“I’d forgotten how ticklish your beard was,” she said with a sigh and lowered herself onto the pillow. “Can we forget our troubles for a little while, Ransom? Can I make you forget them?”
He liked the sound of that. “I love you too much, Claire,” he said, kissing her neck again. “Is breá liom an iomarca duit.”
“Tell me again. And again . . . and again . . .” she whispered, grasping his tunic.
Several days passed in a surprisingly restful manner. Ransom played with his daughters, taking them for rides on Dappled through the meadows and woods beneath the castle hill. He went hunting again with Claire, and they spent a night in the lodge in the woods. She offered to take him to the barrow mounds, but he remembered the way the magic had afflicted him on his last visit and declined.
They waited for news to come from Ceredigion. And when it did not, he wondered if something had interrupted the insurrection. Life had a way of interrupting well-laid plans, something he’d seen often enough in the service of four Argentine kings.
But that stretch of quiet was shattered on the fifth day, when a message came from the king, who had fled Kingfountain and had transferred his court to his fortress at Averanche. The message was delivered by an Espion named Branson Chase, a tall fellow with a bushy black beard and the physique of a knight.
“What does the message say?” Claire demanded. They had brought the Espion messenger up to the solar for privacy, and Ransom had only just finished reading the missive. He handed it to her, and she read it swiftly before lowering the page.
“Kingfountain is lost?”
“Aye, my lady,” Branson said. “The king and his family had time to flee with half of the palace guard. The message Lord Ransom sent arrived before the plot could take effect. The king is grateful for your warning.”
“Did they flee by horse or ship?” Ransom asked.
“By ship in the dead of night,” Branson said. “Some of the knights rode as decoys. They were attacked on the bridge outside the sanctuary of Our Lady. Blood was shed that night, and the knights fought to the last man. No quarter was given or offered. Kiskaddon controls Kingfountain now.”
Ransom gave Claire a worried look. “Averanche isn’t the most protected castle. He’ll be vulnerable there to Alix and Estian.”
“The king knows. He’s going to ride to Beestone, where much of his treasury is kept. The queen will stay at Averanche with their children. And your sons. They escaped by ship as well.”
“And Sir Dawson?” Ransom asked.
“Sir Dawson is protecting them and the queen. He’s a good knight. You’ve trained him well.”
“I don’t feel Averanche is safe,” Claire said, setting down the note. “It’s vulnerable by sea.”
“The king’s fleet is being rallied as well,” said Branson. “And Lord Faulkes is securing mercenaries.”
“From where? Not Brugia,” Ransom said.
“No, my lord. Genevar. That’s another reason he went to Averanche. An army from the North is coming down toward Blackpool. Kiskaddon attacks from the east. It won’t be long before the Black King of Occitania meddles as well.”
“You should sail for Glosstyr,” Claire told Ransom. “You still have a garrison there. You could form a wall and stop that Northern army from coming down.”
Ransom didn’t want to fight James, but he felt that the sooner he confronted him, the more bloodshed could be avoided. He gave the Espion a weighing look. “Would the king accept my help?”
The man grinned at him through his beard. “He’d be most grateful, my lord. I was sent to give you the information and see if you were willing to help. After all the king has done to you, he wasn’t certain.”
“If we continue to fight amongst ourselves,” Ransom answered, “we make our kingdom even more vulnerable to our enemies. I don’t want to fight a war. I want to try and stop one.”
Branson looked skeptical. “Kiskaddon won’t relent. He’s risked his fate on defeating the king.”
“And I’ll risk mine on helping him keep his crown,” Ransom answered. “I’ll go to Glosstyr straightaway. Have the king send word on where he’d like to meet me.”
Chase breathed a sigh of relief. “My lord, he’ll be most pleased to hear this news.”
“Then hurry and tell him,” Ransom said. The Espion nodded and left the solar to return to his ship.
Claire picked up the letter and crushed it in her fist. “I hope he realizes he doesn’t deserve your loyalty.”
Ransom approached her, taking her shoulders in his hands. He kissed the top of her head. “I don’t want to fight other knights of Ceredigion. Each man we lose weakens us all the more.”
She looked up at his face. “You may not have a choice. You’re facing two duchies with only one. Not to mention all the other lords who have defected, according to the king’s letter. He has Faulkes, you, and mercenaries if they can arrive in time. They will be using their full strength. Be careful.”
“I’m going to try and argue for clemency,” Ransom said. “If it comes to a pitched battle, we could lose.”
“You? Lose?” Claire asked with a mischievous smile. “Not my husband.”
“If there is a battle, we lose no matter who wins,” Ransom said. “Every person we lose is a kinsman.”
“Maybe you could offer to go to King Gotz and sue for peace,” she suggested. “Jon-Landon refused to send you before out of pettiness. You can make an alliance or at least prevent Gotz from joining Estian.”
“It’s a good suggestion, but until we find a way to stop fighting amongst ourselves, an alliance won’t last. I need to persuade Hal to back down.”
Claire pursed her lips. “How do you plan on achieving that? He was loyal to Benedict, and he’s plotted to murder Jon-Landon.”
“His back was to the wall,” Ransom said. “I’m going to ask Jon-Landon to pardon him and James.”
Claire studied him with a look of disbelief. “Be serious, Ransom.”
“I am. And I’m going to try and get Lady Deborah on my side. If we cannot make the king see reason, then none of this matters. If he’s determined to fight to the end, well . . . the end will come much sooner than he thinks, and he’ll lose the crown. If that happens, he’ll deserve it.”
Claire looked at him seriously. “Then who would be king? The boy?”
Ransom met her gaze. “Yes.” The Fountain had told him as much, although it had not given him enough information to know when Devon was to become king.
“A child king,” Claire said thoughtfully. “What if Kiskaddon balks? What if he won’t swear fealty? He could try to claim the throne himself.”
Ransom shrugged. “I don’t want to fight him. But I will if I must.”
She threw down the paper and took his hand, leaning her forehead against his chest. “This feels worse than what we went through with the Elder King. Or even with Benedict when he was away at war. I don’t trust Jon-Landon, and neither should you. Promise me you won’t be foolish.”
He squeezed her hands. “I will do my best. And I’ll try to bring our sons home with me.”