“Ransom,” Simon murmured.
Her words did not compel him to listen, but he was deeply curious. He still gripped the dagger in his hand, wondering if he should charge her and try to grab her before she fled through the waters. He didn’t think he was fast enough, though.
“Simon must stay,” Ransom said.
“Have the others retreat. I won’t stay much longer. Just know that you put his life at risk by keeping him here.”
“Because you’ll kill him?” Ransom said angrily.
“No, because your king will if he finds out that he knows. It’s your choice. But make it quickly.”
Ransom didn’t take his eyes off her for a moment. “Simon . . .”
“I’m staying,” he said with conviction.
The other sentries backed away down the corridor.
Ransom glared at her. “If this is another ploy, Alix . . .”
“I would that it were!” she said, her voice full of anguish that seemed genuine. She lowered the cowl, and he saw that her emotions were churning. Resentment, disgust, anger, sorrow—all battled and clashed on her face.
“Say what you mean and be done with it!” Ransom demanded.
Alix’s eyes burned into his. “The hostages are dead. All of them.”
Ransom blinked in surprise. “You don’t make any sense.”
“The hostages from the siege of Auxaunce!” she spluttered. “They’re dead. All of them. Not one was ransomed. They killed them all in cold blood. They even killed the boy—Drew Argentine. He was little more than a child and the king’s . . . own . . . nephew.” The look of disgust on her face, the twitch of her lips, showed that her horror was real. Then her voice choked. “My husband too. They’re all dead.”
Ransom was aghast at the news. It couldn’t be true. No king would kill prisoners, who might be ransomed for money, in cold blood. Fear and confusion tore inside him.
“How do you know this?”
Her pretty eyebrows softened. “The Wizr board. Their pieces—the important ones—disappeared one by one, starting with Constance’s son. The king went to Dundrennan before it happened. He was there. And then . . . the boy’s piece disappeared. The others were snatched from the board soon afterward.” She took a step toward him but caught herself. “Our own spies confirmed that none survived. Those knights surrendered because they believed they’d be hostages for a price. All of them would have rather been butchered at Auxaunce in battle than to be treated so shamefully by an anointed king.” She nearly spat the last word.
Ransom’s heart went cold as ice at her words. His sons were at the palace. Had the king murdered them as well? If Jon-Landon had done as she said, then he was capable of anything.
He had no way of knowing whether Alix was speaking the truth, but he could ask his sister in Dundrennan. She wouldn’t lie to him.
Alix’s expression was full of vengeance. “I wanted you to know that you serve a murderer, so that when I kill your king and his two children and it unleashes a flood of death on your kingdom, you will know why.” She glared at him with ferocity. “The game will finally end. Jon-Landon will be the last Argentine.”
It did not take long. As soon as Ransom was gone, the nobles of Legault began to choose sides. Too many, unfortunately, are brainless badgers who sniff after power, blindly following any changes in the wind. Faulkes and his devils went after Lord Toole first and burned down his manor in Atha Kleah, which caused a sort of riot of glee from the malcontents. I’ve heard Toole escaped and fled back to his estate in Elkenny, but it’s a grim beginning. Faulkes wields the authority of the king with impunity. He is here to subjugate Legault.
I will not be subjugated.
—Claire de Murrow, Queen of the Fair Isle
A time of treason
CHAPTER ELEVEN
To Tame a Bear
With that pronouncement on her lips, Ransom lunged for Alix, trying to grab her before she could flee into the fountain. If he could capture Estian’s poisoner, it might save the life of the king’s son, whom the Fountain had entrusted him to protect.
Alix was quicker. She’d always been quicker. As he reached to grab her arm, she pressed her hand against the edge of the fountain and quickly launched into it. He heard her whisper a word, something that he couldn’t make out, and then she was gone, vanished as if the bottom of the fountain had disappeared and she’d plummeted down a well shaft into oblivion. He smelled lilac for an instant, and then it was replaced by the scent of wet stone.
Simon rushed around to the other side of the fountain, a dagger drawn and a ferocious look on his face. “I’ve never seen her trick before. I thought we’d be able to snatch her before she left.”
Ransom bowed his head in frustration. “She can use the fountains as portals somehow, traveling from one to another. She could be back at Pree right now. Or in Kingfountain.” He struck his fist against the edge of the railing.
“There is no mention of this in any of the histories. None that I’ve read,” Simon confessed.
“Nor I,” he answered, but an image surfaced in his mind of the book Claire had gotten from Lord Dougal’s collection, the dangerous tome called The Hidden Vulgate. Constance had warned him it had uncanny powers, steeped in darkness. He screwed up his face in disgust.
Simon, correctly interpreting his expression, asked, “Do you believe what she said about the hostages?”
“I do. Why lie when it would be easily refuted?”
“True. But why would she tell you what she was going to do?” Simon asked. “Was she boasting?”
The other knights came to the edge of the alcove, but Ransom waved them back with a shake of his head.
“No, I don’t think so.” He thought for a moment before a realization struck him. “I think she was trying to provoke me.”
Simon gave him a questioning look.
Ransom sighed and sheathed the dagger. “I need to go to Kingfountain immediately. The fastest way is by ship. Walk with me.”
The two left the alcove together, and as they passed the sentries, Simon pointed at two of them. “I want that fountain guarded at all times. Have guards stationed at the others, and increase patrols on this side of the castle.”
It might not be enough. Claire had once seen Alix disappear into thin air in Legault. The poisoner had uncanny powers. But there was no way of preparing for the incursion of someone who could appear and disappear at will, so he had no choice but to rely on what he knew—that she usually did travel to and from the fountains. The other ability, if she did indeed possess it, seemed to have limitations. If not, she would have dispatched the king and his heirs long ago.
Once they were clear of the men, Simon asked, “What did you mean about it being a provocation?”
“Estian has tried to win me to his side for years,” Ransom said as they hurried through the corridors. “I’m wondering if she told me about the murders because she wants me to kill Jon-Landon.”
There was a part of Ransom prone to violence, to savagery. His training as a knight had taught him to harness that side, something that required a great amount of self-discipline. He wondered where he’d be if he hadn’t trained under Lord Kinghorn, who had been a man of principles and keen judgment.