“Because my grandfather the duke is an eejit,” said the princess. Ransom tried not to smirk and failed. His sons’ choice of words had clearly influenced the girl’s language. “If Papa dies, Grandfather will swear loyalty to the Occitanians, I think.”
It was a cynical statement for such a young girl. However, Ransom didn’t think she was off the mark.
“Can we speak privately?” Ransom asked Cecily.
“Hurry back and keep digging,” Léanore said firmly and with a tone of disapproval.
“As you wish, my lady,” Cecily said. She brushed off her hands, and Ransom reached down to help her rise. They walked closer to the surf, which was creeping up again. The foamy bubbles on the shore popped, and little brown crabs scurried up after the water receded.
“Bodkin is falling out of favor, I think,” Ransom told her.
“He’s the king’s darkest self,” Cecily said, her voice dropping lower. “He’s the one who advised him to murder the hostages. I wish the king would exile him, but I don’t think he dares. He knows too many secrets. Secrets Jon-Landon wouldn’t want shared.”
“How about a dungeon, then?” Ransom suggested wryly.
She smiled at him. “I’d support it.” Then her smile faded. “If you don’t conjure a miracle, Ransom, Jon-Landon’s reign will end. No one will support Prince Devon as the new king. And if that happens, the flood comes, correct?”
“I will support him,” Ransom said firmly.
She gave him a sad smile. “No one but you.” She folded her arms and gazed out at the sea. “I think there’s a chance the Argentine dynasty will fail. We must all be prepared to flee if it does. There was hope when Benedict was king, but the Occitanians poisoned him, and I fear the same will happen to Jon-Landon. We can’t hope to protect him here as we would at the palace.” She sighed. “The king wants to send me to Pisan.” She glanced at him. “I’m afraid it will all be over before I could return.”
“Do you want to go?” he asked.
“Yes, actually,” she said. “I think I would be good at it. But I am afraid. If I went there, I would be a target of Lady Alix. That would frighten anyone.”
“Anyone with sense,” Ransom said. “If the king stays anywhere for too long, it gives her an opportunity to strike. The fountains here at Averanche are being guarded? The poisoner promised to come after his children too.”
“Of course,” she said. “The king is paranoid about being poisoned. He should be. We have guards night and day.”
“Good, because I’m not entirely sure her ability to travel is linked to the fountains. Claire once saw her disappear on land.”
Cecily’s eyes widened. “Lady, let us hope not. If Alix could do that, though, I suspect none of us would still be alive.”
He expected she was right. It was the only thing that offered him any comfort.
“You know, the king has tried to win over Sir Dawson. Offered to make him captain of his guard. Did he tell you?”
“The king himself told me,” Ransom said. “Dawson refused.”
“I respect him more for it.” She inclined her head toward Ransom, studying him. “When the two of you were talking over there, were you talking about me?”
Ransom smiled and shrugged. “What gave you that idea?”
Cecily arched her brows as if Ransom were being foolish. “He’s a good man, Ransom. You’ve done well by him. But I have ambitions of my own. I wouldn’t be content sitting in a castle and working on embroidery while he was off having adventures.”
Ransom shrugged. “I don’t imagine you would be.”
She sighed. “So you’re not going to tell me?”
“I would never betray his trust,” Ransom said. “Ask him yourself.”
“Maybe I will. I like to see him flustered.”
“Cecily!” complained the princess. “The water is almost at the edge! Hurry!”
Ransom gave her a sidelong look. “You’re digging a trench that you know will get washed out within the hour?”
She arched her eyebrows again. “She didn’t believe me. What better way to teach her than to let her watch it happen herself?”
He gave her an approving nod. “Very wise.”
A grin, a genuine one, lifted her lips. “Thank you, my lord. Good luck on your mission to Kingfountain. You will need it.”
He turned his gaze to his sons, who were racing back from the run Dawson had assigned them. By the footprints, he saw they’d run to a boulder speckled with guano and then back. They were racing hard, and Devon was slightly ahead. Willem’s face was contorted with the grimace of one who might lose. It spurred him on harder.
“Run, Willem! Run!” Léanore shrieked.
And that incentive was all Willem needed to put in a final burst of speed and reach Dawson first. Both boys dropped to their knees, gasping for breath.
How would their lives play out, Ransom wondered. Whom would they marry, and what sort of men would they become?
A shadow passed over his heart. He had the dark suspicion that he wouldn’t live to see it.
When I returned to Atha Kleah, I was surprised to find Lord Toole had come. We hadn’t spoken since he abandoned us in our hour of need. He sought forgiveness, not his former position. He said he was wrong for losing confidence in our rule.
There has been a rift between us, but I thought of what Ransom would do. What he’s done. Some rulers would have left the aging man on his knees and humiliated him in front of the onlookers. But I went to him and raised him up. I told him all was forgiven and asked him to take a seat, once more, in my council. The look on his face, I will never forget it. Nor will I forget how it felt to be merciful.
Lady Orla addressed the council. She is with child, which we didn’t know, for she has concealed that fact from everyone including her husband. That complicates the situation. I asked her if she was forced into marriage. She said that she was. It is against Gaultic law, and so, accordingly, the marriage can be made void. It is a difficult situation, as I feared it would be. The right is on her side. But if I champion her right to void the marriage, it could destroy the peace.
I told her to give it thought for three days. I will support whatever she chooses. She had no choice going in. But by the Aos Sí, she’ll have it going out.
—Claire de Murrow
Atha Kleah
(justice)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
A Game of Wizr
As Ransom and his knights made the fateful journey to Kingfountain, he gazed at the well-worn road and thought about facing Lord Kiskaddon. What would he say? How would he convince him to stand down?
The rebellion might not have started out as planned, with the king’s capture, but the results could not be denied. The problem was that there was no heir in Kiskaddon’s pocket, no alternate king who possessed Argentine blood. And if the Argentine line failed, the Wizr game would end. The price they would have to pay, Ransom feared, would be in blood.
It was still late summer, but there was no heat to scorch them. The breeze on Ransom’s face felt mild, a warning of an early autumn perhaps? After their journey, they reached the edge of the city and found the gates barred. There had been a few wagons heading that way, but they’d not been allowed in either, and merchants were lingering outside. Many of them regarded Ransom and his men with angry stares as they passed.