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

“I don’t see anything in there but coins,” Guivret said worriedly after joining him.

Ransom’s stomach twisted. Even though he couldn’t see anything, he felt a presence. Taking off his glove, he dipped his hand into the water. It was cool to the touch. Memories of the oasis came to him, and he recalled how he had found his scabbard in the well. By touch, not sight. He plunged his hand into the water and felt a box or case of some kind. Groping his hand across the surface, he discovered a handle. He tugged with all his might, and a box emerged from the waters. Guivret gazed at it in shock.

“Blessed Lady,” he murmured.

Ransom stood with the box, which was surprisingly heavy, then unlatched it and peered inside. A sigh escaped him. It was the Wizr set they sought, but how were they going to get it out of the palace before the sexton raised the alarm? He latched it shut again.

“Come on,” Ransom said, and they walked back to the chapel door. The knight they’d left just inside was already groaning, struggling to rise. Guivret hit him again, and they left the chapel—closing the door behind them—and started down the corridor. Ransom’s heart thundered in his chest. If they could get off the palace grounds quickly, it would be easier to escape the city. But it was still a long ride to the border, and he expected to be chased.

A prickle of awareness went down his back as they reached the end of the corridor. He felt Alix’s presence in the chapel behind him, appearing out of nothingness. Although he didn’t understand how she did it, she had the power to travel long distances through the waters. He had a strong sense of her presence, and he was keenly aware that she could sense him too.

“What is it?” Guivret asked in concern.

“Run!” Ransom barked.





I spent most of the morning today striking targets with my bow. My arms and fingers hurt from the strain, but it felt good to be outside again and away from the squalling children. They are often so sweet tempered, but every now and then they choose to raise an unholy storm. The exercise did some good. There is some satisfaction to be gained from piercing a hay bale at fifty paces. Yet even the splendor of archery couldn’t dispel the dark mood that continues to plague me. I’m angry that what was mine was stolen. My anger frightens me. It runs very, very deep.

—Claire de Murrow, Daughter of Richard Archer Connaught Castle





CHAPTER TWENTY


The Poisoner


Almost as soon as he sensed the presence of Lady Alix, he felt the first pangs of a summons from the Gradalis. He had never been able to stop it before, and he realized with frustration that he and Guivret would soon be separated.

They both turned the corner and rushed down the corridor, but the smell of cooking food wafting down the hallway told him he’d gone the wrong way.

“This isn’t the right passage,” he said, halting. Guivret stopped with him, and they doubled back to the corridor they’d left. They were running, but it didn’t feel fast enough. “I feel the summons, Guivret. I think the duchess is trying to draw me out.”

Guivret blanched. “That means I won’t be going with you.”

Could he bring him if they were touching? Ransom had been able to bring his horse, so it was possible he could take another man. And yet . . . if he tried and failed, the result would be deadly for Guivret. It was too great a risk. His mind tumbled with thoughts and fears as they reached the junction of the corridor. Ransom heard the sound of racing footsteps, and when he looked down the corridor as they passed it, he saw Alix coming toward them at a dead run, a dagger in her hand. She raised her arm to throw it, but they made it across the gap.

They put on a burst of speed, but so did Alix, and he sensed her getting closer with every stride. He needed to get her away from Guivret. If he lured her into one of the towers, Guivret might have time to escape through the palace gardens.

Ransom didn’t have time to convince him—he just raced toward the tower he knew best, the one where Devon the Younger had once stayed. Slowing as they reached it, he gripped Guivret by the shoulder forcefully, his other hand clenched around the handle of the chest with the Wizr set. Sweat trickled down his cheek, and his breath came fast.

“Go that way,” he said, nodding down the hallway. “There’s a door at the end that leads out to the palace gardens. Hide there and try to escape the island.”

“I’ll not abandon you until I know you’re safe,” Guivret said, shaking his head.

“The duchess is summoning me. I’ll be able to escape. I fear for you—”

Lady Alix was about to turn the corner.

“Go!” Ransom said, propelling the young knight ahead. He grabbed the handle of the door, and when it didn’t immediately open, Ransom smashed his shoulder into it. He ducked inside just as a dagger thunked into the wooden frame. He heard Guivret’s boots pounding down the corridor.

Ransom gritted his teeth, holding the chest close, and started running up the stone stairs. Light beamed in from arrow slits along the wall. He took the steps two at a time, hoping his longer stride would increase the gap between them. The stairs wound around in a circle, which would make it harder for her to hit him.

A dagger hit the back of his leg, sinking into his muscle. A tingle of pain shot up his back, and he slumped forward, nearly dropping the box. He caught himself on his forearm, the stone biting into him. He grunted in pain. And he soon felt the poison begin to weave through his blood.

“How did you know it was there?” Alix demanded, huffing as she climbed the steps. He saw her draw another dagger. The look of cunning and rage on her face made his stomach turn. His leg and buttock grew numb. He rolled onto his back and plucked out the dagger from his leg.

“You were foolish to come here,” she said, drawing closer. “But I have questions you must answer. I can make you tell me things, Ransom. I can make you confess your secrets.”

He tried to stand up, but his one leg was useless. He threw the dagger back at her, but she sidestepped it, and the blade clattered uselessly against the wall and then tumbled down the stairs. He felt the tingle of the summons increase, but the magic didn’t sweep him away. Would it happen too late? He tightened his grip on the handle of the chest.

She lunged at him then, knocking him back against the steps, and brought the dagger to his throat. “Don’t think I will show you any mercy,” she said, nicking him with the blade. Then she looked down at his neck, her eyes widening with surprise. “You’re not bleeding.”

Her eyes shot down to the glowing Raven scabbard.

Ransom punched her in the ribs as hard as he could. He heard her gasp in pain, and then she was stabbing him, the knife coming down again and again. Pain bloomed from a gash on his cheek, then another on his forearm as he raised it to block the blows. Then his chest. Her face was a twisted mask of hatred and revenge as she plunged her dagger into him again and again.

Guivret tackled her into the wall, and the two bodies became entangled. Ransom didn’t know why the knight hadn’t used his sword on her, but it was still in the scabbard. Pain had made his thoughts sluggish, and he watched as Alix elbowed Guivret in the nose, grabbed his wrist, and torqued his arm so hard the young man shrieked in pain before going face-first into the wall and then slumping down.

Ransom rocked forward, trying to support himself with his good leg despite the numbing, paralyzing poison that was stripping him of his strength. He hefted the chest, prepared to swing it around and hit Alix with it.

And then he was plummeting, the magic taking him away just as Alix turned to look at him. Her shriek of rage mingled with the rush of the falls and the terrifying sensation of falling.