Fate's Ransom(The First Argentines #4)

Cecily was quiet for a moment. “I can’t say this for certain, but I don’t think she was given a choice. I’ve heard one of the Espion bragging that the marriage ceremony was rather . . . short. That she was forced to say yes.”

Fury blazed in Ransom’s chest. He started pacing, then paused, trying to keep the anger from his voice. “I sent Simon to reinforce Connaught. Do you know if he arrived in time?”

“I don’t think they did,” she said softly. “The king’s fleet was waiting at Blackpool. They would have gotten there first.”

Ransom’s anguish doubled at the knowledge that Claire was facing immense odds. And she would have to face them alone.

He knew she wouldn’t surrender. She would not go back into bondage.

“I must go,” Cecily whispered.

Ransom turned. “Thank you,” he told her sincerely. “Thank you for everything.”

She looked down. “Why don’t you fight back? Many would follow your example.”

He knew she spoke the truth.

“And that’s why I can’t,” he told her.

In the darkness of the room, he felt his Fountain magic throb. It was just a single pulse, a feeling of agreement. He didn’t know why the Fountain had brought him to this prison, but he would not abandon the duty it had set out for him.

Even if his king took everything from him.





It has been over a fortnight since I last wrote. Simon arrived with reinforcements from Glosstyr. Because of the blockade, they were forced to land on a different part of the island before making their way to Connaught. The additional soldiers were greatly appreciated, and Simon’s counsel about the war has been useful.

Our defense comes down to two options. If we remain in the castle, they can pin us here indefinitely while they conquer the rest of the island. I don’t care for this approach, although it would enable us to hold out for months. The other option is hiding a large number of our soldiers in the woods. We draw their gaze to the castle itself and then attack them when they least expect it. The danger of this strategy is that our force may not be large enough to defeat theirs, and we risk losing because retreat would be impossible. Our men would be cut off from the castle, and I don’t think Faulkes would show mercy. But if we could defeat his army, it would end the conflict and allow us to bide our time for another invasion from Ceredigion while rallying strength from the lords who are still loyal.

Dawson and Simon think that the second plan is worth the risk. Dearley thinks the first has a better chance of long-term success. Faulkes and his army are coming up the road and will be here in three days if not sooner. It is time to decide.

—Claire de Murrow, Queen of the Fair Isle

(fateful choices)





CHAPTER FOURTEEN


Vultures of War


Days turned into weeks, and Ransom found it difficult to keep track of the passing time. He longed for any news from Legault, but what little tidings Cecily supplied were grim. Half of the island kingdom had been conquered, and Faulkes had finally turned his machinations against Connaught itself. More than anything, Ransom wished he were there to face the threat himself. He thought about slipping away from the palace with the boys, but his conscience forbade it. He could not forget Alix’s wish to kill the king and his children, to end the game and doom Ceredigion to a watery grave.

Because of the insult to King Gotz, the Brugians began to launch raiding ships against Ceredigion’s coast. Perhaps encouraged by their example, the Atabyrions began a series of incursions against North Cumbria. And the Occitanians began building at the ruins of Tatton Grange in order to build a stronghold in Westmarch.

With the threats around him growing, Jon-Landon summoned his council to meet at Kingfountain. Ransom wasn’t invited to participate, of course, but he was interested in what was going on. He was walking the inner corridors of the palace, waiting for news from the council, when he heard shouting from inside the great hall. His stomach clenched. The door leading to the great hall was shoved open, and Lord Kiskaddon stormed out, his face splotched with color. Ransom had never seen the man so angry before.

Kiskaddon marched down the corridor, slowing when he noticed Ransom some distance away. There were servants nearby, exchanging worried looks, but the duke’s attention was fixed on Ransom. He approached him, shaking his head in disgust.

“I’ve never known such a short-sighted man,” he fumed.

“I take it the council didn’t go so well, Hal.”

“He’s so fixed on his conquest that he cannot see the damage he’s doing. We’re being attacked on all fronts by our enemies, but he’s still determined to cut off his own right arm! I told him to end this fruitless attack on Legault and restore you to your rightful station. He exploded and began ranting like a madman. You’ve done nothing to discredit yourself, Ransom. There is no reason for his spite.”

“I’m grateful you spoke up for me, but I can see it didn’t do any good.”

“No, it only made things worse,” Kiskaddon said. He looked back at the doors to the great hall and scowled. “He’ll probably come after me next.”

Ransom sympathized with Lord Kiskaddon, but he suspected he was right. “What have the Brugians been up to? I only hear a little bit now and then.”

Kiskaddon shook his head. “We never know when or where they’re going to strike because all of our ships are anchored off the coast of Legault. The king seems to think the war he’s waging against your lands will soon be over. He won’t draw them off until it is. I’m sorry, Ransom.” The duke clapped him on the shoulder. “I’d better go while I still can. He’s bled us dry paying scutage, and now he expects us to fight anyway, while he keeps the money. Bennett would never have acted this way.”

Ransom gave him the knightly salute. The other knight returned it and marched down the corridor.

With nothing else to occupy himself, Ransom continued his walk, and some hours later he was approached by the queen’s steward, Master Dyson.

“Ah, there you are. The queen would like to speak to you. Would you come with me, please?”

“Of course,” Ransom answered, surprised by the summons. During his confinement, she’d never asked to speak with him privately before. He’d seen more of her daughter than he had of the queen herself.

The steward took him to the solar, where he found Queen Léa sitting on a couch with the prince, whose eyes were puffy from crying. She wore a simple coronet in her braided hair, several rings on her fingers, and a jeweled necklace set with a flashing emerald.

“Thank you, Dyson,” she said, then flicked her fingers at the steward to dismiss him.

The prince sniffled, and Léa stroked his back.

Ransom bowed to her. “What do you need, my lady?” he asked.

“I don’t need anything, Lord Ransom. I’m a queen. Some news came today. I thought you’d want to know.”

His stomach filled with dread. “Yes, my lady?”

“The queen dowager . . . is dead. Her health has been failing of late. Poor Devon didn’t know her all that well, but he was really saddened by the news.” She rubbed her son’s neck. “She was someone special to you, I believe. The one who ransomed you all those years ago.”

Grief struck Ransom like a lance to his heart. His first reaction was disbelief, but then a feeling of numbness sapped away his surprise. Had her sickness been natural, or was it contrived? Had Alix poisoned her own mother out of spite and revenge?

“I’m sorry to hear it,” Ransom said, keeping his voice steady.

Léa gave him a probing look. “I haven’t told my husband yet. How do you think he will take it?”

It shocked him that she’d told him first. How had she learned the news before her husband? Perhaps the message had been delivered to her first deliberately, because the bearer feared how the mercurial king would react.

“They were never that close,” Ransom said. “It’s difficult to say.” The numbness was awful. He wanted to mourn, but he dared not show emotion in front of Jon-Landon’s petty queen.

“I wanted your advice,” she said. “Whether you believe it or not, you know Jon-Landon better than most people. He still respects you.”