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

“How did he die?” Ransom asked.

“They were crossing a river, and he fell from his horse and drowned before they could save him. The war is not popular anyway, and this could make people believe the Fountain is against it. The Brugians have already started to pull back. Estian, as I’ve seen in my vision, will forsake the conflict and return early, leaving Benedict and the Genevese to bear the brunt of it. The alliance has already fallen apart, and spring has just begun. Benedict is stubborn, though. He’ll still try to reclaim the oasis, which will delay his return.”

“And you don’t know if he will succeed?” Ransom asked.

Constance shook her head. “I don’t. What I do know is that we’ll be fighting Estian soon. The voyage should take a year, but he will be here much sooner. Without the Wizr board, we cannot win.”

Guivret gave Ransom an encouraging look. “I’m with you to the end, my lord.”

Ransom rubbed his forehead vigorously. “I’ll need to send a message to Emiloh, but the Espion keeps intercepting them. I’ll have to be careful with the wording.”

“I will send a trusted knight to deliver it in person,” Constance said.

“I do not like keeping secrets from her either,” Ransom said. “There is information I know that would be helpful to her.”

“It would be fatal if revealed,” the duchess countered. “Longmont’s Espion have tried to infiltrate Ploemeur. They pay well for information.” A thoughtful look came to her eyes, and her expression softened. “Secrets squirm inside of us. Like a chick wanting to be free of its egg. Or a moth quivering inside a seed. They want to be told. That is why the rumors about you persist, Ransom. Not because they are true, but because some thoughts itch to be shared. And then shared again.” She shook her head. “It is given to some to know the mysteries of the Fountain, but if we wish to know more of them, we must respect the gifts we’ve been given. I’ve found that if I heed the Fountain’s commands, I’m granted more information. I don’t ask for more. I accept what is freely given and act on it.”

Ransom admired her wisdom. Like a chick wanting to be free of its egg. Or a moth quivering inside a seed. The words sounded hauntingly familiar to him, but if he’d heard them before, he couldn’t remember when.

He looked at Guivret.

“I am ready to go,” the young knight said with determination.

“So am I. Yet it feels like we’re going like rabbits to a snare,” Ransom said.





Sir Axien returned with a letter from Ransom. The seal was marred, but it was written in Ransom’s hand. He says there are secrets between us. Worse, he claims Guivret fled to Brythonica. I cannot help but suspect it is a ruse, another stolen opportunity to visit the precious duchess. I wish I still had the stone, to see with my own eyes what sort of betrayal this is. I want to believe my husband. But many wives have been blind to the depravities of men.

If there is a war, if Estian truly does return soon, I may not see Ransom for a long time. Perhaps it is better this way. Perhaps I trusted too much in an unsteady nature.

Why would Guivret have stolen the stone? Was his allegiance also to another duchess? Trust is like glass, so easily broken.

—Claire de Murrow

Connaught Castle





CHAPTER NINETEEN


Threat


The barber stepped back, wiping a streak of lather from his hands with a towel. The man had a plain face and an appraising arch to his eyebrows.

“You do look more Occitanian now, my lord,” he said. “In fact, you look like another man.”

“He does,” agreed Constance, coming around and holding out a hand mirror. When Ransom took it from her, he almost dropped it. His locks had been shorn in the Occitanian style, his beard completely shaved off. He barely recognized himself. The razor had revealed a little scar on his chin and another on the edge of his jaw. He didn’t even remember when he’d earned them or how, but it had likely happened in the training yard. He handed the mirror back to Constance.

“I think it a fine job, I must say,” said the barber, bowing to the duchess. “An odd request for a knight of Ceredigion to be clean-shaven.”

“And one you must keep quiet, Matthew,” said the duchess. “Tell no one of this.”

“As you command, my lady,” said the barber, bowing again. He gave Ransom another scrutinizing look. “I bid you good day,” he said before leaving.

Guivret had already had his own shave and stood with a hand on his sword hilt. “Shall we go?”

“Two horses have been prepared for you,” said Constance. “But one thing more.” A servant had brought in a leather chest earlier, and she walked over and opened it. Inside were two black tunics.

“The color is not popular here in Ploemeur,” she said, taking them out. She handed one to Guivret and the other to Ransom. “The garments are not Occitanian, but it was the best I could do under the circumstances. Put them on.”

Ransom tugged off his tunic and struggled to put on the other, which was smaller than the one he wore. Guivret did the same.

“Maman,” said a child’s voice at the doorway. “Who are these knights come to visit?”

Constance smiled and sank down to one knee as the boy came and embraced her. She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “It is Lord Ransom and Sir Guivret, darling. Don’t you recognize them?”

The boy looked at Ransom with confusion. “Are you sure, Maman?”

“I’m quite sure,” she said, squeezing him. Then she rose. “Go swiftly,” she said, looking into Ransom’s eyes. Although she smiled, he saw something in her gaze that disturbed him. It reminded him of what she’d said about their fates being intertwined. He didn’t believe it, but she hadn’t asked him what he thought. So he just gritted his teeth in discomfort and bowed slightly.

“I will send your letter to the queen dowager with one of my trusted knights,” she said.

“I plan to return directly to Kingfountain after I’ve claimed the Wizr set,” Ransom said.

“I know.” She looked down and then forced another smile. “Farewell.”

Ransom and Guivret took their leave and rode their horses down the trail. Many of the Brythonicans they passed looked at them with curious stares, no doubt wondering what two knights of the Black Watch were doing in Ploemeur.

As they rode, Ransom’s heart darkened at the awful task ahead of them. If not for the duchess’s vision through the seering stones, he would never have imagined he’d voluntarily intrude on enemy territory with the goal of stealing a treasure from another king. What would happen if they were caught? He thought of Claire and his sons. He wanted more than anything to return to them and watch the boys grow.

“What’s to become of me, Lord Ransom?” Guivret said after they’d ridden for some time. “I’ve betrayed Lady Claire, but not out of any ill intention. If I am banished from Legault, I could bear it. But my heart would pine for Keeva.”

“And she returns your affection?” Ransom asked.

“Aye. By looks more than words. There is so much we say to each other with our eyes.”

Ransom could appreciate the feeling. “I hate seeing two people in love and unable to act on it. I understand that particular torment personally, from my long separation from Claire.”

Guivret sighed again. “You waited for her, and I’d do the same. It would be hard, but I would bear it.”

“We bear what we must,” Ransom said, eyes fixed on the road.