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

“And?”

“Only silence.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “It’s been very hard. I didn’t mean to burden you with my cares.”

“Who else could you have shared it with?” Ransom asked.

She smiled and looked away. “Sir Terencourt advised my father. I used to confide in him. He became like a second father to me.”

“I understand. My own father never cared much for me, but King Gervase was like a father to me, and so was Lord Kinghorn.” He was silent for a moment, then added, “Lord Kinghorn is dead.”

Constance met his gaze, her eyes full of sadness. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. Although I didn’t see him in the vision of Benedict, I assumed he’d been ordered to bring the soldiers back. He was so kind, so in tune with the Fountain.”

Ransom sat down, his back against the balcony wall. He rested his arm on a bent knee, grief rising within him like a tidal wave. It felt like his moorings had come undone and he was drifting in an endless sea. Then he felt Constance touch his gauntlet. He looked at her, feeling utterly miserable.

“I think you’re right,” she said. “Let us petition the Fountain together. Shall we not try, at least?”

“I have a coin, I think,” Ransom said. “Is there a fountain nearby? There is, isn’t there?”

She smiled and shook her head. “It’s not like that, Ransom. The Fountain hears our prayers without coins. Let me . . . let me teach you.” Kneeling next to him, she placed both of her soft hands atop his gauntleted ones. Then she bowed her head, an act of submission and reverence. “Oh, please help us in this dark hour,” she pleaded gently. “Ransom and I have chosen to serve. To do your will. But the path that lies ahead is masked with shadows, and we cannot see our way. We need guidance.”

As she spoke, Ransom felt the Fountain magic within him ripple. Her words were doing it. It wasn’t just her words, though. It was her meekness, her quiet strength, her character.

“I feel you,” she went on, her voice thick with emotion. “Please be a comfort to my poor son too. He’s in a strange place, so far away from us who love him. Watch over him. And, if you would, please help this brave knight endure what he must. Let . . . let the weight fall on me, not on him.” She sobbed as she said it, and Ransom felt his heart stretch into an unfamiliar shape. Tears trickled down his cheeks as he listened to her petition the Fountain on his behalf when her pain was the greater one. “If ever I did anything worthy in your sight, let that be my reward. I would be willing to give up any blessing in the Deep Fathoms for this man’s sake.”

He sat there, dumbfounded. The worry and despair that had festered in him had been checked by a greater power, and the sense of peace he felt was indescribable. Her hands, atop his, had become an anchor.

Ransom stared at her and could have sworn the stars made her face glow. She looked into his eyes, weeping softly, and then lifted his gauntlet to her lips and kissed the metal.

“How did you . . . do that?” he asked her, still feeling the settled peace of the Fountain within his heart. It continued long after her prayer was done.

“It’s not what I was intending to say,” she answered. “It’s what needed to be said. Sometimes the voice of the Fountain teaches us the right words. What we should ask for.” She kissed his hand again. “Never forget this moment, Ransom. Never doubt that we both felt the presence of the Fountain here.”

“But your son . . .” he started to say.

“I’ve prayed for him. That’s all I can do. I must trust in the Fountain’s blessings. And so must you.”

She cupped one of her hands atop his. “If we never see each other again, I want you to make me a promise. If you see Drew before I do, remind him of me. And stand by him until we meet again, even if it’s in the Deep Fathoms. And I promise thee, Ransom Barton, that if I see him first, I’ll remind him that you were his protector, and we will watch for you constantly until you come.”

Her words seemed to come from a source deeper inside herself. It filled him with foreboding. “Will we not see each other again?”

She looked him in the eye. “I don’t know. I said what I felt.”

Slowly, she rose to her feet and helped, in her small way, for him to rise as well.

“I see now why I was supposed to summon you tonight,” she said. “We both needed comfort and strength. I couldn’t ask for you earlier because Emiloh has kept vigilant watch on the Wizr board. I didn’t want her to see you come here and then ask you questions you could not truthfully answer. I’ll send you back now. The news will be coming soon. Be ready for it. You are the one who will secure Benedict’s release.” She shook her head slowly. “But at great cost. Stay faithful to him. I believe in you.”

The peace was still in his heart. He swallowed and nodded to her.

She released his hands and whispered, “Farewell.”

When the magic struck him and sent him flying away, he landed in the spot he’d left, with Dappled still nickering softly by the tree. His strength nearly failed him, and he slumped down to his knees again, breathing fast and hard.

And realized that he would never see the Duchess of Brythonica again.





I have not written in this book in over a year. I do not seek to make excuses, but the babe squirming inside me has made me sicker this time if that were possible. The leaves have turned a bright red, and storms brew in the sea. I shall need to leave Glosstyr soon, for I wish all my children to be born on the Fair Isle.

Our lads have visited several times, in the lulls between battles. As much as we wish to have them with us constantly, their safety must be our primary concern. They’re not old enough to understand another babe is growing inside me, but both are fascinated by my growing belly. Soon it will be unsafe to travel back and forth like this. The only question remaining is whether my sons’ father will be coming with us for the winter.

Word has reached us of King Benedict’s truce with the East Kingdoms, although no knights have returned yet. He departed before them, in secret, to defend his realm. But there has been no word. Some at court fear he was shipwrecked. Others say he was captured. Ransom feels in his heart that the king was likely captured and is being held prisoner somewhere, but Jon-Landon is insistent his brother is dead and that he should be made king. Estian backs up that claim, but he insists Andrew Argentine, the Elder King’s grandson, be named king. This, he says, is why he attacks Ceredigion.

Thus three rival factions disrupt the peace in Ceredigion. Jon-Landon from East Stowe is trying to win support as king, although he has not yet openly rebelled. Estian attacks us from Westmarch and constantly raids our lands. And Ransom is caught in the middle, trying to hold the kingdom together to buy time for Benedict. His castle in Josselin is lost, but he negotiated the release of the villagers in exchange for the knights they’d captured. A man and his family for one knight. Estian accepted and those released were brought to shelter in Glosstyr.

I am in charge of the defense of Glosstyr, with Dearley’s help, and we’ve had to send forces to block further incursions set loose on us from Josselin. When Ransom isn’t here, he writes me often, more so than he used to. We no longer care if our letters are intercepted. The situation changes constantly because of Estian’s determination to seize more land.

I no longer have premonitions about Ransom and the Duchess of Brythonica. Those ended with that strange dream of them on a balcony. The duchess has promised to marry an Occitanian nobleman, Lord Montfort. He will be her lord consort, not Duke of Brythonica, and the protector of the duchy. Their marriage will seal the independence of Brythonica as its own sovereign duchy. Maybe it is because of the marriage that my worries concerning her have lessened.

—Claire de Murrow

Glosstyr

(A winter in peace?)





CHAPTER THIRTY


The Intrigues of Men