
“There has been fighting,” she told the king, who was pacing.
