“Maybe it is beyond the point of repair, but if we do nothing, we die by suicide. You think Kiskaddon believes he’ll get better terms from Estian?”
“I’m convinced of it. Though you know, as I do, that Estian will promise silver and deliver dross.” She shrugged. “But at least he hasn’t betrayed his own nobles.”
“Then help me persuade the king that it serves his own interests to be forgiving. That he caused this contention, and he will lose everything, including his life, if he persists in alienating those who serve him.”
“He will bristle if you put it like that.”
“I’m a plain-speaking man and always have been. If he cannot stomach the truth, then he’ll continue to sicken on his own pride. Can I count on you to help me talk sense into him?”
“Of course, Ransom. That’s why I’m here as well. I think . . . it’s possible even the queen will support you. She’s young, but she’s not as naive as she seems. She asked me, privately, if I knew that Jon-Landon had ordered the deaths of all of the hostages. I still don’t know who told her. I’ve tried to enlist her help, but she is too worried about hurting Jon-Landon’s feelings. Your arrival could alter things. No. It will alter them.”
“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll do my best.”
They reached the great hall, where Ransom found the king pacing nervously, his hands clasped behind his back. He wore a short sword and a dagger, and Ransom saw the glint of a hauberk beneath his elegant tunic and a chain hood pulled down around his neck. When he saw Ransom, he swallowed and offered a strained smile, the look of a man besieged on all sides and struggling to hope.
Ransom approached Jon-Landon and dropped to one knee before him. “My lord, thank you for granting me an audience.”
“Rise, Ransom—rise!” He took Ransom’s hands and squeezed them. “It is good to see you again!”
The show of affection, which seemed genuine, shocked him.
“Come to the solar. Léa is there. Your sons are here with Sir Dawson—a very capable knight. I asked if he’d be captain of my guard, and he refused me outright, saying his loyalty was to you. Should I be jealous?” he added with a chuckle, but he wasn’t being vicious.
“I should like to see my sons, but let’s talk first. In the solar if you prefer.”
“I do. Come.” He put his hand on Ransom’s shoulder as they walked. “You as well, Deborah. You know I value your counsel.” He lowered his voice a little. “I’m sorry about the storm that caught you at sea, but it hastened our meeting. I’m grateful for that. I’ve always known I could count on you. You said as much, before I sent you back to Legault. How is Claire?”
“Worried, no doubt,” Ransom answered. The transformation in Jon-Landon’s mood was startling. But his easy manner and grace, compared to the way he’d always received Ransom in the past, were grating. He could practically hear Claire telling him that Jon-Landon was only acting pleasant because he needed Ransom. “Things are calmer now in Legault.”
“She’s a canny woman. I’ve always admired her. You chose well. No, actually, I believe she chose you. Clever lass. I don’t think she and I would have mixed very well. I’m quite happy with Léa. Do you remember when you found us, walking hand in hand, along these very shores?”
“I do, my lord.”
After leaving the great hall and climbing the stairs, they reached the solar. The space was familiar, yet it had changed quite a bit from when Lord Kinghorn had lived there. There were more decorations, fewer books. The window was open, letting in the sound of the surf crashing outside. The queen was playing a game of Wizr with her son, who smiled at the sight of Ransom. His little hand lifted in a wave. The princess wasn’t there. A tall, gaunt man with long hair and bloodshot eyes stood in the corner. Ransom recognized him as the head of the Espion. Bodkin had the look of a murderer.
The queen rose from her chair and inclined her head to Ransom. She wore her jewelry—a decorative crown, necklace, and rings on most of her fingers. She looked too young to have had two children already. For a long moment, she just stared at him without speaking, giving him a curious look, as if she were weighing him in her mind.
“You did come,” she finally said.
Lady Deborah shut the door behind her and went to the brazier to warm her hands.
Jon-Landon kissed his wife on her forehead, actually on the band of the crown, and turned, grinning with eagerness. “I must say, Ransom, you’ve come at a desperate hour.”
“So it seems,” he replied. “What is the state of things?”
The king turned to the Espion. “Bodkin—you tell him.”
The Espion leader straightened, his narrow shoulders drooping. “At your command, my liege.” His voice had a nasal inflection and was slightly high pitched. “Where to start? Southport has been taken. Some of the people fled, some stayed and begged for their lives. I wonder how long the Duke of Garrone will suffer them to live? That gives him a stronghold within striking distance of Kingfountain. Which . . . as you probably already know . . . is being held by the blackguard Lord Kiskaddon.” His eyes narrowed, and his lips twisted into a sneer as he said the name. “Atabyrion is attacking North Cumbria from the east and Lord Faulkes from the south. Wigant is caught between them. Won’t end well for your brother-in-law.”
“Bodkin, hurry up,” Jon-Landon said.
“East Stowe has been harassed by Brugian ships, but Kiskaddon hasn’t suffered them to take it. There’s not much he can do, with the riots happening in Kingfountain. The people resent Kiskaddon’s treason. He dares not cross the bridge for fear of being thrown off the falls. I would that he drowned. But it would make the city vulnerable if the Occitanians were to press north. I advised His Majesty to send one of the Espion, I think you know her, back to Kingfountain to end Kiskaddon’s treachery discreetly. He might choke on a pie, you know. That would end the worst of our problems.” He flashed Ransom a ruthless smile.
“I was intending to send her to Pisan,” Jon-Landon said. “They won’t reveal any of their secrets unless we train someone. You know of whom we speak, Ransom. The girl Cecily. I was on the verge of sending her, then I learned that Kiskaddon intended to murder me.” His face twisted with resentment. Ransom regarded the Espion master coldly, thinking about the many, many deaths this man had orchestrated. So many hostages killed without honor, without mercy. He caught a glimpse of the queen and realized her eyes were large with worry and fear, her nostrils flared. She clearly didn’t like Bodkin very much either.
Ransom sighed. “My lord, the situation is bleak indeed.”
“I know,” the king said with desperation. “I had everything in my hands, and now it’s all slipping through my fingers like sand.” He clenched his hand into a fist and shook it. “The harder I clutch, the faster it spills.”
“Power is like sand, my lord,” Ransom said. He held his own hand out in a cupping shape. “If you hold it like this, then less of it spills.”
Bodkin snorted, and Ransom repressed the urge to punch him on the jaw. Ignoring the Espion, Ransom regarded the king. “My lord, your advisors have misled you. Authority doesn’t come from the hollow crown. Nor does it come from forcing others to do your will. I’ve watched your family struggle with power for years. Power must be coaxed. Respect must be earned. I don’t think it is too late.”