Fate's Ransom(The First Argentines #4)

It was a two-day ride to the palace, but they were met by Lord Kiskaddon’s men before they arrived. Faulkes had done his duty and related the events, and Kiskaddon had come personally with his knights to escort them back to the city. When he saw Estian, his brow lowered and his lip curled in disgust. He was another man who saw the Occitanian king as his sworn enemy.

When they reached the palace to the fanfare of a jubilant city, the streets were thronged with people who cheered for the young prince. The peoples’ cries of adoration were enough to warm Ransom’s heart. But it pleased him even more to learn that the fleet Claire had sent had ravaged Estian’s ships in the harbor. The flag of Legault flew aboard the ships, its beautiful knot pattern rippling in the pleasant breeze. Only three of Estian’s ships had surrendered during the fighting. His defeat was absolute.

As they rode over the bridge, the noise of the falls filled Ransom with a surge of homesickness. There was the palace atop the hill, still standing—forever unbreached. But he could not forget the whispers he’d heard on his last visit.

Part of him feared this was not over, however it might seem.

After disembarking at the palace, he was greeted by the aging Sir Iain, who had come up from Beestone and was preparing accommodations for the upcoming coronation. Ransom carried the chest with the Wizr set into the palace himself, not trusting it to any hands other than his own. He slipped away from the others as soon as he could, retreating to the garden where he used to meet Claire and Emiloh. It provided an entrance to the cistern below the castle. As he paused at the steps, he opened the board once more. All was in order. And there was a new piece coming along the strip of black and white squares from the direction of Glosstyr. Claire. He breathed out a sigh of relief. She was coming.

After closing the lid, he carried the case down the steps to the edge of the water. He felt a ripple of his Fountain magic as he bent low and set the chest into the waters. After straightening, he looked down into the water, but the chest was undetectable. He retreated back to the palace and felt weariness pressing in on him.

As he approached his room, he saw Cecily standing to one side of the door, her back against the wall. Dawson was holding her hands in his, having just lowered her knuckles from his lips. They both turned and smiled when they saw it was him approaching.

“It’s dusk already,” Ransom observed, noticing the torches were all alight now, and the sunlight was fading outside. “Where is she?”

There was no doubt as to whom he meant.

“The dungeon below the palace,” Cecily said. “The Espion all know none of them are to bring her food or speak with her without little dabs of wax in their ears. They know her magic is very persuasive. She’s alone, in her chains, behind an iron door.”

Ransom could sense Alix in the palace, and although the presence was dimmed by distance, he knew exactly where to find her.

“Good. I will speak to her tonight before going to bed. Where is Estian?”

“He’s in the stateroom on the east side of the palace. Six knights guard him.”

Ransom nodded and then looked at Dawson. “I think Dearley might return with Claire and the children by tomorrow. Let Sir Iain know and find out if we can be moved to a different set of rooms so we can all be together.”

“Of course, my lord,” Dawson said. He squeezed Cecily’s hand once more and then departed.

Ransom lifted his eyebrows at her playfully, and she smiled with contentment.

“He’s agreed to wait for my training to be done,” she said. “Not every man is so patient. Shall I join you?”

He nodded. “I don’t want to lose my head either. Why don’t you put the wax in your ears and take the key to her shackles?” He reached into his pocket, felt past the pearl bracelet, and then gave her the key.

They walked together, discussing the news. Simon had returned with them, resuming his old position as Espion master, and he was already hard at work determining which Espion were loyal and which were not. Those sympathetic to Bodkin and his manner of doing things would be let go.

They descended the steps to the cells, and Alix’s presence became more intense. There were two knights at the outer door of the dungeon and an Espion posted just inside.

A different guard unlocked the door. Cecily waited at the opening, wax in her ears, while Ransom walked inside.

Alix sat on a small cot, her cloak off now and covering her knees for warmth. The chains rattled as she moved her arms. Her head was bowed, her golden hair blocking her face.

“Are you going to put me to death, Ransom? Send me over the falls to punish me for my crimes?” she asked him in a weary voice. Again, he smelled the scent of lilac, although it was faded. One of the vials they’d taken from her had obviously contained her perfume.

“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.