“No,” Ransom said.
She looked up at him in surprise. “After all of the people I’ve killed?”
He folded his arms. “You did that under Estian’s orders.”
“Did I? Can you be sure?”
“I’m fairly sure. You didn’t tell him about the book. The one you stole from Claire. Why?”
She gazed at him, her expression inscrutable. “Because of what he would have made me do if he knew what I could really do,” she answered softly.
He didn’t trust her words. Not in the least. But she wasn’t using her power against him. What had she become over the years since she’d tended his injury? There was a dark look in her eyes, an absence of goodness.
“Where is the book now, Alix? I’m going to make it a term of his release. Part of his ransom.”
She shook her head. “He can’t get it. I sent it to Pisan. They have other ancient tomes there, ones only the Fountain-blessed can read.”
“So it is already gone?”
“I felt its influence on me the moment I saw it,” she said. “I don’t like to be . . . manipulated.”
“A wise decision. It would have destroyed you.”
“Maybe it already has, Ransom. If you’re not going to kill me, then what? I’ll never go free again. And that would be a fate worse than death.”
“It might teach you patience,” Ransom said.
“Where is the bracelet?” she asked him as he turned to go.
He looked at her. “Safe. What is it?”
“It was the only thing I had that belonged to my mother,” she said. “It has no magic. May I have it back?”
He felt a throb of Fountain magic push at him. It came from her.
“I don’t think so,” he answered. “I’ll have the guard bring you some moldy bread later. And some broth.”
Hatred and anger gleamed in her eyes. Unnerved by the look, he left the room, and it was locked up behind him.
“Will you have some dinner?” Cecily asked as they mounted the steps.
“I’m too weary,” Ransom answered. “I’m going to get some rest. Tell Dawson that I’ll meet him in the training yard at first light.” He needed to replenish his magic. Practicing in the yard had always done that for him because, he suspected, his devotion to practicing, to becoming the best swordsman possible, extended from loyalty to the crown.
“Very well. I need to check on Devon and Léanore. They were so glad to be back in their room again. They’ve always shared one.”
“I can’t wait for my sons to see them again.” He let a sigh escape him. “This will all be a memory soon.”
She put a hand on his arm. “You did it, Lord Ransom. No one else could have. I look forward to serving you when I return from Pisan. I assume you want me to find that book you mentioned?”
He gave her a grateful smile, and then they parted. Back in his room, he pulled off his boots and set them down. He was about to unbuckle his scabbard but decided not to. His body was still healing from the wounds he’d earned at the battle. One more night with the scabbard would completely restore him.
He blew out the candle and lay back, relishing the quiet and the darkness. Clasping his hands over his chest, he fell asleep in moments.
And awakened—groggily—to the warning pulse of his Fountain magic.
Lady Alix was coming down the corridor.
It is after midnight, and my hand trembles. We stopped for the night at Greton Lodge on the way to Kingfountain. A nightmare awakened me. It’s one I’ve had before. A warning that Ransom’s life was in danger. My heart is racing. The only news we’ve had is good news, of the coming coronation. Yet I cannot control my fear. I will awaken Dearley. We will rouse the children and ride to Kingfountain in the night. I pray that my fears are unfounded. But the Aos Sí do not always hear our prayers.
—Claire de Murrow
Greton Lodge
Midnight
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
When Courage Fails
Ransom threw off his blanket. The scabbard and blade were still snug around his hips. He groped in the dark for his boots and quickly tugged them on as he felt the presence of the poisoner coming toward him. He strode to the door.
“Who is on guard?” he called through the wood. How had she gotten away so quickly? She was in chains, behind a locked door, watched by guards with wax in their ears. It infuriated and confused him.
“It is I, Sir Galt,” came the muffled voice on the other side.
“Call for the night watch,” Ransom ordered. “The poisoner is—”
He heard a startled grunt and felt the shock of a body falling against the door. Then the sound of Sir Galt sliding down onto the floor, gurgling, followed by stillness.
Sweat beaded on Ransom’s forehead. The bar was still nested in place, so his door was locked. The room was pitch black, and when he turned and searched for his hauberk, he tripped over something on the floor. He sensed Alix’s presence arriving at his door. His fingers found the chain mail, and he began to pull it on quickly, knowing any protection was better than none.
“Anoichto.”
He recognized the word as the old speech, but he didn’t remember what it meant. The bar locking the door slid open, revealing torchlight from the hall beyond but no poisoner. With one arm through the hauberk sleeve already, he drew his bastard sword. He was about to lunge into the doorframe when he smelled the sweet odor of lilac. Before he could react, a puff of dust stung his eyes.
He blinked, trying to clear his vision, and then swung his blade in a wide arc, hoping to catch her by surprise with the sudden movement. His muscles constricted, and he felt his heart begin to race. The blade dropped from his suddenly numb fingers. A strange taste came from the back of his throat, almost like corn but harsher. He started to gag, and Alix shoved him backward onto the bed.
A strange euphoria began to fill his thoughts, like a suppressive cloud that made thinking difficult.
Sir Galt’s body was dragged into his room and dumped unceremoniously in the corner. Then Alix appeared suddenly at his bedside, her image just a blur to his fogged senses, and used a dagger and flint to light the candle he’d extinguished earlier. He sensed her going to the door and shutting it, then heard the bolt slide back into place.
The fear he’d felt earlier was gone. It was a pleasant feeling, like he was floating down a river. His wild imaginings wondered what it would feel like to go over the falls.
“I don’t have much time to interrogate you,” she said, coming to the bedside again. “You’ve ingested a strong dose of nightshade. Any stronger, and it would have killed you.” He felt her magic slip over him, coaxing and gentle. “Where did you hide the Wizr board?”
He wouldn’t tell her. She was his enemy.
But his lips betrayed him.
“In the waters of the cistern beneath the castle.”
“Interesting,” Alix said, bemused. “I wouldn’t have thought to look there. Does anyone else know where it is? Did you tell anyone?”
Again he spoke truthfully, unable to resist her question. “No.”
“Oh good, then no one will stop me when I come back for it. I’ve been to this castle many times already, you know, always while you were away. I hid weapons and poisons in various fountains for just such a situation. Oh, Ransom. You should have killed me back at Thorngate. A costly mistake.”