When they arrived, they were met by liveried servants displaying the Triple Lion. The men didn’t greet them as returning nobles. In fact, the servants’ eyes were downcast. After a moment, a man emerged from the castle doors and approached them. Ransom recognized him as Captain Faulkes, Jon-Landon’s battle commander.
“You came after all,” he said with a disapproving look. “The king is expecting you. Hurry along.”
Ransom dismounted first and then helped Emiloh off. She took his arm, her shoulders slumped with weariness.
“Has everyone else arrived?” Ransom asked Faulkes.
“Of course. They obeyed the king’s command with alacrity.” There, again, was the disapproving look. Had the captain’s attitude toward Jon-Landon transformed with the change in kingship? Ambition and opportunity could alter any man who was not wary of them. Ransom’s stomach tightened, but he controlled his expression and walked with Emiloh into the palace.
They were brought to the solar first, not the main hall. Jon-Landon was pacing, wearing a sumptuous new tunic fitted with gold thread and crimson ribbons, a jeweled necklace, and rings on his small hands. His wife, Léa, was sitting on a couch, holding her swollen belly. When they entered, a sly smile crossed her mouth.
“They’re here,” she said to her husband.
Jon-Landon turned abruptly. His cheeks were clean-shaven, but he had a small beard around his mouth. His hair, which had always been darker than his brothers’, glistened with oil.
“Greetings, Mother . . . Lord Ransom. I’m glad you both took the trouble to come for my coronation.”
“Your brother is laid to rest,” the queen dowager said. “The rites have been performed.”
“Praise the Lady,” drawled the king-to-be. He stroked the edges of his jaw with his thumb and forefinger. “I have a question to ask you both. I told Léa about that little stone Wizr set. The one where the pieces move on their own. It is an heirloom of King Andrew’s realm.” His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Where is it? I asked Simon, and he said that Benedict had it last. Then I dismissed him. He’s no longer the head of the Espion. Bodkin now holds that title. Someone I trust.”
Ransom nearly grimaced to hear his friend had so unceremoniously been stripped of his position, but he kept his expression calm.
“We don’t know where it is, Jon-Landon,” Emiloh said.
“You will address me as Your Highness, madam. You may have given birth to me, but I am your son no longer. As of this day, I am your king.” He said the words with sharpness.
Emiloh’s shoulders slumped even more. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. Forgive me.”
Jon-Landon nodded, mollified. “How can you not know where it is? Lord Ransom, do you know?”
“Your brother sent it with Sir Gordon to deliver it to me,” Ransom replied hesitantly. “He never arrived at Josselin. I’ve had knights searching the countryside for him and his escort, but he’s disappeared.”
“A likely story,” Jon-Landon growled.
“It’s true,” Ransom insisted. “I have no reason to lie to you, my lord. That Wizr board gave us an advantage—”
“Which we’ve now lost!” Jon-Landon shouted. He slammed his fist on a side table. “I want that board!”
“I don’t know where it is,” Ransom said calmly, though his patience was strained from holding his composure so long.
Jon-Landon shifted his gaze to Emiloh. “It belongs with the hollow crown. If you are keeping it from me, madam, I promise you that your confinement in the tower will be a pleasant memory compared to what I will do.”
“In all likelihood”—Ransom stepped forward, inserting himself into the conversation. He was physically larger than Jon-Landon, and he used his presence to cow the younger man—“it was stolen by Lady Alix, the Occitanian poisoner. She was at Tatton Grange when the crossbow was fired. Your brother told me that himself. She counted on Bennett sending it away, and she was rewarded. It’s probably back in Pree by now.”
Jon-Landon stared at Ransom but didn’t back down. There was a small flicker of fear in his eyes, but he kept it in check. “Are you loyal to me, Ransom Barton? Or would you rather have my nephew on the throne?”
“You are my liege lord,” Ransom answered. “I’ve been loyal to your family all along. If I had wanted to oppose you, would I have sent for you immediately? I came back to Kingfountain at your command, even when prudence dictates that it will set us back in our conquest.”
“He’s telling the truth,” Léa said. “Hearken to him, beloved.”
Jon-Landon frowned, wrestled his lips into a small smile, then nodded. “I hoped I could depend on you, Lord Ransom. I need your loyalty right now. So does the kingdom. The ceremony is happening at twilight. You are both to be there in proper attire befitting such an occasion. Tomorrow morning, after the revelry, we will hold the first council, and I will make my will known concerning each of you.”
Lady Léa rose from the couch and stood next to her husband. Her eyes were full of cunning as she lifted Jon-Landon’s hand and kissed his knuckles.
“You may go,” he said, nodding to dismiss them.
A knock sounded on Ransom’s door while he sat writing a letter to Claire. He looked up, noticing the fading light through his window. The palace was in a frenzy, everyone busily preparing for the coronation, and the commotion and visitors had jangled his nerves. He’d changed for the event, but his temples still throbbed from the earlier confrontation, and he’d hoped for a few stolen moments to write to his wife. Clearly, it was not to be.
Sighing, he pushed the paper away, rose from the chair, and walked to the door. When he opened it, he found his sister, Maeg, on the doorstep. As the king’s ward, she lived in the castle, but he hadn’t been able to find her earlier. From the look on her face, she’d gotten the message he’d sent ahead from Fountainvault. Although he would have preferred to convey the message in person, he’d thought it best to write ahead for fear she would find out from someone else.
“Maeg,” he whispered, holding out his arms, and she came to his embrace.
“Thank you for sending the letter,” she said, her voice muffled by the padded tunic he wore. “I still can’t believe they’re gone.”
“Where is Mother?” Ransom asked.
“She’s at the Heath. Too sick with grief to travel after the funeral rites for Marcus and Kace and the rest of his knights. May I come in?”
“Of course,” Ransom said, shutting the door behind her. He’d wanted to be there for his brother’s rites and resented Jon-Landon’s order to report directly to the palace. Then again, Jon-Landon hadn’t been there for his own father’s funeral. Or his brother’s. Perhaps he didn’t understand.
As Maeg entered, he felt a wave of love and sadness wash through him. They hadn’t been given many chances to spend time together. After the Elder King’s death, Benedict had taken her as his ward to prove Marcus’s loyalty. Now that Marcus was dead, it was Ransom’s role to be her guardian. How heartbroken she must be, knowing that her chance had finally arrived to marry Sir Kace . . . but he had perished in the ambush.