That accomplished, Ransom rode Dappled beneath the portcullis and sighed when he saw the interior grounds had been mended in his absence. The gardens were thriving, and new bushes had been planted to replace those that had been trampled. Ransom had tried to reclaim Josselin multiple times over the years, but it had strong defenses and determined defenders.
They dismounted and followed Lord Montfort into the castle. Dearley had a look of wistfulness as they made their way through the halls, his mind probably steeped in memories of what this place had meant to him and Elodie. Ransom followed Lord Montfort to the solar, a room that had once been one of his favorite places in the castle. The furnishings had changed a little, but it still felt the same.
Lord Montfort walked to the large window overlooking the courtyard down below, and Ransom joined him, looking down at the scene with him. His knights were walking about freely enough, but there was clear tension between them and the castle defenders.
Dearley walked to one of the tables and lifted a figurine that stood there, examining it.
“Does Estian truly want peace?” Ransom asked.
“This war has been costly, my lord,” said Montfort. “Many of the dukes have been pressuring him for peace. And so have I.” His gray eyes narrowed with determination.
“I notice you do not call yourself a duke,” Ransom said.
Lord Montfort shook his head. “I am not. I’m the duchess’s consort, just as you are in Legault. From my understanding, your title comes from Glosstyr. We are similar in other ways as well.”
Ransom’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“We both seek to do the Fountain’s will,” said Montfort softly. “After marrying Lady Constance, I see the world through new eyes. The excesses of court offend me now. My lady misses her son. If we can achieve peace through this agreement, then Estian has promised to return him to us.”
Ransom turned and looked into the courtyard. Constance’s son, Drew, was a scion of the Argentine family, the son of Jon-Landon’s brother Goff. He was one of three surviving Argentine heirs, the others being Jon-Landon and the young prince. But the Fountain had whispered to Ransom that Devon, the young prince, was the one who would inherit the kingdom. He was the one the Occitanians would try to kill.
Distrust welled up inside him. Was Montfort, like Kiskaddon, trying to persuade him to make a different kind of deal?
“So your loyalties are conflicted,” Ransom said, still gazing out the window.
“As are yours, I believe,” Montfort said. “You serve a man unfit to wear the hollow crown. Jon-Landon is inept and mercurial. His efforts to seed spies in Pree is laughable. Do not trust anything his Espion says about our intentions. He’s being deliberately misled.”
“Because your king seeks to supplant him,” Ransom said. He turned his head and gazed into the man’s steel eyes.
“That’s not our purpose. Both boys are too young to rule Ceredigion, although I’ll not deny Drew is better equipped for the job. And with Constance advising him, you know the kingdom would be ruled justly.”
A throb of warning flashed in Ransom’s heart. “I will not betray my king.”
Montfort held up his hands. “I’m not asking you to, nor is it a requirement of this truce. As you know, Estian has promised to return this castle to you so long as you swear fealty to him in all manners related to Josselin. It is a token that his overture of peace is legitimate.”
“Then why should I trust you now?” Ransom asked. “After such a confession?”
“You should trust me because Constance trusts me. You were a child during the wars of succession. You were held hostage just as her son is being held prisoner. Four years of peace. Let us stop taking advantage of each other, stop fueling ill will among the nobility. Let us agree to stand down, sheathe our swords, and heal the land, lest the Deep Fathoms lose patience and destroy us both.”
“Four years?” Ransom asked. “I was told it was two.”
“Four years. Do you not wish to see your children while they are still young? I am soon to be a father myself,” he said emphatically. “Constance is with child. You and I want the same thing, Lord Ransom. We both want peace between our realms. Imagine if the four years could become longer. Much can change in four years.”
In four years his own sons would be of an age to start looking for where they could train. He’d considered sending one to Dundrennan, under Maeg’s care, the other perhaps to Lord Kiskaddon. So much time had been lost already. Their childhoods had been squandered because of the endless war.
“I have come here to broker peace between our realms,” Montfort said. “As you have too, if I’m not mistaken. There has been enough bloodshed, has there not?”
Ransom longed for what was being promised, but history bid him proceed with caution. He doubted Estian would keep his word.
“I will not go to Pree to attend to your king,” Ransom said, shaking his head. “Estian warned me that if I ever did, I would be executed.”
“If I recall, you did threaten to decapitate him,” said Montfort with a wry smile.
“It was deserved.”
“The king would be willing to accept your oath of homage at Chessy instead. You may bring whatever size host you desire. If you are agreeable, if you accept the terms, then I can communicate this to him immediately.”
“I have my king’s permission,” Ransom said. “I don’t need to return to Beestone to seek it.”
“I trusted that you wouldn’t have sent word you were coming otherwise. Am I to hope for a positive outcome, then? The decision seems to hang on you.”
Ransom turned away from the window and began to pace. “The decision hangs on whether or not I can trust Estian.”
Lord Montfort held up his hands. “He’s giving you your castle back. I’ve told you that his dukes don’t want to fight anymore. Peace benefits us all. And perhaps, over time, we can negotiate a more lasting truce.”
“How so?” Ransom asked, turning to face him.
“Jon-Landon has a daughter. Drew will need a wife. They are cousins, true, but that has not stopped such alliances in the past.” He held up his hands. “My point is that we might find new ways to bargain. Our generation has seen enough of war.”
Ransom stepped closer to him. He dropped his voice low so that only Montfort could hear it. “Constance has a special talent. Sometimes she knows the future.”
Montfort nodded with a knowing smile. Responding in a similarly hushed voice, he said, “I know of the stones, my lord. She’s the one who told me that I would be the one negotiating with you.”
“Has she seen Drew’s future?” Ransom whispered.
Montfort shook his head. “She only looks in the stones if the Fountain bids her do so. You know this because she has told you.”
Ransom knew that Montfort could not have known about the seering stones unless Constance had told him. And she wouldn’t have told him unless she trusted him.
Ransom wanted to say yes. He listened to the surge of feelings in his heart, his ears attuned for a reprimand or warning from the Fountain, but he heard nothing.
“Does Estian truly want Drew to be king?”
Montfort sighed. “Estian only wants himself to be king, but he’s wise enough to realize he cannot conquer Ceredigion by war. Not with you standing in his way.”