“I wish there was something I could say, something I could do to ease your grief,” Ransom said, resting his hand on her shoulder. “If you blame me for their deaths, I’ll take it fully. I was the one who sent Marcus to give the news to Jon-Landon.”
Maeg winced at the name and massaged her temples. “It’s not your fault, Ransom. I could never blame you.” She turned away from him, beginning to pace, her face pinched with worry and sadness.
“You should go to the Heath. Let Mother comfort you.”
“I can’t,” Maeg said listlessly. “I’m still the king’s ward.”
“I will speak to the king after the coronation, Maeg. He will restore my rights as your guardian. You need time to heal. Time to grieve.”
She looked at him with tear-stricken eyes. “You don’t understand, Ransom. That is not going to happen.”
Ransom’s insides twisted with dread. “What aren’t you telling me?”
She retreated from him and put her back against the door.
“Maeg?”
She began to sob quietly. “He threatened me.”
“Who?” Ransom asked in a dangerous tone. But he already knew.
“The king, who else?” Maeg whimpered. “He summoned me to a private meeting. I was excited because I thought he was going to free me, that I could finally leave Kingfountain.” She paused to catch her breath. “He said . . . he warned me that he was not a patient man. That he had watched some women of court . . . no doubt he meant Claire . . . defy his father.” She looked him in the eyes. “He said it would please him if I accepted Lord James as my husband. He wants to curry favor with the North, and James needs a wife . . . and an heir.”
It was the custom of Legault for a woman to choose her husband. That was not the custom in Ceredigion. James had already informed Ransom of his interest in Maeg, and although the man appeared to have changed from the boy Ransom had known in his youth, he would still prefer a different husband for his sister.
“He kept coming closer, driving me back, until I was against the wall. And he kept coming closer. I could feel his breath against my cheek.”
Ransom’s fury began to ripple with heat. Anger and malice throbbed in his chest.
“He stroked my hair and said if I didn’t do as he asked, he would make it so that no man would want me.”
Ransom’s teeth bit together. The blackness swirling inside him was stronger than a raging river. He took a step forward, determined to confront the king before the coronation.
“No, Ransom,” she said, shaking her head, pressing herself against the door. “I’ve accepted. I told him that I would marry Lord James.”
“That is . . . unconscionable!” Ransom hissed.
Maeg closed her eyes. “He did it deliberately, Ransom. Knowing that you’d be outraged.” She opened her eyes, staring at him fiercely. “Don’t you see? He’s looking for reasons to get rid of you. If you slip, even once, he’ll arrest you for treason.”
“He’s a coward at heart.”
“And because he’s a coward, he’s afraid of you. He wants to destroy you. Ransom . . . he would kill you for disloyalty when you are the most loyal man this kingdom has ever known. We need you. Not just your family, but all of us. For the sake of the people, you must put aside your anger. For the sake of the kingdom, you must put aside your pride. For my sake, you must let this go. I’ve reconciled myself to it already. King Benedict supported the match too, and although I had let myself hope things might be different, Kace is gone. There is no reason for me to balk anymore. So I will marry Lord James, the man who was once your enemy.” She swallowed, bringing her hands together and entwining her fingers in supplication. “Please, Ransom. Don’t defy Jon-Landon. Not for me.”
She was right. Despite his scalding-hot blood, Ransom could see the wisdom in her words. And yet, he was filled with dark emotions that had no release. Grief for his brother. The desire for vengeance on Alix, who’d killed yet another Argentine. His wrath needed a target, but this wasn’t a sword fight in the training yard. This was politics, and it required the kind of maneuverings that went against all Ransom’s instincts and notions of Virtus.
“I’m disgusted,” Ransom said with an ache deep in his chest.
“So am I. I’d hoped that someday Kace and I—” Her voice quivered and caught, and fresh tears spilled from her eyes. “I never saw myself as an attractive heiress. The sister of the Duke of Glosstyr.” She came and embraced him again, pressing her cheek against his chest. “I’m proud of you, Ransom. You’ve always cared for me. I will do this, as hard as it is, for you.” She took his hands in hers. “There are worse things in life than becoming a duchess. And in Dundrennan, I will be far, far away from Kingfountain. And the king,” she added with a tremulous sigh.
Later on, during the coronation ceremony, held in the sanctuary of Our Lady, Ransom kept glancing at his sister, who stood nearby with James Wigant, their arms locked together in a gesture that revealed to all their coming nuptials. His gaze only shifted to the deconeus of the sanctuary when the man lowered the hollow crown onto Jon-Landon’s head. A murmured sigh traveled through the audience of nobles. Then the deconeus set the queen’s crown on Lady Léa’s brow. She gave a cheerful grin, at odds with the solemnity of the moment, and a little giggle bubbled from her mouth, earning her a few shocked looks from the ladies of court.
Ransom gazed at the assembled body. Lord Kiskaddon was looking at him, and when their gazes met, Kiskaddon rolled his eyes and shrugged. Ransom tried not to smirk and failed. Although his heart recognized the significance of the child in Léa’s belly—the future king of Ceredigion, chosen by the Fountain—he nonetheless dreaded the decision he’d made to support Jon-Landon. It would have been easier if Drew Argentine had taken the throne. He could imagine seeing Constance there at the sanctuary at that moment, the king’s mother. But the image felt wrong somehow. There was another fate in the works.
The deconeus spoke with a strong, resonant voice. “Now is the time for the coronation oath. A king blessed by the Fountain who observes his pact with the Fountain will earn great honor for himself. Mercy will be shown to him, both in this life and also in the Deep Fathoms beyond. If you fail to fulfill that which was promised here before Our Lady, then within a very short time things will grow worse for our people, and for you. Make amends if thou doest wrongly. O beloved sovereign, eagerly protect yourself from the calamities foretold!”
Ransom felt a shiver go down his back as his Fountain magic responded to the deconeus’s words of warning. He felt the truth of them prick down to his marrow, but the look on Jon-Landon’s profile suggested he wasn’t listening. He was bored of the lecture and impatient for the revelry to begin.
“This is the oath. The justice of a consecrated king is that he condemns no man unjustly. That he holds the good of the kingdom above his personal fortune. That he treats people of all classes and rank with dignity, not disdain. That he protects foreigners and prisoners held for ransom. He must forbid water sprites from deceiving mortals, destroy evil Wizrs, drive murderers and perjurers out of the country, and appoint righteous and honorable men as officers of justice. The king who acts unjustly by means of his might must give a reckoning before the Deep Fathoms for all of it. This is the coronation oath, my lord. Do you so swear it?”