“We all must go to the Deep Fathoms in our time,” Ransom said.
“I’m afraid,” Jon-Landon said with desperation.
“What of?”
“I didn’t believe . . . I didn’t want to believe. But I saw the flood come. I saw the wave that struck us. It’s real. The Fountain. The Lady. It’s real. And what will happen to me? Ransom? What if I’m cursed?” The panic in his voice was awful to hear.
Ransom waited, thinking, watching the gasping breaths come. It wouldn’t be long now.
“I don’t know what happens there,” Ransom said. “But I know that things do not end. When I served your father, one night in the palace I heard a voice calling my name. A quiet voice in the still of the night. I went to one of the fountains in the palace and saw the shade of King Gervase.”
Jon-Landon squeezed Ransom’s hand hard. “His . . . shade?”
“Truly. He told me of that other world. He told me it is different than this one. Kinder. Gentler. I think . . . I think they weep for us, my lord. At what we do to each other here.”
“Will my . . . father be there?”
“I think he’s there now. And Devon, Goff, and Bennett. And your mother.”
The king writhed in pain. “I’d be too ashamed to see them. After all I’ve done. How I’ve been persuaded to do . . . the unthinkable. What I’ve lost now.”
“I think they would understand the dilemmas you’ve faced,” Ransom said.
The king grunted. “A favor, Lord Ransom. A final one. Please.”
“Anything, my lord,” Ransom said, leaning forward.
“Don’t . . . don’t tell my wife.”
Ransom frowned. “Tell her what?”
“Don’t tell her what a wretched man I am. What I did . . . to your sister. To others. Especially the boy. His death haunts me the most. Men like Bodkin . . . encouraged me to do what I wanted. They told me the Deep Fathoms was only a myth for children, and there would be no price to pay for breaking the oaths of my office. I did awful things, Ransom. I was . . . horrible. I tried to . . . to break you.” His grip began to slacken. “But you were . . . made of stronger stuff. You were iron. I couldn’t . . . bend you. If she finds out . . . don’t lie. But please . . . don’t ruin her belief in me. I . . . oh, by the Lady . . . I . . . I . . . I’m dying . . . I’m dying. Can’t . . . breathe . . . don’t let me go . . . don’t let me die yet! Léa . . .”
Pain squeezed Ransom’s heart as he heard the final breath wheeze out. Tears trickled down Ransom’s cheeks. He grieved for the king, for the man he could have been, for the regrets that had tormented him at the end. Jon-Landon had longed for the comfort of his wife’s touch, her voice, in his final moment, but that wish hadn’t been granted to him. And Ransom doubted he would have that comfort either.
A prick of light stabbed him in the eye, coming from a chink in the storm clouds and shutters. Dawn had come with the king’s dying breath. Ransom sat in the stillness, hearing the gentle sigh of a little boy fast asleep. His own breath came in choking sobs as he mourned the death of yet another king. A king whose only friend, in the end, had been Ransom. The burden was too heavy. He felt it breaking him.
One of the knights standing guard stepped into the room.
“He’s gone, then?”
Ransom couldn’t speak, but he nodded.
“Then that’s the end of this,” the knight said darkly. “Foul and salty as the sea is, it will be made fouler still by Jon-Landon Argentine.”
“What of the boy?” asked another knight. “Do we stand guard still?”
“No,” Ransom said, rising from the bed. “I’ll take him to my room.”
Walking around the bedside, Ransom carefully cradled Devon Argentine in his arms and held him close as he walked away from the awful scene of death.
They were gathered in the great hall of Glosstyr’s majestic fortress. A final council of war. Ransom led the meeting, which consisted of Simon of Holmberg, Dearley, Dawson, James Wigant, Lord Faulkes, and three lesser lords who had come after receiving word of the treaty and Estian’s attack. The look of rivalry between James and Faulkes showed the bitterness between the two men. They were done with fighting each other, but their mutual antipathy hung in the air like smoke.
“Any word from Kiskaddon?” James asked after Ransom had explained the situation and the lopsided balance of power between the kingdoms.
“None,” Simon answered flatly.
James looked haggard and worried. He had a bruise on his cheek and scratches on his brow.
“Why not go to Kingfountain, combine our forces, then return to break the siege against Thorngate?” Faulkes suggested.
Dawson leaned forward. “Because Thorngate cannot last that long. It’s not a powerful fortress. According to our sources, Estian’s army has already broken past the outer walls—”
“How did they manage that so quickly?” Faulkes countered angrily.
“He brought siege engines,” Dawson said, glaring at Faulkes. “He’s planning to use them on Kingfountain itself.”
“And you know this how?”
Ransom held up his hand to stop Dawson, who looked ready to punch Faulkes in the mouth. The man had feelings for Cecily, and she was there in the castle to protect the queen, Lady Deborah, and the princess. Estian had the Wizr board, so he knew exactly where they were. Slipping out of the castle would be too risky. No, they had to wait for help to come to them.
“Estian has the interior of the town,” Ransom said. “The last message arrived during breakfast. They’ll try to break through the keep. We don’t have much time.”
“We have the hollow crown,” James said. “Why not name our own king? Forget the charter.”
“I knew you’d say that,” Faulkes growled.
James gave his enemy a withering look.
“That’s not possible,” Ransom said.
“It is, actually,” James countered. “Hear me out. Ransom . . . it could be you—”
“No!” Ransom shouted, loudly enough that the room fell silent.
“You alone command enough respect,” James persisted. “Not a boy, not that boy.”
Ransom shook his head. “You don’t understand.”
“I understand the situation pretty well, I think,” James said angrily. “Estian has come with his full force. We do not have enough men to counter him. If we go to Kingfountain, we’d at least stand a chance. Let Thorngate fall.”
“No!” Dawson snarled.
“Why not you, Wigant? Why don’t you be king?” Faulkes taunted.
“I am of noble blood, but sadly I lack the resources and don’t command the respect. Give it to Kiskaddon, then! But breaking the siege at Thorngate will accomplish nothing.”
“If it were your wife and child there, would you feel differently?” Dearley asked pointedly.
James frowned and shot an angry look instead of a reply. Then he threw up his hands. “If only this abominable rain would end! Some of the roads have already washed out, and there are rivers of water coming from the hills. It must end eventually.”
“It won’t end until this conflict ends,” Ransom said. “Our kingdom will be flooded. The rain will not stop. Winter will not come. We will be trapped in perpetual autumn until there is no way to grow food, no way to live, and no way to escape.”