A feeling of inevitability struck Ransom in his chest. He saw Benedict’s confidence, his swagger, and the determination in his eyes. But there was something more. It was the look of a man who’d had too much to drink. A man under Alix’s influence.
“Bennett,” Ransom said, coming closer. “This conflict with your father is unnecessary. Name your terms. I think you will find him agreeable to them.”
Benedict chuckled. “I know him far better than you. He doesn’t want to lose. Yet he is going to.” His eyes became deadly serious. “I want to defeat him.”
“It will cost lives. There will be bloodshed. It will weaken us against our true enemy.”
“Our true enemy? There you go, spluttering the same words that Father uses. Estian’s father had Devon killed, but the son shouldn’t be made to suffer for his crime. We have provoked this conflict, and I seek to end it! And since when are you squeamish about bloodshed? If I recall, you severed the arm of the duchess’s champion in Brythonica.”
Ransom bowed his head, trying to master his feelings, trying to understand the confusion rattling inside his skull. There was some power at work. Something related to Lady Alix’s mysterious abilities.
“I’m not afraid to fight you,” Ransom said. “And neither is your father. But he is prepared to give you a crown to wear. Half of the kingdom, Bennett—now. You don’t have to take the whole.”
“I don’t believe in his promises,” Benedict shot back. “Not anymore. He’s losing, and he knows it. Nothing will entice me to back down. I have a superior force, a better strategy, and every likelihood of winning. I am not my brother Devon.”
Ransom sensed the situation was hopeless. “Your brother had many advantages too, yet he failed twice. No battle is ever certain. Much can happen on the field.”
“I know,” said Benedict. “I’ve been training all my life to defeat you, Sir Ransom. I’m ready to prove it. By now you know of my alliance with Sir James, the new duke of the North. Earlier today, I sent out two hundred letters rallying the people of Ceredigion to my side. Two hundred letters, Ransom. I wrote each of them myself. I made promises to some and threats to others. Men are motivated by their hearts. By ambition and by fear. My father has taught me well, and it shouldn’t surprise him that I’ve learned from him.” Benedict shook his head. “But I have none of his bitterness against Occitania. If he does not want this war, then have him come to Beestone on his knees and beg my pardon. I’m sure he’ll find the tower to be suitably comfortable.”
Ransom tried not to let his anguish show. “There is no need to humiliate him. It is beneath you.”
The jab at Benedict’s honor stung, and it showed. He turned around, his face muscles twitching with raw emotion. He walked back to the table against the wall and took a cup and drank from it. He swallowed and then steadied himself. Gone was the rage and bluster. The man’s mastery of himself impressed Ransom. Alix did not interfere at all. But that did not mean her presence wasn’t influencing the scene.
“Father always criticized us if we were too emotional,” Benedict said. “Yet he’s always had the biggest outbursts of any of us. I’ve made up my mind, Ransom. He will yield and face imprisonment, or he will fall in battle. War is the ultimate test of manhood. Such was his example to me. And by his example shall he fall. The letters are sent, Ransom. I cannot unsend them.”
“You will break his heart,” Ransom said.
The duke shrugged and took another sip. “Just as he broke Mother’s? I do this for her as much as for myself. He promises to release her, but when? He’d haggle and delay, all the while preparing to double-cross me. She deserves better than that. She deserves her freedom now. I’ve learned much about her in her homeland.” He looked at Lady Alix and smiled. “And of what she has been through in her life.”
“You trust Estian at your peril.”
“I have more reason to trust him than I do my father,” Benedict said with a frown. “I would welcome you to my side, Ransom. If you forsook him, it would end. Everyone, even Lord Kinghorn, would follow your example. But you won’t. Alix told me you won’t, and she is never wrong.”
Ransom looked at her, saw the cold defiance on her face.
“I’m sorry,” he said to her.
She didn’t respond with words, but her disdain was evident.
He turned his gaze back to Benedict. “And I’m sorry for your brother’s death. What a terrible . . . accident.” He let doubt thicken his voice.
Benedict scowled but didn’t rise to take the bait. “You are welcome to spend the night in Beestone, but I have a feeling you’re anxious to return to my father. Like a faithful hound.”
It smarted, but Ransom ignored it. “She does not serve you,” he said, pointing to Alix. “She may be your sister, but she killed your brother.”
“I know this already,” Benedict said with exasperation. “She only did it at Lewis’s command. He’s responsible for what happened. He’s dead, and Devon too, and that cannot be cured. I could have asked Estian to have Father poisoned. But I don’t want to win the throne that way. I don’t need her skills to defeat him.” His brows contracted. “You’ve chosen your side. I’ve chosen mine. We shall see who prevails and who can fulfill the promises they’ve made.”
Those words haunted Ransom. He took the prince to mean that he would not fulfill the Elder King’s promises.
“I’ve delivered my message,” Ransom said.
“You have. Your duty is fulfilled. Farewell, Ransom. Until we meet again with steel and helm. This time it will not be on the tournament grounds or the training yard.”
Ransom eyed the prince and pushed his Fountain magic out against him, trying to tell if he had weaknesses. Benedict looked at him, unaware of what was happening, and Ransom pried into his soul. He was strong and fit, an able warrior, but he lacked Ransom’s ability, his prowess. And he didn’t have a scabbard that would prevent him from bleeding to death. In a contest, it was only a matter of time. Ransom would win, and he knew it.
“I’ll be sorry on that day, Bennett,” he answered. “But I will fight for the king.”
“I know,” Benedict said. Then he gave him a nod of dismissal.
Ransom turned and left the solar, his heart discouraged at his failure to reconcile father and son. Partway down the passage, he sensed Alix coming up behind him. He turned to face her, in part to let her know that he was aware of her presence.
She didn’t attempt to hide her approach. Her eyes burned with anger, and she didn’t stop until she was close enough to touch him.
“I gave you a chance to stop this madness,” she said softly, “but you refused me. Remember that. What happens next is your fault.”
He looked at her and felt an overwhelming sense of confusion. His love of Claire shrank in Alix’s presence, but his convictions did not.
“What is your power truly?” he asked her. “You said it was one thing, but I don’t believe you. I sense you using it even now.”
A smirk twisted her mouth. “We all have our secrets, Ransom. Even you.”
He heard the sound of boots behind him in the corridor and felt a throb of danger. She looked over his shoulder, which made him copy her.