Lady's Ransom (The First Argentines, #3)

“You’ve been to the oasis. I must admit that my imagination is fired up. For years I’ve longed to make a pilgrimage there. I’d about given up hope.”

Ransom felt a strange brew of emotions. He didn’t wish to go back—indeed, he’d dreaded it—but he still felt overlooked. No, “overlooked” was not the right word. He’d been given an important task, but he was a warrior first and foremost, and he had been taken out of this fight. “I wish you luck on your journey.”

He’d tried to conceal his conflicted feelings, but Lord Kinghorn picked up on them. “You want to go back.”

“Not really, to be honest,” Ransom said, shaking his head. He fidgeted and then sighed. “There is so much to do here. Legault is in shambles.” The other’s observant eyes bored into Ransom. “There are troubles enough without adding more.”

Lord Kinghorn put his hand on Ransom’s shoulder, a fatherly gesture. “I think the king should have taken you,” he said. “You are, after all, the strongest knight in the realm. In any realm, I should venture. I don’t say this to fill you with pride. I just speak the truth. The king has been envious of your reputation. He goes to war to secure his own.”

The words brought a small measure of relief to Ransom’s heart. “Thank you.”

Lord Kinghorn lowered his hand. “Bennett is still very young. I’m impressed, so far. Even though he serves his own ends by keeping you away from your share of the glory, he is pragmatic enough to put you to good use. Keeping you in Ceredigion . . . or at least nearby . . . will help prevent treachery. I don’t trust the Brugians any more than I do the Occitanians. You remember when they invaded us all those years ago. You proved a formidable knight even then. And the Fountain knows Estian the Black fears you. Whatever mischief he might plan will be tempered by the knowledge that you stand in the way.”

Ransom swallowed. “I cannot protect the king if I am not with him.”

Lord Kinghorn’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I speak of Estian’s poisoner, Alix of Bayree. She’s killed two kings so far. She is cunning and deadly. If she travels with Estian, our king will be vulnerable.” Ransom wanted to confide in him that she was also the queen dowager’s illegitimate daughter, but he didn’t dare share the news without the king’s permission. Benedict knew the truth, of course, and understood the nature of the threat.

There were only three remaining descendants of Devon Argentine, and the Fountain had warned Ransom that he was all that stood in the way of the line failing. Perhaps the king had also chosen to leave him behind because he feared what might happen to Jon-Landon and Drew in his absence.

“You’ve shared your concern with the king?”

“I’ve told him. And he believes me. Both of us have fallen victim to her treachery before.”

Lord Kinghorn nodded thoughtfully. “I will make sure no harm comes to him. I know he sent an emissary to Pisan to see if he could learn the nature of the poison used to kill his father. I suspect it was the same one used on his brother. Their response? Send someone to the school. With war happening right now, we cannot afford the cost or the time.”

Alix had offered to heal the Elder King if Ransom did her bidding, which indicated there was an antidote, but it could have been another lie. The school would keep its secrets carefully guarded.

“I’m grateful you’ll be with him,” Ransom said. “And frustrated that we cannot gain the information we seek. But perhaps you will find something else you seek on this journey. There are many fountains at the oasis. Be sure to choose the right one.” Ransom chose not to reveal the one he’d found. The Fountain had whispered its location to him. That was part of the test, he imagined. Whether someone would listen to the voice and follow it.

“We will speak again, Ransom, on this matter. I know the king said he wants to leave soon and winter with the fleet farther east, but we must take time to prepare and plan. As you said, the logistics will pose a challenge.”

Someone approached them, and when Ransom turned, he saw the smooth face of the chancellor, Longmont. “I’m sorry to intrude, gentlemen,” he said in a somewhat condescending tone, “but His Majesty wishes to speak with Lord Ransom.”

“We’ve just finished,” said Lord Kinghorn, inclining his head.

“I’m grateful I didn’t interrupt, then,” said Longmont. He was, by Ransom’s estimation, about ten years older than himself, but had a youthful face that belied his age. The styles he wore were too flashy for Ransom’s taste, from his gloves to the foppish velvet hat angled across his brow. The man bowed to Lord Kinghorn and then gestured for Ransom to follow him.

The two walked out of the great hall, using not the main door but the back one that led toward the king’s private chambers. The chancellor walked quickly and confidently with a bit of a hurried pace.

When they were alone in the passage, the chancellor said, “If I understand the situation well, and correct me if I don’t, you found Connaught castle in a bit of a mess, Lord Ransom. Is that true?”

“It is, but I’m curious how you know of it.”

“One of my special talents, my lord, is to acquire knowledge and information that I feel could . . . in my best opinion . . . be of service to His Majesty. Are you in need of funds, my lord, to help refurbish the castle? I can secure you what you need for a very modest rate of interest.”

Ransom felt a ripple of distrust. “Thank you for your offer, Lord Chancellor, but I must decline.”

“I’m not surprised. I’m also informed about the state of your wealth. In fact, I may solicit a loan from you depending on how this war turns out. The king has asked me to summon fifty thousand livres to finance this expedition. That does not include the amount the Genevese are investing, which is sizable.”

Why was the chancellor telling him this? “I imagined it would be costly,” he said.

“There is rarely any profit to be taken in war,” said Longmont. “But do let me know if I can be of any service to you, Lord Ransom. I should consider it a particular honor if you were to ask.”

They reached the door at the end of the way, guarded by two of the king’s knights, who nodded at them as they passed. Benedict was pacing the chamber in a way that summoned a strange ripple of memory. How many times had Ransom seen the Elder King pace in this manner? The presence of the hollow crown, resting on a cushion on a small end table, only deepened the impression.

Bennett turned when he heard the noise and offered Ransom a friendly smile.

“I have brought him as you commanded. Is there anything further you require, my lord?” said Longmont with sudden meekness and deference.

“Thank you, Damian. I would speak with Sir Bryon next. Have him meet me in the solar.”

“Of course, my lord. I am your humble servant.” He bowed deeply and then exited, leaving the two of them alone.

“Are you disappointed, Ransom?” the king asked him, folding his arms and tilting his head in an inquisitive way.

“My lord?”

“Are you disappointed not to be going?” clarified the king. “I had assumed, being so newly married yourself, that you would prefer to remain here.”

Ransom clasped his hands behind his back. “I am yours to command as you wish, my lord.”

“We’re alone, Ransom. Drop the pretenses. I’ll put it more bluntly. Are you disgruntled that you aren’t coming to war? There can be no doubt as to your suitability or capability for it.”

“I am not. Not for the reason you are implying. My concern is the danger to you.”

“You speak of my half sister?”

Ransom nodded.

Benedict turned and walked to the curtained window. He looked outside, and the sunlight glinted on the streaks of gold in his hair. “I don’t know if Estian will bring her. He might. Her skills may prove useful in such a conflict.” He turned and looked at Ransom seriously. “I don’t need you as my protector, Ransom. I would have no compunction killing her if she tried to murder me.”