The Queen's Poisoner (The Kingfountain Series Book 1)

by Jeff Wheeler

  She was oblivious to his inner turmoil. “There was fighting and arrows and crossbows. I wish I could have been there. I would love to learn how to fight, but they will not let ladies into the training yard. When you learn how to fight, you must promise to teach me. The king remained on the hill, watching as Grandpapa was losing the battle down below. Then he saw his enemy cross the field, unguarded. So the king took his household knights and they charged them. The king himself! I wish I had been there! They slammed into the rebels’ men and the king took down the standard-bearer with his own lance. His horse was cut down beneath him, but still he fought, surrounded only by his most loyal knights. And he struck down his enemy with his own sword. After he fell, the battle ended. There was no one left to fight for.” She sighed, fidgeting with a particular piece of the set. “Are you . . . afraid of going into battle?” she asked him.

  Owen looked at her, perplexed. “I’m too young.”

  “Not now, silly boy. When you are older. You start training when you are ten. It’s hard work, but I know I would love it. Like the Maid of Donremy at the siege of Lionn! When King Severn was young, he was sent to his uncle’s castle in the North to be trained in war.” She gave him an eager look. “Maybe the king will send you to the North! Wouldn’t that be wonderful, Owen Kiskaddon? Then we could have all the adventures we’ve talked about. Maybe Grandpapa would let me train too. Or you and I could do it in secret! It would be just like a dream.” She sighed contentedly.

  Owen heard the sound of someone sitting on the bench next to them and felt the shadow spread over him. He smelled her—Ankarette. The scent like a rose pressed into the pages of a book. He glanced surreptitiously at her, feeling his stomach wriggling again. There were so many people around.

  Elysabeth Victoria Mortimer lifted her head at the newcomer. She was completely unafraid of meeting new people, and it didn’t bother her in the least that an adult had come so close to their game. “Hello,” she said with a bright smile. “I’m Elysabeth Victoria Mortimer.”

  “What a lovely name,” Ankarette said, returning the smile. “Please, don’t let me disturb your game.”

  “We weren’t playing exactly,” Evie replied confidentially. “Owen is teaching me how to win. He’s very clever. Do you know who this is? He’s Owen Kiskaddon, the king’s ward. He’s my friend.” Her eyes crinkled as she reached out and squeezed Owen’s hand.

  “I can tell you are very close,” Ankarette said, her smile warm and inviting.

  “What is your name?” Evie asked.

  Owen swallowed, wondering what the reply would be. His stomach was churning with the newness of the situation. Ankarette had never come down into the kitchen before when others were around. It made him worry for her safety.

  “How thoughtful of you to ask,” Ankarette said with a winning smile. “I used to come here often, back when the queen dowager lived in the palace. There were always so many children running about back then. They had a large brood.”

  Evie nodded. “She lives in the sanctuary of Our Lady now. How sad it must be to go from being a queen to being a prisoner in a sanctuary. My grandpapa says she is never going to come out. My grandpapa is Duke Horwath. Do you know him?”

  “I do,” Ankarette answered. “You must love him a great deal.”

  She nodded vigorously. “Oh yes. He is dear to my heart. I love my grandpapa. But he brought me here to Kingfountain to meet Owen.” She patted his leg. “We’re going to be married, you know. He’s Fountain-blessed.”

  “So I’ve heard,” Ankarette said smugly. “You best play your game. I’m sorry to have bothered you. I love playing Wizr myself.”

  “Would you like to play with us?” Evie said. “What was your name again? I thought you had told me, but then I realized you hadn’t. You’re very pretty. I like how your hair is done up like that. It’s so beautiful. Mine isn’t long enough yet, but when I’m older, I will wear it like yours. What was your name?”

  Another sound reached Owen’s ears, one that caused a jolt of alarm. It was Dunsdworth’s voice, and from the tone, he had come looking for trouble. Owen glanced at the door as the older boy came swaggering into the kitchen, disdainful of the crowds, and began elbowing his way over to the very corner where they sat.

  Ankarette’s face went white. “I must go,” she whispered softly. Rising from the bench, she started away from them and headed toward the bread ovens. It was all happening so quickly, Owen could only take note of his own alarm and hers before Dunsdworth came close enough to see her. As the older boy gazed upon Ankarette, his expression altered into recognition.

  “You?” Dunsdworth said in shock and surprise. Ankarette took advantage of the commotion to try and slip away, but the boy barged through the crowd and cut her off.

  “I think he knows her,” Evie said with concern. She rose, a frown forming on her lips. “Who was she?”

  Dunsdworth’s face was livid with rage. “You . . . you’re alive? But how can this be? What trickery?”

  So Dunsdworth knew Ankarette Tryneowy. He recognized her. The dread thickened inside Owen, almost choking him.

  “I’m afraid you’re confused,” Ankarette said softly, trying to escape, but the young man barred her way and reached out to grab her arm. She deftly avoided the hand, retreating deeper into the kitchen. Owen knew she could easily best Dunsdworth, but this was not a contest of skill. Too much attention had already been directed at them.

  If Ankarette were caught, Owen had no doubt she would be killed. It was his fault she had come down into the kitchen at all. He needed to help her. But how? His mind worked furiously to solve the problem. Then he felt a little gush bloom inside him, followed by a flowing sensation, and suddenly his mind was full of ideas. He saw all the possibilities laid out before him. And he acted.

  He grabbed one of the Wizr pieces, jumped over the bench, and rushed toward Dunsdworth. Distract him. Draw him away so Ankarette could escape through the secret door.

  “Look what the king gave me!” Owen said loudly. He rushed up to Dunsdworth and shoved the piece beneath his nose.

  “Who cares about your toy!” Dunsdworth thundered, trying to shove Owen out of his way.

  Owen thrust the piece into his face again. “It’s not a toy. It’s the king’s gift! You probably don’t even know how to play Wizr.”

  The rebuke was enough to wrest Dunsdworth’s attention away from Ankarette. “Why would I care to play that silly game? Life is not like Wizr. Two pieces of stone aren’t two men, one trained more than the other.” He yanked the piece out of Owen’s hand and gave him a rough shove.

  “That’s mine!” Owen shouted with pretended rage. “You’re jealous because the king gave me a gift and he only teases you. Give it back!” Owen grabbed Dunsdworth’s belt and yanked it hard to try and propel himself upward. As he yanked, his fingers began to deftly loosen the belt buckle. “It’s mine!”

  “Give it back!” Evie shouted angrily. She had rushed up to them and was standing nearby, her fists clenched and her cheeks pale with anger. “It’s Owen’s!”

  “Get off!” Dunsdworth barked. He waved the piece over his head with one hand and gave Owen a hard shove with the other, sending him crashing to the ground.

  With Dunsdworth’s belt.

  Without the belt, Dunsdworth’s pants dropped down to his ankles, revealing his linen braies, which were hitched up high. There was a spattering of laughter throughout the kitchen, but it was the tittering of the ladies that made the lad’s face turn purple. Owen’s arm hurt from landing on the hard tiles, but his plan had worked. Ankarette had used the commotion to slip away.

  Suddenly Dunsdworth’s purple face twisted with wrath and revenge. He threw down the piece and leaped on top of Owen. Snatching his belt, he started to thrash the smaller boy with vigor.

  The explosion of pain made Owen gasp in shock and roll into a ball like a ticklebug.

  “Stop it! Stop it!” Evie shrieked, launching herself at Dunsdworth like a cat. She yanked his hair a
nd clawed at him in a frenzy. Freed from the onslaught for a moment, Owen could only look on in awe, surprised at how the girl had turned into a fury.

  To protect himself, Dunsdworth shoved her away too, sending her sprawling, which caused the witnesses to gasp.

  Owen, curled up on the floor, saw his opening. Without even rising, he kicked out his foot and caught Dunsdworth in his most sensitive area. The purple angry face went milk-white as the young man tottered over, clutching himself and whimpering.

  And it was in that precise moment, as Elysabeth Victoria Mortimer was about to hurl herself at the older boy again in rage and eat his heart, that her grandfather, Duke Horwath, stormed into the kitchen. He saw his little girl on the floor, her face wet with tears of fury. He saw Dunsdworth with no pants. And he saw Owen curled up like a beaten pup.

  The duke was not gentle as he hauled the young man to his feet and nearly threw him out of the kitchen ahead of him. Owen almost pitied the condemned, but then his body began to tremble with all the pent-up fear, pain, and shame of the last moments. He didn’t feel the cut on his cheekbone from the belt buckle until Evie was kneeling in front of him worriedly. She was so angry she was sobbing.

  “Are you all right?” she pleaded, using the hem of her dress to mop the blood from his cheek.

  He glanced at the doorway from which the duke had left with Dunsdworth. And he saw Mancini slip back into the kitchen, a satisfied smile playing on his flabby mouth. The Espion gazed down at Owen on the floor and gave him a little nod of respect. Owen returned the gesture.

  “I’ll be all right,” he groaned, clutching his stomach, making his injuries look worse than they really were.

  Together, he and Mancini had helped save Ankarette. Something had shifted between them. It was as if they now shared an alliance of self-preservation.

  Owen let Evie nurse him. And in a moment, the Princess Elyse was kneeling by him as well.

  “Well done,” she whispered in his ear.

  Her praise was worth the pain.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Secrets of Wine

  Ankarette came to Owen’s room that night, much to his surprise. After dark, he tracked the passing hours by how low his candle burned. It was still high and bright when the hidden door opened and she emerged, soundless as a shadow. He would not have left to seek her for some time.

  “Ankarette!” he whispered, rising from the floor where he had spread his Wizr board. He had been playing with the pieces while he waited.

  “There’s a little cut on your cheek,” she said, with a wrinkle in her brow.

  He nodded. “Liona put some goose grease on it. It doesn’t sting that much.”

  She knelt in front of him so that their eyes were level. As he stood before her, she reached out and smoothed the hair on his forehead. “You saved me this afternoon, Owen Kiskaddon. Despite all our plans, things happen that surprise us.” She paused, giving him such a serious and tender look that he flushed. She placed her hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you, Owen. I’m so grateful.”

  He swallowed, feeling his ears burn pink. “You’re helping me. I had to help you.”

  She then took his hands in hers and kissed them before letting them go. “Bless you for it. Thank you. Now come with me.”

  “It’s early still. Part of the castle is still awake.”

  “I know. We’re not going to the tower. We’re going to Elysabeth’s room.”

  Owen stared at her in shock. “You mean . . . we’re going to tell her?” he asked excitedly.

  Ankarette gave him a knowing nod. “When I met her in the kitchen, I studied her closely. I believe she is trustworthy. Now we’ll prove if I’m right. Better to know sooner than later. Come with me.”

  She rose and held out her hand, which he gratefully took. He was used to walking the secret corridors alone, but going with her added a secret pleasure. “What will you tell her?” he asked in a whisper, knowing that voices could carry.

  “You’ll see,” she replied softly, squeezing his hand.

  “She talks a lot, Ankarette. She talks so much. She’s chatty. Are you sure?”

  “Yes, she’s loquacious. That’s the proper word. But I like that about her. When I saw what she did after Dunsdworth’s boy started flogging you—how she attacked him like a cat—that earned her my respect. You want someone like her on your side. And how you tricked him out of his pants? Oh, Owen, you’ve made an enemy for life. I hope you realize that. But he and his family have been my enemies for years. I will tell you of it tonight . . . with her to hear the story.”

  When they reached the secret door leading to Evie’s room, they paused. Ankarette secretly slid open the spyhole and gazed into the room. Candlelight streamed into the corridor from the interior of the room, and the light exposed Ankarette’s luminous eyes and the skin of her cheeks. She looked so hauntingly pretty at that moment, and Owen felt lucky to know her.

  “She’s still awake, good,” Ankarette whispered. She slid the spyhole shut and then crouched by Owen so she could whisper into his ear. Her breath tickled him. She had the scent of roses about her still. “You go in first and tell her that you’d like her to meet a secret friend. Someone who has been trying to help you. Tell her you are about to entrust her with your greatest secret. I’ll listen and see what she says. Can you remember that?”

  “Yes,” Owen whispered. He was so excited to finally tell Evie the truth that he nearly barged into the room.

  Ankarette released the hidden latch and Owen pushed the door open and slipped inside the room. He left the hidden door ajar.

  “How did you get in here?” Evie gasped. She was kneeling on her bed in her nightgown, brushing her dark hair. She scooted off the bed, her eyes gleaming with surprise. “Is that a secret door? Have you come in here before? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Ssshhh!” Owen insisted, holding up his hands to try and stop the flow of questions. He put his finger to his own lips to show her she needed to be quiet. She was almost bouncing with excitement, her eyes glittering.

  “Tell me!” she said, her hands flapping.

  “I want to. Ssshh! Someone will hear us. I want to tell you my greatest secret. But first I need to know I can trust you not to tell.”

  She looked at him with exasperation. “Of course you can trust me! I haven’t told anyone about the cistern. Do you think Grandpapa would like to know that? There are some things you just don’t tell adults. What is it? I’m about to burst!” She gripped his arms and shook him just a little.

  “Quiet!” he said urgently. “I want you to meet someone. A friend. Someone who is trying to help me escape.”

  “Why do you need to escape?” she asked.

  “Because I don’t want to get pushed off a waterfall like my older brother!” Owen said, getting frustrated. “Look, will you keep this a secret? If I can’t tell you—”

  “Of course I will!” she said indignantly. “I would never betray you, Owen Kiskaddon. Never.” She put her finger on her brow, thinking hard. “You can . . . you can cut off all my hair if I do!”

  The thought of her bald made him giggle. But then her eyes widened with surprise as she looked over his shoulder. Ankarette had come into the room.

  “The lady from the kitchen,” she whispered in awe.

  Ankarette came and sat on the edge of Evie’s bed. The soft candlelight highlighted her silk gown and perfectly coiffed hair. She looked like such a fairy creature that Elysabeth’s mouth formed a lovely O as she stared at her. For the first time, Owen noticed there were some similarities between them—the color of their hair and their eyes almost matched. If Elysabeth Victoria Mortimer grew up looking like Ankarette Tryneowy, he would have no problem marrying her.

  “I’m pleased to meet you again, my lady,” Ankarette said, bowing her head respectfully. “Owen tells me you are Elysabeth Victoria Mortimer, daughter of Lord Mortimer and granddaughter of Lord Horwath. You have esteemed parentage.”

  A small smile
came to Evie’s face. “Who are you?” she asked, looking intrigued but also a little wary.

  “My name is Ankarette Tryneowy. I am the queen’s poisoner.”

  If possible, the girl’s eyes seemed to light up even more. “Truly? That is so interesting. You make poisons? But you said you’re the queen’s poisoner. The queen died. Did you . . . did you poison her?”

  Ankarette suppressed a smile. “I served a different queen than King Severn’s wife. And no, I did not poison her. She died from a sickness. I have been teaching Owen Kiskaddon many things, but most importantly, how to become Fountain-blessed. I am Fountain-blessed.”

  “You are?” she asked eagerly, even more involved if that were possible. Owen was so grateful that he did not have to carry the burden of the secret alone.

  “I am. Owen is very special to me. I know he is to you, as well. I don’t want the king to hurt him or his family if I can help it. I came here tonight to tell you both a story. Owen wanted so much to tell you about me. He’s been pleading with me to trust you, so I came by the kitchen today to see if I dared. When you defended your friend against a much bigger boy, I knew that I could give you my confidence.”

  Evie smiled with self-satisfaction. “Grandpapa said I should leave flogging to him. But I couldn’t stand by while Dunsdworth beat Owen with a belt. Did you see what it did to his cheek? It wasn’t Owen’s fault his pants fell down!”

  Ankarette suppressed a smile as she gave Owen a pointed look.

  “Actually, it was,” Owen admitted.

  Evie covered her mouth, stifling a laugh. “You are wicked,” she said, laughing softly. “He deserved it.” She turned her gaze on Ankarette. “If you are trying to help Owen, then I want to help too.”

  “I thought you would,” Ankarette replied sagely. “So I must tell you both a story. It is a secret that very few know about. But even though it’s a secret, it is still true. Why don’t you both sit on the floor and listen? It is the story of how I died.”