He looked at Ransom with utter sincerity and conviction. We mortals instinctively trust people to tell the truth because we are, in our hearts, truthful beings. That is the law we no longer remember. But in the mortal coil, we are susceptible to deception.
Ransom found himself trembling, his entire body quivering as if he bore the weight of the entire castle on his back. The phantasm before him spoke words of truth that echoed within the deepest reaches of his being.
You were chosen, but you can still be deceived. I cannot make your decisions for you. It is up to you. But I came back to warn you. I still love you, my boy.
The look in the king’s eyes turned fiercer, more determined.
You already know what you must do. You’ve known for some time. You merely have to muster the courage to do it. I wish I had had someone like you to serve me when I was king.
The ghost king reached out his wraithlike hand, and streams of mist curled from it. The touch, when it came, felt like the morning fog.
“Thank you,” Ransom choked out, trying not to sob.
The ghost king looked around at the anteroom, a smile of contentment on his mouth, and then he dissolved into vapor, and the churning of the fountain ceased.
Ransom collapsed onto the floor.
A hand touched his shoulder and shook him. “Are you unwell? Why are you sleeping on the floor?”
Ransom blinked awake, blinded by the sunlight streaming in through the window. He raised his hand to block the light and felt stiff and uncomfortable.
He lifted his head and found a serving girl crouched next to him, looking at him with confusion. She was probably twelve years old, and her expression indicated she thought he was either very drunk or very foolish, or maybe both.
“Is it sunrise?” he asked, sitting up and stifling a groan. His strength was sapped and weak, as if he’d run against the surf for days.
“Can’t you see the sunlight? You’re lucky I found you first, or you might have gotten a scolding from your lord.”
He sat up, and it was then he remembered the vision of King Gervase. His mentor’s words still burned in his heart. They had awakened him to the truth. He rose to his feet, and the serving girl did the same.
“Thank you for waking me,” he said. “Go about your business.”
“The same with you,” said the girl with accusing eyes. She tossed her head as she walked off.
Ransom rubbed his arms, his mind in a fog. He knew it had been no dream. His sword was still strapped to his waist, although the raven’s head wasn’t glowing anymore. All the conflict and angst he’d felt over the past days had been crushed beneath the certainty of what he needed to do. It wouldn’t be easy. King Devon would likely be furious with him.
None of that mattered anymore. The Fountain had sent King Gervase to him, and he intended to take his advice with the utmost seriousness. He needed to be honest. If Alix had indeed deceived him, it explained why his feelings had altered so much after leaving Bayree and why she’d been so eager for him to return quickly. Being away from her had lessened her hold on him.
He left the alcove and walked to the king’s private chamber. When he got there, he saw two of the king’s guards, Sir Axien and Sir Thatcher, on duty.
“The king didn’t summon you, Sir Ransom,” said Sir Thatcher.
“I know, but I must speak with him urgently.”
Both knights looked confused, but Sir Axien opened the door and slipped inside. He returned a moment later and gestured for Ransom to enter.
The king was holding out his arms as his manservant put a royal robe on his shoulders. A discarded meal was on the table, along with many scrolls and papers.
“This is unusual,” the king said with a grin. “Are you so eager to set sail for Brugia that you’ve come for your orders?”
“No, my lord,” Ransom answered, bowing his head in greeting. “I need to speak with you.”
“Obviously, or you wouldn’t have interrupted my ablutions so rudely. Well, speak up, man! There is much to do today, and I must get to it!”
“Could we speak privately, my lord? What I have to say is of a sensitive nature.”
King Devon rolled his eyes and swatted at the manservant, who was holding up a pair of shoes he’d selected for the king. “Be gone! I can put on my own shoes today.” The servant departed through a side door and shut it behind him, leaving the two of them alone.
The king walked to the breakfast platter and picked up a cube of cheese. “Have you eaten yet? I’m about finished. They always give me much more food than I need.”
“I’m not hungry,” Ransom said, and it was true. His stomach squirmed with the knowledge of what he had to do.
“Speak, then. You are not going to refuse to marry the girl, are you? You can’t go back on it now, my boy.”
The endearment, so recently heard from Gervase, made Ransom flinch. The two kings couldn’t be more different in temperament. With Devon the Elder, there was always an edge of sarcasm, prepared to become sharp and cutting if the situation changed in a way that was not to his liking.
“I will if you still command me to. But in my desire to please you, I left out news that I should have shared. It may . . . change your mind.”
The king had been biting through another cube of cheese. His expression became wary, then angry, and he set the half-eaten morsel back down on the platter. “What are you saying, Ransom? You lied to me?”
“I withheld the full truth from you, my lord. And I am sorry. I’ve had two . . . restless nights now because of it. Let me be frank with you, my lord. I wanted to please you. I wanted to marry her, at least I thought I did.”
“You’re not making any sense,” the king growled. “Out with it!”
“I told you I knew Lady Alix. That she’s the one who healed me. But she is also a trained poisoner who served King Lewis and now answers to King Estian. She wants to serve you . . . or so she has claimed.”
The king’s face became pale with the news. He blinked quickly, absorbing the information. His cheek muscle twitched. “A poisoner?”
“Yes, my lord. There is more.”
“Did she . . . was she the one who killed my son?” he asked, his voice suddenly raspy.
“It was her,” Ransom said. “She was there at Beestone castle.”
The king glanced away. “There is . . . more, you say? You’ve already ruined my entire day. How much worse can this get?”
Ransom licked his lips. “Lady Alix . . . if that is her true name . . . this poisoner is also the daughter of . . .” Words failed him, but the king’s eyes widened with shock and understanding.
“Emiloh?” the king whispered in horror.
Ransom nodded. “I should have told you before.”
“By the blazes, yes, you should have!” the king thundered.
Ransom’s stomach shriveled. “I apologize, my lord. I discovered, two years ago, that she was the queen’s daughter. I also knew she was the one who had healed me. I had no notion that she was the Duke of Bayree’s niece. Except she isn’t, I think. I believe he took her in and claimed her as his own.” Ransom was talking too fast, so he shut his mouth.
The king stared down at the ground in disbelief, his face a mask of unspeakable pain. He shook his head, blinking rapidly.