Fate's Ransom(The First Argentines #4)

“Put him in the river,” Jon-Landon said angrily, motioning for Bodkin to be taken away. “Let the sea claim his bones.”

Guivret and Hans Dragan hastened to follow his command and dragged the man from the room.

“What of the charter?” Ransom pressed.

Jon-Landon turned and went back to the table and looked over the charter again. He glanced down at his son, who’d come to stand by his side.

“What do you say, young prince? This charter will affect us both. Should I stamp it with my seal?”

“Will it end the war with our lords?” the prince asked.

“Aye, lad, it will. And Lord Ransom advises it.”

“If Lord Ransom advises it,” said the boy with great solemnity, “then I think you should, Father.”

Ransom felt the tingling sensation of the Fountain go up his spine as he looked from father to son. Jon-Landon nodded in agreement. From a pouch at his waist, he withdrew the king’s seal. It was the same one the Elder King and Benedict had used. He stared at it a moment, lost in thought. Then the queen brought him an ink sponge, and he pressed the seal into the ink. Ransom felt the tingling turn into a rush of power. The Fountain approved of this moment. He felt giddy inside as he watched the king press the seal to the parchment.

“It is done,” he said. “It cannot be undone.”

The boy took his father’s hand in a trusting way. “It is done. It cannot be undone.”

The queen smiled at both of them. “I wish your sister could have been here to see this,” she said. “It affects her as well.”

A muffled noise came from the curtain, and Princess Léanore huffed and came out, exposing her companion. It was Willem.

“I was here, I was here!” she said with glee and a mischievous smile.

The king and queen looked surprised. Ransom was about to go to the curtain, but Willem came out of his own volition. “Devon’s here too,” he said.

Another curtain rustled, and the other lad emerged. “You didn’t have to tell, Will!”

Ransom laughed despite himself, amused by their daring.

“Sorry, Father,” Willem said.

“I’m not sorry,” Devon said. “Can we watch Bodkin go into the river? Please?”

Jon-Landon smirked at the boys and then raised his eyebrows at Ransom. “I have another suggestion. Rather than watch an execution, perhaps they might enjoy traveling to Glosstyr with Sir Dawson. And then . . . back to Legault. I think Lady Claire misses them.”

“I want to go to Legault too!” implored the princess.

The boys exchanged eager looks and rushed to Ransom for an embrace. His heart felt swollen in his chest. He looked at the king in gratitude.

“You’ve proven your loyalty beyond question,” the king said. “Take your sons. Send them home.”





I returned to Connaught after all the petitions were judged. And to my utter surprise, I found Sir Dawson had just arrived with Willem and Devon. You can imagine my astonishment. I hugged those big boys tightly, amazed at how much they’d grown, and smothered them with kisses that they patiently endured. Sir Dawson related the news as quickly as he could but then gave me a letter Ransom had written the day before. I cannot express my relief and joy at the possibility that peace might come at last.

Ransom has brokered an agreement between the lords of the realm, Kiskaddon included. They call it the Charter of the Noble Assizes, and the king has added his seal to it. It means that Legault cannot be stripped away from me without a trial of our peers called the Assizes. And that Ransom’s duchy is protected and can be handed down to our heirs in perpetuity. He told me of a miracle that happened at the sanctuary of Our Lady. The river swelled over its banks after his duel with Guivret—who is alive!—to signal to Kiskaddon that Ransom had spoken the truth. I don’t think my heart can take in so much good news at once.

The king’s family and his treasures are being moved to Glosstyr. Riders have been sent north to stop the fighting between Faulkes and James. I’ve not heard what has happened to the ships I sent to Kingfountain. But this may truly be the end of dark times. I rejoice. I wish Ransom could have come in person, but he’s protecting Jon-Landon and guarding them on their journey. Sir Dawson has asked leave to return to Glosstyr to meet them there. I think he also wants to go back because there is a certain member of the Espion he fancies. I’d like to meet this Cecily and thank her for saving Ransom from abduction. I don’t pity Bodkin. His death was deserved.

—Claire de Murrow

Connaught Castle

(rays of hope)





CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX


A Will Stronger than Iron


The wind howled from the north, and the gusty bursts made Ransom’s cloak flap behind him. He missed Dappled, but he rode a sturdy destrier and carried a lance, guarding the wagons with his knights as they lumbered north to Glosstyr. At the slow pace of the heavy wagons, it would take three days to reach the fortress.

Guivret had returned to Kingfountain to tell Duke Kiskaddon that the charter had been signed, that he had seen the king’s seal with his own eyes. Ransom would have preferred for the knight to stay—he trusted him implicitly now that he’d been lifted from Alix’s spell—but it was imperative the message be sent by someone reliable. And Ransom could not delay getting Jon-Landon to safety. A warning rippled through his mind. His magic had been stronger than usual lately, rendered so by his acts of loyalty to the Argentines. To the Fountain itself, brought on by his Fountain magic, which had filled him to the brim to reward him for his loyalty to the crown.

“Sir Galt,” Ransom said to one of his knights nearby.

“Aye, my lord?”

“Take ten others and go back to Averanche. Scout our retreat and all roads leading there. I don’t want to be taken unawares.”

“The last scouts saw nothing,” Galt said with confusion. “No sign of the enemy at all.”

“Do it again,” Ransom ordered. “I have an ill feeling in my bones.”

“As you command, my lord.” The knight gave him a salute and rode off to gather his fellows and depart from the host.

They expected to arrive at St. Penryn by nightfall, and Ransom had sent a knight ahead to warn the deconeus they were coming. There was still no word from North Cumbria or Kingfountain, which would have been nearly impossible to get back so soon. He hoped news of the charter had arrived in time to prevent more bloodshed.

As the sun waned in the sky and the blustering wind began to spatter occasional blasts of rain, half the knights he’d sent south returned, riding at breakneck speed to catch up with the rear guard.

Ransom turned his destrier and went to meet them.

Sir Galt’s face was pale with fear, which made Ransom’s stomach tighten and twist like ropes.

“Well?” Ransom asked.

Sir Galt wiped the sweat from his face. “You were right, my lord. There is trouble. The Occitanians have invaded. An army is coming behind us.”

Ransom stared at him in dismay. “Where is it?”

“Part has stopped to lay siege to Averanche.”

The coil in Ransom’s stomach tightened. “Part, you say?”

“The rest are coming after us,” Galt said with worry. “I lost three men trying to escape. A fourth never came back from his road, so I assume he’s been captured. They’ve chased us all the way back here.”

“How many chased you?”

“Fifty. They broke off when we came within sight of you. They’ll rejoin the others.”

“How many knights?”

“Eight hundred, maybe? More? They also have foot soldiers and siege engines and wagons. I’ve never seen a host so large. Several thousand at least.”

This was the news he’d been dreading. The attack on Kingfountain had been a feint—Estian had been preparing for this effort all along. His pieces on the Wizr board were circling around Jon-Landon and his children, preparing to knock them down once and for all. This was the end of the game—the final threat and mate.