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

“It’s good to see you, Sir Simon,” Emiloh said to him.

“I’m thankful to be back at the palace,” he said as Sir Iain left and shut the door behind him. The man would guard the room from the passageway. “I came as soon as I could after receiving your message. What is this about?”

“I’ve called you here on Ransom’s advice. We would like you to take control of the Espion. There are many messages that come in from all quarters of the kingdom. Your role will be to seek out the information we need, to pay men . . . and women . . . to provide this information, and to report the pertinent details to us. Estian is returning early from war with the East Kingdoms. Your service is needed, Sir Simon.”

She didn’t ask if he would accept the post. It was a command.

Sir Simon bowed his head. “I shall do my best to live up to your confidence in me,” he said simply, looking a little greensick.

“Good. Seek out Lord Longmont and have him educate you on how things work. When you are confident you can handle the reins, let me know so I may send him back to the Vexin. We will also accommodate your family here at the palace. Bring them from Glosstyr whenever you are ready.”

“As you command, Your Highness,” Simon replied. “Thank you.”

Emiloh glanced at Ransom. “Get some food. I don’t think I want to upset things with Brythonica at this point. But I will think on what you said. We can speak about it later.”

“Very well,” Ransom said. He nodded to her and then suggested that Simon join him in the kitchen.

“Thank you,” said his friend.

As they started down the corridor together, Ransom put his arm around Simon’s shoulders. “You seem concerned. What is it, old friend?”

“The new position suits me, I suppose. Information has always had a way of finding me. I don’t seek it out . . . it just comes.”

“Do you have news?” Ransom asked.

He nodded, his eyes wide with worry. “Your wife is preparing to attack the duchy of Bayree.”





This is no game. I do not treat it as such. I have nothing but cold determination to punish our foes.

A Genevese trader arriving in Atha Kleah said Occitanian warships have been ordered to defend the coast. I’ve also heard that Estian is back in Pree and has summoned his knights and dukes to attend him. No one knows how he accomplished it, but he did. There are whispers that it was some sort of black magic, and some of his men were left behind, but there is no way of knowing. War is coming regardless of what we do, but I will not wait for it to come to us.

A letter came from Ransom. Does he believe fair words will placate me? Will not the hornet sting when its nest is troubled?

—Claire de Murrow

Atha Kleah

(the reed song is sung)





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR


Moving Pieces


Weary from another restless night, Ransom walked into the main hall in his riding armor. The hall was full and brimming with the noise and smells of the morning meal—oat bread, cabbage, carrots, and fruit. Soon the men who were gathered here would ride off to war. They were just awaiting orders—his orders—about where to go. If only the Wizr board showed what Estian was planning rather than what he was currently doing.

“Lord Ransom, a ship arrived from Atha Kleah this morning,” said a servant. He handed a letter to Ransom, who instantly recognized his estranged wife’s handwriting. How many days had it been since he left Legault? The days had begun to swim together, but each letter he’d received from Claire had heightened his concern about their fraying relationship.

He thanked the servant and was about to lift the wax seal when James Wigant approached him. Ransom’s stomach soured. He was in no mood to suffer the man’s disrespectful attitude.

“The supply wagons heading to Glosstyr were attacked last night,” James said by way of greeting. “That Fountain-cursed rogue with a hood killed four men and made off with two of the wagons in the dark.”

“I haven’t even had breakfast yet, James. You’ve ruined my appetite.”

“I thought you should know, of course, but I want your permission to gather two hundred men to hunt that coddling moth down and squish him beneath my boot. This has gone on long enough!”

Ransom sighed. “I don’t have two hundred men to spare,” he said. “Nor do I need you off hunting a man you’ve been trying to capture for so long already. How did he get away with wagons? Surely a rider could outrun them?”

“The wagons were emptied and then pushed into the river and found downstream, dashed against the rocks. They were worth more than the cargo they carried, food and weapons for the upcoming war. He’s growing bolder with his attacks. Give me two hundred—”

“I don’t have two hundred!” Ransom snapped, barely able to keep his temper in check. “Take fifty. But I can’t spare you for more than a fortnight. I need your army from Dundrennan down in Blackpool as agreed.”

“And leave Dundrennan defenseless?”

“Surely you left a garrison,” Ransom said, exasperated.

“I did, but I’m worried those knaves from Atabyrion will take advantage of the situation while I’m gone. I don’t want to have to win that castle back like my father did.”

Ransom wondered whether the request to hunt Ryain Hood was merely an excuse for James to straddle the fence of loyalty. To give him a cause to be away when his soldiers were needed most.

Ransom held his gaze. “You’ll have them at Blackpool as agreed. No excuses.”

“Of course—I’m no fool to counter the mighty will of Duke Barton. One thing more and you can get your breakfast.” He dropped his voice lower. “Master Hawkes continues to remind me that my land and title are at risk of going to the crown because I have no heir. As if I needed his somber assessment of my situation. When the king returns from the East, I intend to ask him for Lady Constance of Brythonica.”

It sickened Ransom to think of such a match, but he didn’t let the feeling show on his face. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked.

“Obviously because I don’t want you to thwart it,” he said. “Surely you won’t begrudge me the chance of marrying someone of my own rank. We’re not enemies anymore, Ransom.”

Ransom looked him in the eye. “Prove it. Have your men at Blackpool as agreed.”

James gave him a hopeful look. “And you’d take that as a sign of my sincerity?”

“I would indeed.”

“And you wouldn’t block me from asking for Lady Constance?”

Again he felt the wrongness of such a match. “I’m not the one you’d need to convince.”

James nodded and walked away. Ransom maneuvered through the crowd for the food trays and helped himself to some cheese and bread. He noticed that there was a slight depression in the wax seal of Claire’s letter. Had it been tampered with? He opened the letter in frustration and read the short message quickly.

Lord husband,

Do not censure me for my course of action. I am the rightful ruler of Legault, and it is my decision to make. You’ve made it clear your loyalties are tied to the fate of the court of Kingfountain. I have a duty to my own people. There is a saying in the Fair Isle. “Reverence ceases once blood is spilled.” I will avenge Keeva’s death and the threat made against our sons. It shall be blood for blood.

Written on High Day,

Claire de Murrow, Queen of Legault

He almost crumpled the letter in his fist out of pure frustration, but he managed to keep his temper in check. Eyes were everywhere in the palace, and the last thing he wished to do was gain the attention of one of the Espion. He took some more bread from one of the serving tables, glancing around the room full of strangers, and his eyes briefly landed on the Espion woman he’d caught in his room.