Ransom felt a twinge of sorrow for having killed the man. “He was your uncle, then?”
She shook her head. “But that was what I called him. That was what everyone believed. As you may have guessed, I am the natural daughter of the Duchess of Vexin. Your queen.” She seemed to wrestle inwardly with some dark emotion, then shook it off and continued. “The Duke of Bayree thought to woo her after her father died. He sent his first knight to win her trust, to see if she would be amenable to such an alliance, but another offer had come in from the Duke of Westmarch. That duchy was more significant, more powerful than Bayree. In his zeal to persuade my mother to love his master, the knight . . .” Her voice trailed off. Her lips pressed tightly together. “Let’s just say they failed to suppress their affection for each other. I was born of their union. I was their shame. Queen Emiloh got rid of me as soon as I was born. She ordered her lover, the knight, to take me away. And I was brought here. My uncle, the man I call my uncle, took me in. And now he is dead, and he has named me his heir.”
She breathed out slowly. “King Lewis had other plans for me. He sent me to be trained by an order of women in the kingdom of Pisan. To be used as a tool to ensure that his son, the Black Prince, would one day rule over all the kingdoms. I have been their tool for most of my life, Ransom. But what has happened now . . . it changes everything. The game of Wizr is almost over, and Devon will likely win it.”
“Game?” Ransom asked with confusion. He felt his pulse in his ears as she told her story. She knew things that he did not. She could help him understand his place in the world, and he was hungry for it.
“A magical Wizr board has been handed down for generations among the kings of Occitania. Lewis, and now Estian, knew what would happen in our conflicts because of that board and what it reveals to him. I’ve seen it, Ransom. I know where Estian hides it. If your king had it, he could defeat Occitania. You and I have been enemies playing each other across that board, both of us pawns of our kings. This is the chance to change that. If you become the Duke of Bayree, if you take this land, then it will change my allegiance. It will break the curse that I’m bound to.” She shook her head. “There’s too much to tell you. Too much you don’t know.” She put her hand on his, and he felt the pearls of her bracelet graze his skin as her eyes bored into his. “You have a decision to make.”
Another outburst erupted in court today. The prince continues to make demands. I cannot help but see the influence of James Wigant in all of this. He has spent so much time with the prince of late. What is in it for Sir James, I wonder? What does this turmoil give him? I cannot see it unless his aim is something totally foolish like wanting me for himself. Surely he’s not that simple. Or maybe he just thrives on creating discord. One cannot be too careful in choosing one’s friends . . . or enemies.
—Claire de Murrow
(missing Legault . . . longing for a walk among the barrow mounds)
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A New Future
Ransom stared down at the hand covering his. The warmth and softness caused unfamiliar feelings to stir inside him. Dangerous feelings. He pulled his hand away and then stood. Her eyes lowered in embarrassment.
“What decision?” he demanded.
“About us, Ransom,” she said, her gaze still downcast. “This is the first glimpse of freedom I’ve ever had. A chance to change sides. I can only do that if you accept me. If you become the Duke of Bayree.” She looked up at him. “I’m not your enemy, Ransom. I am loyal to Estian because I have to be. If your king discovers who I really am, he will forbid us to marry. You’ve seen what he’s done to the queen. To my mother.” She swallowed and then stood and approached him. She gently touched his face. “You’re exhausted, and I’ve added to your burdens. Get some rest. I promise I will not harm you or any of your knights. I wanted you to see that it is in my best interest to accept you. To accept this twist of fate.” She lowered her hand. “I have feelings which . . . they are difficult to express. I’ve seen you from the shadows for so long. As a danger to my missions, yes. But I’ve also seen you as a man. An honorable one.” She shook her head sadly. “There is no honor in Pree. The tournaments, the fanfare. It’s all a show. Think about what I’ve told you. We can talk on the morrow.” She started to walk away but then paused. Without looking back, she said, “I know your heart has been committed elsewhere. I only ask that you consider what may be.”
His heart churned with warring feelings as he watched her leave. He thought of Claire, picturing in his mind her hair, her smile, her laugh. It pained him to think of giving up hope. Of relinquishing what his heart had wanted for so long. But the king had made it clear he never intended to yield. And now this . . .
Should he confide in King Devon the truth about Alix of Bayree? His sense of loyalty trembled at the thought of concealing it, but she’d seemed so sincere, so eager for his help.
He felt her presence fading as she went down the stairs. Weary to his bones, he walked back to his room and found Dearley still sound asleep on the couch. Ransom went to the chair by the window and sat down, mulling over the strange things she had said about magic Wizr boards and curses of allegiance. And he fell asleep soon afterward.
The following days were much like the first. Ransom and his knights helped in the kitchens, buried those who had died during the night, and cared for the horses that cluttered the inner yard. Alix spent the day treating wounds, using her skills to heal and comfort. He watched the care she showed to the injured, and his confusion about her only deepened.
One late afternoon, weariness overcame him, and he wandered through the square castle a little until he found a reading room stacked with books, most of which were written in Occitanian. He took a book of stories of the Fountain-blessed to a couch and stretched out on it, starting to read. The script was difficult to translate, which taxed his mind, and he fell asleep.
He dreamed and knew it was a dream. In it, he was walking in the gardens at Josselin castle, hand in hand with Alix. The bright sunlight flashed off her golden tresses as they made their way through the gardens, and he felt a powerful sense of peace and contentment. In the dream, he saw Maeg walking with Sir Kace, the two of them smiling at each other shyly, and his heart swelled with gratitude. He brought Alix’s hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. There was a smell to them. A perfumed smell. When had he ever experienced a dream so real, so intense?
It was a dream. It had to be a dream.
And he awoke to the feeling of a kiss on his brow.
Ransom’s eyes fluttered open, and the chains of sleep began to loosen, although the exhaustion did not lift. He felt weighed down by a suit of armor, even though he only wore his hauberk and a tunic. Lady Alix knelt at the edge of the sofa, pulling away from the kiss she’d just given his forehead.
“I should have let you sleep,” she said, smiling as if she’d just received the greatest news in the world. “But I couldn’t. I had to wake you.” Her smile brightened even more. The light was beginning to fade outside the window. It was nearly sunset.
Ransom grunted as he sat up, and the book tumbled from his lap, thudding on the floor. She reached out and smoothed his hair. “They just arrived, Ransom. Carts full of candles from Josselin castle. Food. And barbers. At least a dozen. They came because of you.” She sighed in wonderment. “Thank you. I don’t know how to thank you, but . . . thank you still.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You are a lovely man. Now I feel I can finally get some rest.”