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

“We’ll go to the fortress at first light,” he said. “But arrange for horses so we can be on our way immediately.”

“What about a carriage? I could arrange for two of those.”

Ransom shook his head. “Horses. We’ll make better time.”

Longmont clenched his fists and squared his jaw. “If you say so, Lord Ransom. One of my men can make the arrangements in the morning. We can ride the horses to the fortress too.”

Ransom nodded. “But try not to tug on the reins too hard, Damian. Neither horses nor men care to be yanked around.”

“I see,” Longmont said with a curled lip. “I’m going to rest in my room for a while.”

Ransom continued to walk above deck, waiting and watching, until the sun began to brighten the eastern sky. Additional ships floated into the harbor, chasing away the silence of night. Ransom saw Longmont climb the steps leading to the helmsman’s post. He stood there, conversing with the man, hands on his hips. A little while later, another man jogged down the planks to enter the city to make the arrangements.

As the noise on the dock increased, Ransom felt the uneasy sensation that all was not as it should be. Another man from the crew walked down the gangway. Then another. Ransom marched to the helmsman’s ladder and quickly climbed it. Longmont had his back to him, the thick velvet hat bedecked with a single ostentatious ostrich feather.

“Too many of your men are leaving,” Ransom said. “I thought you were sending one.”

“I did send one,” replied a voice that wasn’t Longmont’s, although it tried to be.

Ransom grabbed the man’s shoulder and spun him around. It was someone else, wearing Longmont’s clothes. The man’s eyes blazed with fear at Ransom’s sudden look of anger.

“When did he go?” Ransom demanded.

“He was the first to leave. I’m sorry, my lord! I’m sorry!”

Ransom whirled around to look at the wharf. But it was crowded with people, and it would be impossible to discern which were Longmont’s men.

“Do you know where he went?”

The man shook his head. “He wouldn’t tell me.”

Ransom went to one of the other knights. “Go get us some horses. We need to ride.”

“Aye, my lord,” said the knight.

Ransom looked around the deck for Cecily, but there was no sign of her. He was angry he’d been duped, especially since the trick Longmont had played on him was the same one he was attempting to play on Estian.

He went to his room and wrote a letter to Emiloh, informing her of Longmont’s treachery, but he halted before sealing it. His intention had been to write to Claire too, to inform her of his safe arrival. But if he sent the ship back to Kingfountain, one of the sailors might reveal Ransom’s presence in Brugia. Time was also a critical issue. He couldn’t wait for a response—he had to get to the king quickly, especially with Longmont running about, potentially causing trouble. Thankfully, because of Constance, he already knew where the king was being kept. So he might as well head straight there.

A knock landed on the door before he could dispose of the letter, and Cecily entered with a hard expression.

“Did you know?” he asked her.

“No. Or I would have warned you. I think Longmont suspected me because I hadn’t told him about you.”

“We can’t stay here.”

“I know. A message just arrived from Longmont.” She handed him a letter, and he quickly unfolded it.

Lord Ransom,

I mean no disrespect, but I’ve decided to go ahead and try and rescue the king. While you are a capable soldier and warrior, your skills of negotiation are untested for such an important mission. I bear you no resentment for deceiving me and hope you will return the favor. I’ve learned that the king is being kept at Schveriner castle in the middle of Schveriner Lake. It’s the least I could do to at least help you on your journey. But if you would hearken to my advice, since you so freely dispense it yourself, I suggest you return to Kingfountain and do what you do best and counter Estian’s invasion. Protect our people.

Courteously,

Damian Longmont,

High Justiciar of Ceredigion

“Did he say where he was going?” Cecily asked him.

Ransom nodded and ripped the paper to pieces, throwing them into the bin. “And either he was misled, or he’s misleading us again. I think I’m going to wring his neck.”

“I can contact the Espion here in Callait to see if anyone knows where he went,” she suggested. “I need some time, though.”

“I know where we’re going,” Ransom said. “We’re riding for the Wartburg.”

Her eyes widened with surprise and recognition.

“Did you know the king was there?” Ransom asked.

“No. The master of that castle has a reputation. His name is Lord Gotz. The Iron Hand.”

“What do you know about him?”

“He lost his hand during the war with us many years ago. The iron one is prosthetic. He hates Ceredigion.”

Ransom’s heart sank at the news. He was still furious at Longmont for escaping. But that wouldn’t stop him. He would try anyway. He had to.





I have not heard from Ransom since he arrived in Callait several days ago. I know he is deep inside Brugia right now—but where? I don’t know enough about the Brugians, their language, or their customs. Are they an honorable people? They do not worship the Lady of the Fountain, although I understand they have permitted a few sanctuaries to exist for foreigners. Since their king died, they have experienced great turmoil within, with different factions vying for control. Unlike Occitania and Ceredigion, there is no hereditary right to rule. The strongest warlords prevail, but few are strong enough to pass power down to the next generation.

Sir Dawson stayed in Glosstyr for a day and then rode to Beestone castle. After the reinforcements arrived, the Occitanians besieging the city lost heart. They continue to launch against the walls but not with the same intensity. Sir Dawson will test the defenses of Josselin next to see if the castle is still heavily guarded.

Jon-Landon has declared that his brother is dead, and he is the rightful king. Duke Ashel supports him. Duke James is wavering, trying to hold off on making a decision. If Benedict returns, those who rally to Jon-Landon will be punished. If he does not, then those who didn’t support Jon-Landon will be considered traitors. There are many in Kingfountain who want the stability of a king—one who’s here—and they do not know Benedict lives. If they rise up in revolt, then Emiloh will be forced to abandon the city. Everything teeters on a knifepoint as we await news from my dear husband. Every day without a message adds to my worries. And every day the babe in my belly squirms more strongly. I think she’s a girl. I don’t know why. But how I want him to be home before she comes.

—Claire de Murrow

Glosstyr

Perilous days





CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE


The Wartburg


It was a three-day ride to the Wartburg in the hinterlands of Brugia. Ransom was accompanied by two knights, Cecily, and a “servant” named Terric who was actually part of the Espion in Brugia. Cecily wore the gown of a noblewoman, something that had allowed them to continue the ruse Ransom was just a regular castle guard. Ransom pushed their horses hard, trying to overtake Longmont and his allies, but there was no sign of them on the road, and he realized his determination to catch up with them was exceeded by theirs to arrive first. Presuming, of course, Longmont had correctly learned where the king was being held.