Faulkes was blind to our intrigues. His army came like a mighty, lazy bear, so confident in its muscle and claws that it plopped down in the meadow at the foot of Connaught and proceeded to nap. Foragers were sent into the woods to start cutting down trees for firewood. Our archers abducted them in small groups. We watched them build their camp, and we paraded the same men back and forth along the walls of Connaught to make it look as if our entire force were encamped within. We had servants clanging pans and blacksmiths denting bits of iron to add to the noise.
At nightfall, Dearley launched his attack from the woods. The bear was roused from its slumber, but it was too disoriented to know where to strike. Nor did he know the land as we do. He attacked and retreated and then attacked again. Baldwin’s youths struck from the rear, confusing the bear even more.
By morning, Faulkes found that his mercenaries had abandoned him and half of his Gaultic henchmen had fled in the night. Seeing the disarray, I ordered Dawson to charge down from the castle with the remaining defenders, and he did so, riding Dappled and shouting the battle cry Dex aie! It felt as if Ransom had returned. The weary soldiers from the marshes and the woods rallied once more and surrounded Faulkes’s men, who surrendered and begged for quarter. Though they would have given us none had the situation been reversed, we granted it, for we are made of better stuff than they. Faulkes was brought to the castle under guard and unceremoniously chained in the dungeon along with his captains.
Dawson led a counter force of knights to chase after the mercenaries and routed them before they could reach Atha Kleah. Then he marched his prisoners to Atha Kleah and retook the fortress. They were met by a rejoicing mob, as our people had already grown resentful of Faulkes’s broken oaths. Simon sustained some injuries in the battle, but he’s hale. Dearley, I’m so proud of John Dearley. His victory increased his stature today. He’s a new man. I’ve never seen Elodie more honored.
I’m now in Atha Kleah, ready to mete our rewards and punishments to those who have earned them. I’ve sent a missive to Jon-Landon to negotiate terms. Now that we’re no longer cut off, I’ve learned the king is facing threats on all sides. He cannot send more knights to subdue us. On the contrary, if he releases Ransom, he can gain the help he desperately needs.
I await his response.
—Claire de Murrow, Queen Once More
Atha Kleah
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
A Key in a Well
Ransom was tormented by the deaths of his friends. When he remembered that Elodie was still with child, the grief nearly broke him. He’d always imagined Dearley would outlast him, that he’d help carry Ransom’s funeral boat. It should not be the other way around. Elodie’s despair would be limitless. He prayed to the Fountain her child would survive, to keep Dearley’s name more than just a memory.
Simon was dead as well. He’d been a trusted friend and confidant since they were both in service to Devon the Younger. What of old Captain Baldwin? Surely he had survived? The old captain was too stubborn to die.
On that hurried ride back to the palace, he managed to keep his composure. He pretended he was made of stone. But inside, he wrestled against a beast that demanded revenge on the last Argentine son. He knew those thoughts would lead to madness, to betrayal, and he fought them, but it seemed as if he battled a mythical beast that only grew stronger the more he lashed at it within his mind.
He worried he would lose his sanity. That he would do something unthinkable.
It didn’t help that the knights of the entourage kept giving him pitying looks. At least, that was how he interpreted them. He’d never liked being a spectacle, even back in his tournament days. Each glance made him long to leave more fervently, to go back to Legault so he might comfort the mourning and honor the dead.
The journey finally ended, and they reached the palace. Ransom went looking for his sons to relate the tragic news to them. At least he would be there to comfort them. He searched in the kitchen first, but the boys weren’t there. He made a circuit of the castle’s interior, stopping servants occasionally, before one finally revealed that she’d seen the boys from a window and thought they were still in the palace gardens. He asked which gardens, was told, and then hurried there, his mood black from the weight of his burdens.
He left the palace and started through the garden, passing the tree that he and Claire had once gotten stuck in. It caused a flash of hurt inside him, but his mind went blank when he heard a cry of pain.
“Let him go!” Willem shouted.
“I’ll make him go down into the well to fetch it, I will!” snarled a man’s voice, one he immediately recognized as the Espion Aldous. “Maybe you’ll drown. You little rake—owww!”
Princess Léanore screamed.
Blood pounded in Ransom’s ears as he ran toward the sound. He came around the corner and saw the scene unfold in a flash. The princess was running toward him, her eyes wet with tears. When she saw him, a look of relief dawned on her face. Aldous had Devon by the collar, and they were both by one of the garden wells. It didn’t lead to the cistern, for it was lower down the slope from the castle proper. Aldous was pressing his other hand, where there were some flaming-red teeth marks on his skin, to his mouth. Willem’s face was contorted in rage, and he was beating his small fists into Aldous’s back, but the blows were having no effect on the larger man.
“Lord Ransom!” Léanore gasped. “Help! Help!”
Aldous growled and shoved Willem in the face, knocking him down, and then continued to wrestle Devon to the edge of the well. Aldous’s stringy hair a mess, his long nose dripping, he used his greater power to bend the boy toward the mouth of the well.
Ransom sprinted the final steps. Aldous turned on hearing his approach, and then his eyes widened with shock at seeing the boys’ father coming at him.
Aldous immediately released Devon and backed away. “Hold there, Lord Ransom, let me expl—”
Ransom caught him by the front of his shirt and continued to push him backward to the nearest tree. Aldous collided with it, his eyes blinking with panic. His huge nostrils flared. Ransom brought his forearm into Aldous’s chin, easily overpowering the smaller man, but he sensed danger as the Espion drew a dagger and suddenly pressed the tip against his ribs.
“It’s not what you think,” Aldous said tightly, his breath coming in quick bursts.
Ransom thought of Drew Argentine’s death, and the beast inside his chest snarled to get out. With his free hand, he grabbed Aldous’s wrist and squeezed and twisted until pain bulged in the Espion’s eyes and he dropped the dagger onto the grass. Willem and Devon came to stand by their father, their eyes full of wrath at their tormentor.
Aldous grimaced. Fear shone in his eyes now that he had been disarmed. “Let me go, Lord Ransom. You don’t want this.”
He very much wanted to wring the Espion’s neck with his bare hands. “They’re children,” he chided huskily, so angry he was ready to kill.
Aldous didn’t seem to care. He didn’t look guilty, only fearful for his life. “Release me.”
“Or what?”
“There are other Espion nearby. I’ll call out to them. Someone might get hurt if Bodkin finds out.” His eyes flashed with animosity.