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

“You were not deceived so much as influenced by a stronger power,” Ransom said, speaking of Lady Alix. “You could have left the oasis when Estian did.”

“True. I could have. But I believed in our mission, not just to secure trade routes but to protect our people. It was a calamity from the start, but I don’t begrudge going there. I curse my own folly in how I was caught.” Benedict squeezed his hands into fists and shook them. Then he walked to the wall and planted a fist on the barren stone.

“Were you betrayed by one of your men?” Ransom asked with concern.

“No, I betrayed myself,” Benedict said. “I traveled in disguise as a common knight. But I forgot to remove my royal ring before we reached Brugia. A serving lass saw it and told the innkeeper, who sent for the guard. We were rounded up before we had a chance to draw our swords.”

Ransom shook his head. “I’m sorry, my lord. Sometimes it is the small details that can save or sink us.”

“Don’t I know it. I’m grateful you are here, Ransom, but I worry about what will happen in your absence. Estian’s Wizr set will show him your piece is no longer on the board. Who else can better defend my realm from treachery?”

Ransom smiled. “He doesn’t have it.”

Benedict turned his head to Ransom, giving him a quizzical look. “What do you mean? Not even his privy council knows where he keeps it hidden.”

“I went to Pree with one of my knights and retrieved it. His poisoner kept it in a place only another Fountain-blessed could reach. I was led there by the Fountain, although I lost my knight as a hostage.”

The king’s jaw dropped. “That was entirely reckless, Ransom, but who am I to condemn you for the very sin that landed me here?” He grinned and stroked his unkempt beard. “He is furious, I am sure. So we have the board?”

“Your mother, specifically. Jon-Landon was apprised of it—”

“To what purpose?” Benedict snarled.

Ransom held up his hands. “The pieces can only be used by one of the heirs on either side, or so it seems. I can’t budge the pieces, although I can look at them and glean information from where they’re positioned. That leaves you, your nephew, and your brother as the only ones who can influence the game directly on our side.”

“Then why not use Drew? I would much rather trust Constance’s loyalty than my brother’s.”

“That wasn’t an option, Bennett. Estian abducted the boy shortly after he returned to Occitania. He is using the child to claim your throne at the moment and has given Brythonica independence of fealty from either side so long as the duchess remains neutral.”

Benedict’s cheeks flushed. He turned and slammed his fist into the wall, which made Ransom wince.

“I’m sorry. I said I could bear bad news. We’ve lost Brythonica. What of the Vexin? Please tell me my duchy is still loyal to me?”

Ransom sighed, and the king’s eyebrows lifted.

“It gets worse and worse,” the king muttered. “Go on. Say it.”

“Your mother has been fighting to keep your kingdom intact, but DeVaux has formed an alliance with Jon-Landon. His daughter—”

“Isn’t she but a child?”

Ransom paused. He saw the Argentine temper showing through. Of all the Elder King’s sons, Benedict was the most similar to him in temperament. Only he was far less shrewd.

“I’m sorry,” Benedict said. “Go on.”

“Because we had the Wizr board, I knew where Jon-Landon went when he escaped confinement. Lord DeVaux had stopped at Averanche on the way back to the Vexin. He’d met with the prince in secret, and I found the two young people walking hand in hand by the surf.”

“He’s trying to steal the Vexin from me as well,” Benedict said, his voice throbbing with wrath. Ransom was too circumspect to remind him that he’d given control of the duchy back to his mother. Like Devon, he had trouble relinquishing power.

“DeVaux is trying to steal it,” Ransom said. “And your kingdom, as well, through his daughter. I’ve never liked the man.”

The king chuckled darkly. “No, I didn’t imagine you would.” He leaned back against the wall and thumped his skull against it. “I’ve thought of you, Ransom, while I’ve been in here. I was but a lad when you were captured by DeVaux and held for . . . for ransom, obviously. One that my mother willingly paid to free you, once she learned you were alive. I thought of your injuries, your shattered leg, and how you were forced to bandage it yourself, nearly bleeding to death in the process.” He shook his head. “Your story has given me strength. It’s helped me go on when my doubts threatened to unman me. Surely this confinement,” he said, gesturing toward the room, “is not as harsh as what you endured for so many months. And yet . . .” He hung his head and fell silent.

Ransom hadn’t expected such a confession. He saw the shadows of anguish in Benedict’s soul. The confinement had impacted him deeply. It had given him a new depth of character.

A sense of deep conviction burned through Ransom’s very soul: he had to free Benedict from this prison. The loyalty he felt to the king stoked the Fountain magic inside him to new heights.

Benedict turned and looked at the brazier. “I’ve realized I’m not as strong as I once thought. When I consider what my mother suffered, being confined to that tower for years, my courage falters. I’d rather throw myself off this mountain instead of enduring such a long confinement. I regret . . .” He paused, his voice thickening. Ransom watched his lips twitch as the emotions he felt for his mother consumed him. “I regret not doing more for her,” he ended in a near whisper. “If my suffering is only a tithe compared to what she endured, I don’t know how she bore it for so long.”

Ransom agreed. Emiloh was a force to be reckoned with. So was Claire, who’d borne the captivity beside her. “She has an indomitable will, my lord. Her own suffering, in her youth, helped her endure it.”

The king blinked and brushed away a tear. “You speak of King Lewis . . . what he did to her. You’re right. I’d neglected to reflect on that aspect. Her character was forged in a hot furnace.”

“You are made of the same stock,” Ransom said reassuringly.

Benedict let out a heavy sigh. “I hope so.” He turned and gave Ransom a fierce look. “Get me out of here. Whatever the cost. How much is Gotz asking for now?”

Ransom looked abashed. “Someone has come from the East Kingdoms. A woman with a silver mask.”

The king blanched. “So it is not just Estian who is bidding for me? I know many from that court shield their faces. It is said their beauty drives men mad, but those are just rumors . . . boasts.”

“The lady has offered to pay a hundred and fifty thousand livres for you.”

For a moment, the king was stunned silent. “You mean fifty thousand?”

“No. I’m afraid I meant what I said.”

“I am . . . astonished,” Benedict said. “Who but someone from the East Kingdoms could afford to pay such a ransom? Surely not even Estian would match it, and he’s the wealthiest of us all.”

“Would not your father-in-law contribute?”

Benedict’s shoulders slumped. “Possibly? Lady Portia and I . . . it has not been easy for either of us. We didn’t even meet before the wedding. It was a strategic match, and I trusted my mother’s instincts. But there is no feeling between us.” He shook his head in disappointment. “Did she even return to Kingfountain?” When Ransom shook his head no, the king nodded glumly. “I’m not surprised. The doge would contribute, I think, but not to such a ghastly sum.” Benedict began stroking his beard again and leaned back against the stone wall. “It’s a strange thing, Ransom. They have such beautiful things over there—spices, gemstones, and cloth dyed in such a way the colors don’t bleed or fade. Everyone wants something they produce. But they only want our gold and our silver. I’ve heard the palaces in some of the larger cities are so inlaid with gold they shine like the sun. They melt down our gold and silver into jewelry that they wear. Necklaces, bracelets, crowns, anklets, earrings, navel rings—I jest not. Yes, they can afford a hundred and fifty thousand livres.”