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

Jon-Landon looked at her with loathing. “Did you ever prevent Devon or Bennett? But I’ll obey because you are my mother, the Lady incarnate.” Emiloh stiffened but didn’t respond.

“Out,” Longmont said to Jon-Landon, having regained some composure, although his knees still wobbled.

The prince bowed to his mother, gave Ransom a look of defiance, and then strode out of the chamber. Silence hung between the three who were left, broken by Longmont. “He is ungrateful for his brother’s lenience,” he said, not really addressing either of them. “Those who betrayed the Elder King at the end were not treated unfavorably, all things considered.”

Ransom watched the queen dowager as she went back to her chair and sat. Her eyes were full of pain, one hand pressed to her chest as if to soothe her hurting heart.

“I don’t think it would be wise to send him back to Atabyrion,” Longmont continued in his ramble. “Did you hear how he criticized them? ‘Quaint’ indeed. They are a rather backwater people, but they’re fearsome warriors, and until recently they ruled most of North Cumbria. He probably didn’t find the king’s daughter pleasing enough to look at. Ungrateful . . . he could have become King of Atabyrion!”

Ransom folded his arms. “I think he’d prefer to be King of Ceredigion.”

Longmont looked at him worriedly. “Do you really think he’ll rebel, Lord Ransom?”

“He already has,” answered the queen with weariness.

“Are you suggesting we accuse him of treason now?” Longmont asked warily.

She shook her head. “Benedict could be gone for several years. If we accuse Jon-Landon of treachery, it may embolden his allies.” She sighed. “Duke Ashel is ready for war now. As long as Benedict stays in power, his influence will continue to wane. We should have treated him with more dignity.”

“Are you blaming me, Queen Dowager?” Longmont said defensively.

“I am speaking what’s on my mind. Stop taking everything as a personal slight. If we try and coddle Ashel now, he’ll see it as a sign of weakness.”

“I agree,” Ransom said. “We should order him back to East Stowe. Rebuke him for not sending word that Jon-Landon had come.”

Emiloh nodded. “You do it, Ransom.”

“I should be the one,” Longmont said, coming in between them. “It is my role as—”

Ransom’s and Emiloh’s glares silenced him.



“He’s a puffed-up prig who’s never wet his sword in battle,” Ashel growled to Ransom as they walked along the docks leading to the river. The night was cold, and the fire from the torches whipped with the wind. The roar of the falls, which could be heard almost everywhere in Kingfountain, filled their ears.

“What you say is true,” Ransom said, grateful the two of them were alone. “But you forget yourself. You’re a duke of the realm. If Estian had sent an emissary to you to plot against the Elder King, would you have kept it to yourself? No, I know you. You would have told him immediately so as not to lose the king’s trust.”

“That’s unfair,” Ashel said angrily. “Estian is an enemy of the realm. Jon-Landon is Devon’s son!”

“Aye, his favored son even. If Bennett believes Jon-Landon is a threat, do you think he’ll forgive him a second time? Because I doubt that stripling can stand up to his brother.”

Ashel scowled and turned away. “You’re right. Bennett is ruthless enough to dispose of him.”

“Is that what Devon would have wanted?”

“You’ve made your point, Ransom. Don’t bludgeon me with it.”

“Do you know why I’m here and not in Legault?”

Ashel turned his head, his eyebrows lifting. “Did the queen summon you?”

Ransom shook his head. “I’m here because Deborah sent for me the instant Jon-Landon arrived at Thorngate. And that is exactly what you should have done. Like it or no, Bennett is the king. If you don’t show him the same loyalty you gave his father, you don’t deserve your duchy.”

The censure was a sour drink, and Ashel flinched at the taste. He had the good sense to at least look abashed. “You’re right,” he acknowledged. “I was angry at him for setting me aside so quickly. Felt I deserved a place on the council. And was jealous . . . perhaps . . .” He sniffed and then looked at Ransom with respect.

He put a hand on the older man’s shoulder. “I think Jon-Landon knew that. He’ll use anyone if it serves his ends. Be careful which master you serve.”

“Aye,” said Ashel. “We’re not enemies, are we?”

Ransom shook his head. “I was hoping we’d stay on the same side,” he answered. “Stay for a day or so, and then take your knights back to East Stowe. Send word if anyone else comes to you seeking to win your allegiance.”

“I will. I promise.” He thumped his chest with the edge of his hand, giving the familiar salute.

Ransom returned the gesture and watched as Ashel walked back to the castle. He felt his Fountain magic bubbling inside him, increasing his strength. His power had always been tied to acts of loyalty.

He lingered at the dock, staring out at the river and thinking about the bodies that he had seen sent down it. First King Gervase, then the Younger King. The Elder King had been put to rest in Westmarch.

So many Argentines had died. His mission from the Fountain was to protect them, yet the survivors were so far apart, so different, it felt nearly impossible.

There was always hope that Bennett and Portia would have a child during the campaign against the East Kingdoms. Another Argentine he could end up serving.

His mind turned back to Claire and the child they would have together. What was she doing right now? Writing a letter? Staring into a hearth fire and thinking of him? His heart ached from missing her. The last thing he wished to do was return to his empty room, so he continued to walk until the chill seeped in. Only then did he make his way back.

When he reached the landing, he entered the hall and found Léa DeVaux standing by his room again, talking to Jon-Landon. Staring at him with a gleam of speculative interest in her eyes.

Jon-Landon turned and saw Ransom. He bent down and whispered something to the girl, who gaped at him in astonishment and then giggled. Ransom didn’t know what had been said, but he didn’t like what he saw.

“Good night,” Jon-Landon said to her, folding his arms and leaning back against the door of Ransom’s room as she left. Her maid could be seen in the shadows farther down the hall.

Ransom couldn’t help but give the prince a reproachful look.

“Where is your knight?” he asked Jon-Landon. The prince should not have been left alone so soon.

Jon-Landon shrugged. “I think he’s lost. Or I am.” He scratched the corner of his mouth where a little line of black stubble was growing into a goatee. “You’ve done well for yourself, Lord Ransom. You were rewarded for serving my father and even more so for serving Bennett.”

“What do you want?” Ransom asked, cutting through the nonsense.

“I just want you to think about the future,” said Jon-Landon evasively. “You’ve been to the East Kingdoms. From what I’ve heard, it’s a dangerous place. The three kings are united in a common cause, for now, but you know as well as I do that when tempers flare and disaster strikes, even allies become enemies.” He gave Ransom a meaningful look.

“I’m not your enemy.”

“I wasn’t suggesting you were. I hope we can be allies. I toss coins into the fountains each day that my brother returns safe and whole.”

It felt like a lie. Ransom frowned.

“I’m only saying that if it comes down to a choice between a child and a man, I hope you’ll choose wisely.”

“That depends,” Ransom said.

“On what?”

“On who Bennett chooses,” he answered. “Good night.”

The prince shrugged and ambled away, a little enigmatic smile on his mouth.

Ransom felt sick with dread as he opened the door to his room. A candle was already lit, and he saw a message with a wax seal on his bed. Frowning, he shut the door and walked over to it. It was Claire’s seal, and it was slightly creased at one edge. It rankled him that someone in Longmont’s Espion had read the message before he did.