“I’ve never known such a short-sighted man,” he fumed.
“I take it the council didn’t go so well, Hal.”
“He’s so fixed on his conquest that he cannot see the damage he’s doing. We’re being attacked on all fronts by our enemies, but he’s still determined to cut off his own right arm! I told him to end this fruitless attack on Legault and restore you to your rightful station. He exploded and began ranting like a madman. You’ve done nothing to discredit yourself, Ransom. There is no reason for his spite.”
“I’m grateful you spoke up for me, but I can see it didn’t do any good.”
“No, it only made things worse,” Kiskaddon said. He looked back at the doors to the great hall and scowled. “He’ll probably come after me next.”
Ransom sympathized with Lord Kiskaddon, but he suspected he was right. “What have the Brugians been up to? I only hear a little bit now and then.”
Kiskaddon shook his head. “We never know when or where they’re going to strike because all of our ships are anchored off the coast of Legault. The king seems to think the war he’s waging against your lands will soon be over. He won’t draw them off until it is. I’m sorry, Ransom.” The duke clapped him on the shoulder. “I’d better go while I still can. He’s bled us dry paying scutage, and now he expects us to fight anyway, while he keeps the money. Bennett would never have acted this way.”
Ransom gave him the knightly salute. The other knight returned it and marched down the corridor.
With nothing else to occupy himself, Ransom continued his walk, and some hours later he was approached by the queen’s steward, Master Dyson.
“Ah, there you are. The queen would like to speak to you. Would you come with me, please?”
“Of course,” Ransom answered, surprised by the summons. During his confinement, she’d never asked to speak with him privately before. He’d seen more of her daughter than he had of the queen herself.
The steward took him to the solar, where he found Queen Léa sitting on a couch with the prince, whose eyes were puffy from crying. She wore a simple coronet in her braided hair, several rings on her fingers, and a jeweled necklace set with a flashing emerald.
“Thank you, Dyson,” she said, then flicked her fingers at the steward to dismiss him.
The prince sniffled, and Léa stroked his back.
Ransom bowed to her. “What do you need, my lady?” he asked.
“I don’t need anything, Lord Ransom. I’m a queen. Some news came today. I thought you’d want to know.”
His stomach filled with dread. “Yes, my lady?”
“The queen dowager . . . is dead. Her health has been failing of late. Poor Devon didn’t know her all that well, but he was really saddened by the news.” She rubbed her son’s neck. “She was someone special to you, I believe. The one who ransomed you all those years ago.”
Grief struck Ransom like a lance to his heart. His first reaction was disbelief, but then a feeling of numbness sapped away his surprise. Had her sickness been natural, or was it contrived? Had Alix poisoned her own mother out of spite and revenge?
“I’m sorry to hear it,” Ransom said, keeping his voice steady.
Léa gave him a probing look. “I haven’t told my husband yet. How do you think he will take it?”
It shocked him that she’d told him first. How had she learned the news before her husband? Perhaps the message had been delivered to her first deliberately, because the bearer feared how the mercurial king would react.
“They were never that close,” Ransom said. “It’s difficult to say.” The numbness was awful. He wanted to mourn, but he dared not show emotion in front of Jon-Landon’s petty queen.
“I wanted your advice,” she said. “Whether you believe it or not, you know Jon-Landon better than most people. He still respects you.”
“He has an interesting way of showing it,” Ransom mused.
She smiled. “He admires strong people. His father was strong, in his eyes. So were his older brothers. And his mother. He was young when his parents’ marriage fell apart. Emiloh was shut into the tower, not allowed to see him, and he still feels the lack of having a mother. I think this news will be terrible for him. And because it will be, he won’t want to attend her funeral rites. He doesn’t like doing things that make him feel uncomfortable.”
“It would be dangerous for him to travel to the Vexin right now. Estian would see him coming.”
“Yes, indeed,” the queen said. “That Wizr board. Maybe it’s a trap. I was thinking that we should bring her body to the sanctuary at Fountainvault. That is where the Elder King was sent to the Deep Fathoms. Benedict too. And it’s much closer. What do you think, Ransom?”
“I’m surprised you’re asking me.”
“You shouldn’t be. I want you to go with him.”
“Me?”
Léa nodded. “If Estian saw your piece and the king’s piece moving together, I don’t think he’d be as quick to attack. And you’d get to pay your respects as well.”
The prince lifted his head and looked into his mother’s eyes. “Can I go too, Maman?”
She ran her fingers through his hair. “I don’t think so, Dev. It would not be wise for you and your father to leave Kingfountain at the same time.”
He pouted. “Would you let Léanore go?”
“No, Dev. This is something for Papa to do alone.” She looked up at Ransom next. “Would you go, Ransom? If I asked you to?”
“I would. Thank you for telling me.”
“Let me see how Jon-Landon takes the news. That is all.” She flicked her fingers at him in dismissal.
Before the week had ended, Ransom found himself on a horse riding toward Westmarch with the king. Being freed from the castle was a relief to Ransom, but he still felt like he was a prisoner. He was allowed to wear a chain hauberk beneath his armor but not to carry a sword, and his scabbard had not been restored to him. It made him feel defenseless, hamstrung, and he wondered why he had even been brought if he wasn’t allowed to act the part of defender. Still, he wished to pay respects to Emiloh, and he rode without complaint. They traveled with a group of two hundred men toward Beestone castle, where they’d rest, change mounts, and continue to Fountainvault, on the borders of Westmarch. Arrangements had already been made to bring the queen’s corpse from Auxaunce.
It came as no surprise at all that Jon-Landon named his father-in-law, Lord DeVaux, as the Duke of Vexin. The old man had finally gotten what he wanted.
The king said hardly a word to anyone. Judging by his expression, Jon-Landon grieved his mother’s death. There was a tightness about his eyes, a permanent scowl on his mouth, and a look of low spirits that plagued his soul. For all the man’s faults, Ransom pitied him. The king had never fully reconciled with his mother, and now she was gone.
The scouts had gone ahead to make sure all was in preparation. The Occitanian forces were securing the construction of a new fortress where Tatton Grange had been, and a writ of safe conduct had been granted by Estian for Jon-Landon to see to the funeral rites for his mother. The writ lasted from sunrise to sunset on the day they would arrive.