Ransom cocked his head, silently inviting him to continue, even as he dreaded what would come next.
“I never knew King Gervase. I was very young when all that nonsense happened. But even as a boy, I began to see the truth about my father. How he thrived on taking the glory for everything anyone did. He cannot share power, Ransom, because he is incapable of believing anyone else is worthy of it. Because he enjoys the adulation too much. I’ve spent years seeking to win his approval, but I’m done with that. My brother had it right. Father will not accept anything less than total surrender to his will, his fame.” Benedict waved his hand. “He is the sun, and everyone else must remain in his shadow. I know he’s putting you in Bayree to keep your sword poised at my back. I see through the ploy. But remember this, neighbor. What happens next is between my father and me. I won’t countenance any meddling from you. I fear you not, Ransom. And if you’re wise, you will come to fear and respect me. Now go and tell these things to my father. I am not to be trifled with. I’ve heard whispers that he intends to strip the Vexin from me. Let me be clear: That will not be allowed. Tell him to beware lest he provoke my rebellion.”
The cold look in the blue eyes promised revenge and retribution. Ransom knew exactly how the king would respond to such a threat. Because, in a sense, Benedict was correct—anyone who challenged the king’s authority would face his wrath. Even his own sons.
Oh, Sir James is a sly one.
I must give him credit for his boldness. He takes such small liberties they seem like trifles, only they add up to something more. Smoothing a hair from my brow. Jostling my elbow. Grazing my fingers. And his words are designed to appeal to me. His offer, for example. Should we be married, I would reign in Legault, and he would rule Glosstyr. He’s paid some nefarious badgers, no doubt, for the news he brings from Atha Kleah. They are trying to forbid my house from returning, he says, words intended to cause distress. To give me the impression that time is running out—that if I remain here, trapped in the palace of Kingfountain with a disgraced queen, I will never see my homeland again, nor will they want me.
Oh, he’s a cunning one. There was no proclamation of love or sentiment. Yet still he kept touching me, as if I didn’t already know the power such simple gestures can invoke. A cunning one. But I am not taken in.
How I wish I would hear from Ransom.
—Claire de Murrow, the True Queen of Legault
(frustrated)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Honor or Truth
I am grateful you came, Marshall, truly,” said Marcus, gripping Ransom’s shoulder as he prepared to mount Dappled. “I’m proud of all you’ve accomplished.”
“I’m glad we spent the night,” Ransom said, smiling back at his elder brother. “It was good to see you all again.”
“You do justice to our family name.” His brow furrowed. “I should like Maeg to return, though. There is a young man I would like her to meet. I hope you will not need her for much longer?”
It was a subtle prod, a reminder that Ransom was not the one responsible for overseeing Maeg’s fortunes and future.
“It is your right to do as you wish,” Ransom said, looking his brother in the eye. “But I hope you consider her feelings in the matter.”
“What do feelings have to do with such things?” Marcus quipped. But his grin faded when he realized Ransom was serious.
“They matter a great deal,” Ransom said, feeling anxious for his sister—and for himself. His feelings, which had been so clear in Bayree, had become more confusing since his departure. The closer he came to Kingfountain, the more it felt like his heart was returning to its former affections. The more he found himself thinking of Claire. It unsettled him and made him want to delay his return to that place. Yet he knew he shouldn’t. He’d kissed Alix in front of his men. His sense of honor compelled him to follow such a display with marriage.
He hadn’t written to Claire since he’d agreed to visit Bayree. At first, he’d held back because he didn’t want to worry her . . . and then because he’d felt it would be better to tell her about Alix in person. Now, he was no longer sure of anything.
Marcus gave him a look, shifting Ransom’s attention back to their conversation, and he said, “If the dowry is a problem, it need not stand in the way. You know I fully intend to help.”
“It is your right to choose for your wards, Ransom. It’s not your place to dictate what happens with mine.”
“I’m not trying to,” Ransom said, trying to stifle his frustration. “I just ask you to give more thought before making her so very unhappy.”
“She’s told you about Sir Kace, then, has she?” Marcus said, his eyes flashing. He snorted in contempt.
“Maeg didn’t ask me to speak for her. I do it because I care about her. Father cared more about stones than he did about our hearts. Just . . . consider things carefully, Brother. That’s all I’m asking.”
“I’m twenty-six and unmarried,” Marcus said. “The king hasn’t seen fit to direct his favor my way. I’m not jealous. It just feels I can never get ahead. I need her to make a good match, one that will promote our fortunes, and I need to do the same.”
Ransom gave his brother a sympathetic look. Pushing the point further would only cause ill will between them. It would not change Marcus’s mind. “I can see that. It’s your choice, as is proper. It was good to see you. I hope Mother gets over her cough soon.”
“She’ll be right as rain in no time,” said Marcus. They hugged each other one last time, and then Ransom mounted Dappled.
Dearley was already mounted, along with the other knights who’d accompanied them. After they rode past the village of Heath, Dearley edged his mount closer.
“And Sir Kace is part of your brother’s mesnie, is he not?”
“Yes, he is.”
Dearley had a dour look on his face. “I don’t see why he isn’t given preference, then.”
Ransom understood Dearley’s interest in the matter. He had feelings for Elodie—but his fate, and hers, was up to Ransom to decide.
“It is the duty of a lord to provide for those who serve him,” Ransom said.
“It is indeed,” Dearley said with a longing sigh.
“Then it should please you to know that I will not force anyone to marry against their will. That’s the custom in Legault. It should be here as well. If she wants you . . . I won’t object.”
Dearley’s eyebrows lifted, and a smile brightened his face, bringing a flush to his cheeks. “I think she does—well, I hope so at least. I wouldn’t want you to compel her. That is, I would be honored if . . . I-I’m flummoxed. Thank you, Ransom. I’m relieved to hear you say it.”
“You are both still very young,” Ransom said. “There is no rush. But don’t play with her affections. Treat her honorably.” He found himself thinking of Alix again, of the scene they’d put on outside the castle. Such behavior was totally unlike him. All these years of wanting Claire, of yearning to marry her, and he’d never once kissed her.
His heart grew more troubled.
“Of course!” Dearley said. He couldn’t stop grinning, and Ransom had an idea of how he might be feeling.