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

“I take it the meeting didn’t go well,” Cecily said.

He turned and leaned back against the table, resting his hands against the flat wood top. The basin quivered, the water inside trembling.

“The emissary from the East Kingdoms is Noemie Vertus,” he said flatly.

Cecily’s eyebrows rose. “The king’s sister?”

The other Espion, Terric, looked confused, but one of the knights whistled softly and shook his head.

Ransom grabbed the towel and then flung it onto the floor. “We cannot outbid them,” he said, despairing. “Even with Genevar’s help, were they willing to give it.”

“Is that what she told you?” Cecily asked.

“No,” he said. “But it’s implied. Leave me alone for a while. I need to think.” He sat on the edge of the bed, which was short and cramped compared to his own at Glosstyr.

What would he do to save his king? Anguish spread through him. He shuddered to think on it.

From the corner of his eye, he watched the knights leave, followed by Terric, but Cecily waited at the door. When the others were gone, she came back and knelt by the edge of the bed.

“Tell me,” she said.

“I’d rather not,” he muttered. But he was grateful for the kind look she gave him.

“You know of her. I’ve heard stories, Lord Ransom. But I’ve also heard that they aren’t true. And for all the people who still speak of your temporary disgrace, there are more who admire you for the loyalty you showed Devon the Younger even after he shamed and dismissed you.”

Ransom remembered watching Devon die at Beestone castle. His suffering had been terrible to behold. Noemie hadn’t been there to experience it—she’d left him after seducing another knight in his mesnie. Sir Robert Tregoss, who’d met his fate in a meadow in Brythonica.

Ransom touched his hand, and the invisible ring he wore on his finger. He thought on Constance and the secret duty he held to the lady. Had she known about Noemie’s role in the ransom auction? There had been no hint of that, only a warning that there would be other interested parties.

Yes, he decided. She’d known . . . and she’d insisted Ransom would win the negotiation. It wouldn’t be easy, she’d said, but he would win. What did it mean?

He gazed at Cecily’s face. “I must see her again,” he said softly. “She told me to return at midnight.”

“I would advise against it,” Cecily said, her look worried. “It’s most likely a trap to get you out of the way.”

“I know,” Ransom said with a chuckle. “Yet I must go. The Fountain commanded me.”

“Are you sure?” Cecily asked, her voice dripping with doubt.

Although he’d questioned it after leaving her room, overcome by the horror of what he’d agreed to, he couldn’t deny what he knew in his heart. “I know the difference,” he said. “I don’t want to do it. But I must.”

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I need some time to think.”

Cecily rose, touched him lightly on the shoulder—a gesture of comfort—and departed from the room, leaving Ransom alone with his demons.



A banquet was held in the great hall. The food was plentiful, but the noise and clatter of dishes grated on Ransom’s fraying nerves. Noemie sat there in her silver mask, her plate untouched. Gotz speared strips of meat with a two-tined fork and ate it voraciously, grease dripping into his graying beard. He glared at his guests—or at least that was how Ransom interpreted the look.

Following the meal, minstrels came to entertain the guests with music and small feats of acrobatics. Applause rocked through the overcrowded room. Ransom kept glancing at Noemie, but she was impassive behind that mask. Still, he felt that strange power radiating from her, sickening him to his core. It made him question, again, the directive to go to her. Then he thought of Benedict, alone in his prison, probably hearing the sound of the laughter and merriment from the open windows. He needed to save him.

The feast ended after dark when Gotz burped loudly, rose from his chair, and left the hall. Servants immediately began to clear up the dishes and half-eaten food. Ransom rose from his chair to leave, only for an Occitanian to bump into him. The man offered a mocking apology, and Ransom gritted his teeth to keep from punching the man in the jaw.

The stranglehold on his emotions began to lessen, and he looked up to see Noemie leaving the hall. She paused at the doorway, turning back, the silver mask flashing in the torchlight, and looked straight at him. A throb of desire chafed inside of him. It was completely unbidden, and it made him feel awful. He looked away, and then she was gone through the doorway.

Cecily approached him through the throng. “I have some news. Can we talk in one of the alcoves, where we won’t be overheard?”

He nodded in agreement. The other guests had started filing out, but they seemed in no hurry to leave. When Ransom and Cecily reached a small alcove, he gave her a look that bid her speak.

“I overheard an Occitanian knight during dinner,” she said. “This afternoon the emissary ordered one of them to return to Pree and tell Estian you’re here. He was joking that they’d carve up Ceredigion like a meat pie.”

“That’s to be expected,” Ransom said with a snort.

She shook her head. “The other knight butted him with his arm. He had a concerned look. He said that they’d best be careful to leave an heir. Or everyone in Ceredigion would drown.”

Ransom creased his eyebrows.

“I assume he was referring to the old legends of King Andrew. But he seemed in earnest. He thought it could really happen.”

It matched the stories Constance and Claire had told him. “After Benedict, there are two heirs left. Jon-Landon and the Duchess of Brythonica’s son, Andrew. The younger is held hostage in Pree.”

Cecily looked confused. “I don’t understand. Is it true? If Benedict and his brother die, does the fate of our realm hang on the life of a child?”

When she put it that way, it made his heart clench with dread. Alix could easily kill both Argentine brothers. Which would put the fate of the kingdom on Drew’s shoulders. Drew, who was in Estian’s custody. Maybe the plan was not merely to defeat Ceredigion but to destroy it.

A prickle of warning went down his back. There was more at stake than just Benedict’s life. Countless lives were at stake. Claire’s life was at stake, presuming she’d stayed in Glosstyr.

Come to me at midnight. I will tell you all.

That was the offer Noemie had made before.

“I thought those were only legends,” Cecily said, her face pinched with concern.

Ransom shook his head. “They aren’t. That’s all I can say. But that is why we must keep Benedict safe. This isn’t just about him.”

Something shifted on Cecily’s face, determination overtaking her confusion, and he knew she believed him. “Do what you must, Lord Ransom.”

He wasn’t sure what the Fountain expected of him. But he trusted the Fountain, as Constance had bid him, and he was willing to do whatever it took. After the bulk of the guests departed, Ransom bid Cecily good night and went down the stairs to the inner courtyard to be alone and watch the stars until midnight. He could see candles burning in the windows of the castle as he paced in the center of the courtyard near the huge cistern opening he’d noticed on the way to the palace. There were guards stationed on the ramparts on the castle heights, but it soon became so dark they couldn’t see him. One by one the candles began to go out.