“Come back inside, dearest.”
Lady Deborah had discerned the news. Her happy smile had shifted to a thinly pressed line. “So the Fountain wills.” She looked at Prince Devon. “Welcome to Thorngate as well, Prince Devon. My liege.”
When Simon arrived next, Ransom gave the order for his knights to secure the town and bring the Occitanian provisions from the encampment up to the keep. His men were hungry and weary and deserved to recuperate from the battle. Simon took charge and said the Espion would look for stragglers with evil intentions.
As they spoke, Cecily approached their horses.
“Where is Sir Dawson?” she asked worriedly. She looked like she hadn’t slept much the last few days. Her first question was telling.
“I sent him after one of Estian’s knights,” Ransom said, “who has something we need.”
Simon nodded in understanding.
“I hope he returns soon,” Cecily said, her face twisting with worry. After a moment, her expression softened, and she glanced at Ransom. “That was an impressive victory, my lord. I don’t think a battle such as this has ever been won. Let me fetch a barber for you. I don’t know how you’re still standing.”
Ransom returned with her to the keep and, with the help of one of Lady Deborah’s squires, managed to detach his armor, which the lad set about to clean. The room was sparse, but servants brought him a washbowl and towel and a change of clothes. When a barber arrived, Ransom sent him away to attend to the wounded on the battlefield instead. He stripped off his tunic and hauberk and began to scrub away the grime. His wounds were still painful, but the scabbard was glowing. He sat at the edge of a sturdy cot and put his head in his hands, shocked he was still alive.
Then he slumped onto the cot and promptly fell asleep.
He awoke when a soft hand touched his arm. Blinking, he lifted his head and saw Dawson and Cecily standing there. By the flushed looks on their faces, he suspected they’d been kissing, and from the way she leaned into him, one hand on Dawson’s chest, he imagined they’d been exchanging promises as well.
“You’re back?” Ransom said, grunting with pain as he sat up. His legs and knees throbbed with protest. He was cold, and he realized he hadn’t replaced his tunic and had slept in his muddy boots.
“I think you should put on a tunic, my lord. You have visitors.”
Ransom arched his eyebrows wonderingly. Could it be Claire? Had she managed somehow to come?
“Who?” he demanded. He rose and grabbed the fresh tunic that had been brought for him, folded on the table by the washbowl, which had been thoroughly muddied.
“Lord Montfort from Brythonica,” said Sir Dawson. “And Lord James Wigant. They brought five hundred knights with them.” He sighed, his shoulders slumping a little. “I didn’t catch Estian’s knight before he reached Tatton Hall, my lord.” Then he grinned. “They did.”
The storm is over. The waters have calmed. I’ve ordered Captain Grenat to prepare my ship. We’re sailing for Glosstyr.
—Claire de Murrow
Connaught Castle
(bright skies in the east)
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Ancient Covenant
Ransom dressed in fresh clothes, then went to the solar to join the others. He was surprised to have survived the battle he’d expected to be his last. But the Ondine’s words still nagged at him. Had he truly cheated death, or only delayed it?
Lord Montfort and James were both there, the latter sitting languidly in a stuffed chair, eating a piece of roasted fowl from the table of refreshments. Queen Léa, Cecily, and Simon were all present, sitting on various surfaces, and Lady Deborah stood at the window. Dearley had been dispatched to Glosstyr following the battle to bring the tidings of their victory to Claire, and to bring her and the children to Kingfountain for the coronation of Prince Devon. Faulkes had been sent ahead to the capital to alert Lord Kiskaddon of the victory so preparations might begin for the coronation. The prince and the princess were absent from the room.
Ransom’s gaze was drawn to the chest with the Wizr board, which sat atop a rounded table in the center of the room. He recognized the handle instantly. But still, he had to be sure. With their eyes following him, he approached it and undid the latch. He opened it.
The set was unmistakable, and he breathed a sigh of relief. As he examined the board, he saw the Black King piece in the center, surrounded by several powerful pieces. Few black pieces were left. But he spied the Wizr piece, the one representing Alix, a few squares away. He suspected she was at Tatton Hall, as Estian had said.
“Is all in order, Lord Ransom?” asked Montfort with a smile.
“It appears so.”
The queen approached, her eyes red-rimmed from crying. “Is this the set that Jonny told me of? The one that was stolen from Benedict?”
“It is, my lady,” Ransom said. “Only heirs to the throne can move the pieces. Your son and daughter for our side.”
“So few pieces remain,” she said sadly.
It was true. The board was badly diminished. During the game, the two sides had nearly destroyed each other. Ransom closed the lid and then looked to Simon.
“How many did we lose?”
“Around four hundred,” he replied.
“And the Occitanians?” Lady Deborah asked.
Simon stroked his goatee. “Two thousand, probably. After they abandoned their arms, we compelled a thousand men to bury their dead. The rest began the long walk to Westmarch.”
“Where is Estian?” Ransom asked.
“He’s in the dungeon,” said Lady Deborah.
“Where he belongs,” James added in a snide voice.
“How many guard him?”
“Enough, Ransom,” Simon said soothingly. “There is but one fountain here in the keep, and it’s guarded by six men. The Espion are watching Devon and Léanore.”
“We need to discuss Estian’s ransom,” Ransom said. “I have my own ideas, but I’d like to hear yours.”
The queen stiffened, her lips pursing in a look of revenge. “The same that we paid for Benedict is more than fair. Our treasure is lost, so I hear.”
Ransom looked to Lady Deborah next.
“You intend to release him?” she asked.
Ransom nodded. “Eventually.”
“I say we strap him into a canoe and throw him over the falls,” said the queen.
“I promised I would spare him,” Ransom said.
The queen huffed. “It wasn’t your decision to make alone, Lord Ransom.”
“My lady,” Simon interjected. “If he had slain the king, none of us would be here right now. The Occitanians would have swarmed us. Capturing him was what ended the battle and saved our lives.”
The queen flushed and turned away. “My husband is dead. Why can Estian not suffer for it?”
Lady Deborah went to her and stroked her arm. “I don’t think Lord Ransom was suggesting letting him go free for nothing.”
“He’s not been weakened sufficiently,” Ransom said. “We need to buy ourselves some time. We need to buy the prince time.”
Simon gave him a quizzical look. “You want to exchange hostages, don’t you?”