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

“I’m sure you have your reasons. Loyalty probably isn’t one of them.”

James snorted. “Never. Farthest thing from my mind.” He chuckled. “I’ve bet against you before, Ransom, and lost every throw. I’ll admit that switching sides to Jon-Landon would seem, on the surface, to be to my own advantage. And now that I’ve heard you’ve squandered a hundred fifty thousand livres, I’m more right than I knew. That’s a fortune, Ransom. Thankfully, paying it may not be as difficult as you think.”

Ransom glanced at James in surprise.

“Remember that brigand who has been stealing from everyone?”

“Ryain Hood?”

“Yes, that rascal. Well, I finally caught him. I’ve spared his life so far because he has, or so he’s promised, close to fifty thousand livres hidden away in various caches. Some here and others in Legault. He’s in irons in Dundrennan right now. I haven’t even told the queen dowager yet.”

“I’m surprised you’re telling me,” Ransom said with a feeling of wonder. He’d feared the time they’d been allotted might not be enough for them to secure the appropriate loans. This news was truly a miracle worthy of the Fountain.

“I’m not your enemy, Ransom. I hope this proves it.” He smiled wryly. “I would have told you as much months ago, but I knew my word would mean less than nothing. So instead I tried to show you. Once again, you’ve dodged death, overcome storms, and managed to arrive when you were needed most. If you are truly Fountain-blessed, then I want to be on your side. Or at least not against you.”

Ransom remembered his past encounters with James. He still didn’t fully trust him, and there’d been many occasions when he would have gladly throttled him. But having the North on his side was not an unwelcome proposition.

“I have enemies enough. If we both support Benedict, we can bring peace to Ceredigion that might actually last.”

“A truce, then, if you will,” said James. “I’ll take it. I suppose now isn’t the best time to tell you that I might be marrying your sister?”

The news was so sudden that Ransom wondered if he’d heard correctly. “How did this come about? She’s the king’s ward, and he’s been absent for over two years.”

“Ah, yes. I see by your expression you aren’t entirely thrilled with the prospect, but hear me out. It was your brother’s idea, actually. While you were gone and Jon-Landon began his treason, Marcus thought it might be beneficial to secure my allegiance through . . . softer means. I am unmarried still, and while I respect Lady Deborah, she’s a bit too old for me. Many of the other heiresses are too young. Maeg is not displeasing to the eye, and as I understand it, she is available.”

Ransom knew her heart was set on marrying Sir Kace, and Ransom himself had encouraged the match. The thought of James marrying his sister made him agitated. But he also saw the possible benefits.

“I know she’s the king’s ward and all,” James continued in an offhanded manner, but Ransom could tell he was serious. He wanted this. “He could say no and give her to someone else, like Sir Kiskaddon. But . . . he might feel more inclined to be agreeable if I were to provide a substantial part of the ransom that liberates him. I’ll let you think on it anyway. Let’s upset this wedding. That should be fun.”

He smiled in response, and they made their way into the courtyard, where rain continued to pelt the beasts and splash on the cobblestones and puddles. The knights who’d been ordered to accompany them were already congregating. Once their small host was assembled, they left the palace at a gallop and rode down the hillside to the bridge gate. The order was given to open it, and the portcullis was raised with a loud clacking of winches and cranks. Soldiers heaved against the doors to open them, and the knights rode across the bridge.

A huge crowd had gathered, mostly onlookers to the event, and they parted as the horsemen approached them, many looking fearfully at the knights as if expecting them to draw swords.

When they reached the gate of the sanctuary, they were met by a rain-spattered knight wearing a tunic with Duke Ashel’s badge. Several other knights joined him, and they all blocked the way forward.

“Ho, there!” the knight said angrily. “What’s this about? You can’t come in.”

“And you’re going to stop us?” James said over the noise of the storm and the violence of the falls. “Don’t you recognize us? This is Lord Ransom, the high protector! I’m the duke of the North. Stand aside, you fool.”

The knight turned and looked up at Ransom and then did a double take. “M-my lord!”

Ransom didn’t even speak to him but nudged his horse forward, and the knights quickly backed off to let them through. Water gushed from the spouts of the sanctuary, coming down like waterfalls so that the entire structure seemed an extension of the massive falls thundering beyond the bridge.

They rode their horses onto the sanctuary grounds, beyond the pools of the fountains, which leaped with agitation as they were struck by the rain. Some onlookers had gathered on the steps of the sanctuary, but the doors were shut. Ransom and James and their knights dismounted and then strode up the steps.

When they reached the top, Ransom and James pulled the double doors open, one on each side. Warmth from the interior came rushing out to greet them, along with the smell of candles and torch smoke. Many nobles and dignitaries had gathered for the ceremony.

Jon-Landon and Léa DeVaux stood at the far end of the sanctuary, the deconeus between them. All faces had turned at the intrusion, and Ransom and James walked in steadily, their clothes dripping and their boots making little squeals as the leather brushed the polished marble of the black and white squares. Murmurs began immediately when they were recognized.

Jon-Landon’s face went dark with bridled rage, while Léa took his hand and sidled closer. A quick glance at the front row of guests revealed Lord DeVaux, his face blanched with terror. Lord Ashel was also present, wearing a rich tunic and fur-lined cape. He gave Ransom a wary look.

The deconeus gathered himself. “Lord Ransom? What is the meaning of this?”

“What is the meaning of this?” Ransom shot back with anger in his voice.

“I’ve just solemnized a marriage between these two young people and was about to start the coronation.”

“Why is there to be a coronation when there is still a king?”

More murmurs and whispers skittered through the hall.

“The king is dead,” Jon-Landon said, gazing hotly at Ransom. “I am his heir.”

“My prince, you are deceived or misinformed. I left the king’s presence not two days ago, and he was very much alive and in good health. He is a prisoner to the Brugians. But he is still the King of Ceredigion.”

The deconeus’s eyes widened. He turned to Jon-Landon in accusation. “You assured me, my lord, that you had proof of your brother’s death. The letter you showed me, from King Estian—”

“Is false,” James added curtly. “Of course he would say that. As always, he sows dissension in our realm. That will change.”

The deconeus began to tremble. “My lords, I swear on the Lady that I knew nothing of this plot.” He backed away from the young couple. “Your word is trusted, Lord Ransom. If you say the king lives, that you’ve seen him yourself, then I believe you. I was given to understand you couldn’t come to the wedding because you were fighting Estian’s army.”

Ransom looked Jon-Landon in the eye. “It’s over, lad. Step down.”

Jon-Landon’s cheek muscles twitched with rage. “You know my father wanted me to have the throne. You cannot deny this. He trusted you to give it to me. How could you betray him?”

Ransom walked closer, his hand dropping to the pommel of his sword. “I never betrayed your father. I was with him until the end when he learned that you had switched sides. Don’t mock his memory. Your brother is the true king. You’ll answer to him for your presumption.”