“And what do you know about power?” Bodkin said with derision.
The king’s eyes were fixed on Ransom, like a starving man offered a feast.
“Make peace with your nobles,” Ransom said. “If we stand together, we will prevail. Send me to Kingfountain. I will speak to Kiskaddon on your behalf. Let me see if I can persuade him to reconsider his actions. Your father once sent me to Auxaunce to make peace with Bennett. I didn’t succeed then, but I’m more experienced now. I think I could persuade him.”
“How?” the queen asked, her voice tremulous. “What he’s done is worthy of execution. He knows it. They all do.”
He turned his gaze on the queen. “What happened to your father after he attempted to kidnap Queen Emiloh? Was he put to death?”
Léa’s mouth turned down. “No.”
“We were both there, my lady,” Ransom reminded her. “The king, as angry as he was at your father’s actions, forgave him. One of the Elder King’s most loyal men, Lord Rakestraw, was killed in that conflict. I watched him and his knights get slaughtered. But the Elder King still forgave the insult because his goal was to make his kingdom more stable, not less. If he had persecuted Lord DeVaux, he would have made himself vulnerable to attack from others. Which is exactly what’s happening now.”
Jon-Landon nodded with interest, the story working a spell on his mind. “So I must pardon Kiskaddon?”
“And Lord James. All of them. Give them a reason to hope, my lord.”
“Your Majesty,” Bodkin interrupted, “if you pardon them now, you will lose face. No one will respect your authority after this. You’ll be seen as a puppet king, weak and ineffectual.”
“It is not weakness; it is wisdom,” Lady Deborah said, coming forward. “You were too harsh with Lord Ransom. You flexed your royal power, and you frightened the lords. Your father didn’t persecute his nobles. He rewarded them.”
“Yet still he lost,” said Bodkin.
“He lost because he wouldn’t share enough of the power he hoarded,” Ransom said to the Espion. “He didn’t trust it in anyone else’s hands.” He looked back at the king. “Not even his own sons. My lord, think of the consequences should you do the same.”
“I’ve tried, Ransom. Truly, I have,” said the king. “I don’t think Kiskaddon would forgive me. And James . . . what he . . .” He paused, wrestling with his emotions. “I cannot undo what’s been done. We cannot go back and change the past.”
“Nor should you,” said Bodkin angrily.
“You’re wrong,” Ransom said. “Regret encourages us to try and do better. I’ve made my own blunders. Just like the king has stumbled, in heeding your advice. My lord, if you trust this man, your kingdom will end. It will perish like ancient Leoneyis.”
Bodkin snorted. “You actually believe that myth, Lord Ransom? A child’s tale.”
“No, it’s the truth,” Ransom said. “I was just at the sanctuary of Our Lady at St. Penryn. The deconeus knows the tale. It is a warning to all of us.” He looked at the king imploringly. “You’ve seen the Wizr board yourself. We stand at the brink of losing the game, my lord. Step back from it. If we lose, we lose everything.”
Jon-Landon glanced at his wife, who nodded to him.
“Lady Deborah, do you believe Lord Ransom?” he asked.
“I do, my lord. I cannot save your kingdom. But he can. He is the only one they would trust.”
Bodkin clenched his fist. “This is—”
“Enough!” Jon-Landon snapped. He gave Bodkin a withering look. “I’m here because of you. Everything that has gone wrong is because I listened to you. I will listen to Lord Ransom now.” He turned to Ransom with a determined expression. “Go to Kingfountain. If you can persuade Kiskaddon, do what you must. I will pardon him. I swear it on the soul of my father.”
The queen gripped Jon-Landon’s arm. “What if he . . . what if he demands a hostage?”
The king’s countenance fell.
“I won’t allow it,” Ransom said. “I’ll find another way.”
The king sighed in relief. “Go, Ransom. You are my only friend. You have my authority and my commission. Save us!”
Fate is now on our side. Ransom has spoken to the king, and he will journey next to Kingfountain to try to talk Lord Kiskaddon around. I know this from a note, written by Ransom and delivered by the king’s own courier. I don’t know how Ransom will be able to set this to rights, but he will try. Having so many enemies now, Jon-Landon must be grateful to have one ally, even if it’s the man he persecuted most.
I’m nervous about what will happen. I have to go to Atha Kleah to hear petitions for justice. One complicated case is that of Lord Faulkes’s wife, Lady Orla, the heiress of Lord Tenthor’s estate. Some nobles, who want a chance to win her inheritance, are arguing to invalidate the marriage since it happened under duress. Faulkes isn’t here to defend his cause, but he sent his first knight to argue on his behalf. Turns out he actually loves the lass, poor sot.
The decision could impact the tenuous peace with Jon-Landon, for Faulkes is a favorite. Or has that changed? It matters not. I will listen to Lady Orla, and if she feels her rights to choose were denied, I will dissolve the marriage. Justice is not justice if it is only convenient.
—Claire de Murrow
Connaught
(preparing to journey to Atha Kleah)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Castles of Sand
After leaving the king and queen’s presence, Ransom instructed his knights to prepare for departure to Kingfountain, then made his way to the familiar stone steps he’d once climbed with James. The king had told him the boys were playing on the beach, and he wished to see them before he went on his way.
The day was bright and full of sunlight, although errant clouds bloomed in the sky to the east. As Ransom walked down the steps, he saw his boys parrying and lunging with sticks instead of swords. Dawson was with them, showing the boys some techniques on how to hold the sticks, how to defend. Although Ransom couldn’t hear his voice, he recognized the effort he was taking and appreciated it. He spied Cecily sitting in the firm, wet sand with Princess Léanore, using sticks to carve little trenches. Léanore’s hands were sculpting the wet sand into mounds as if she were building a castle, and she had placed an assortment of shells and even a colorful starfish gathered around them. They were near enough the boys to witness the dueling.
Ransom’s heart thrummed with gratitude that the boys seemed hale and appeared to be having a good time. He trudged forward into the sand, feeling a weariness in his shoulders from the quick journey from St. Penryn. It would be another two days’ ride to the palace. So much of his life had been spent racing from one end of the kingdom to the other.
As he neared the noise of the clashing sticks, Willem saw him first. He threw down his stick and yelled in surprise and started to race toward him. Devon whirled around, recognized Ransom, and came charging after them, fake sword still in hand. Ransom dropped to a knee, feeling a little stab of discomfort as he did so, and waited for his sons to reach him.