The Maid's War (Kingfountain 0.5)

“Jacquette,” Ankarette said with a nod. “She was seventeen when they married, but it was also a childless marriage. It didn’t last that long before Deford died. And yes, he was poisoned. She married again to Lord Rivers and they had a large brood of children. My mistress, she who now reigns at Kingfountain, was their eldest.”

Alensson sighed. “So now you know that Genette did not have the sword when she was captured outside Shanton. Once I saw the blade, I understood why Genette’s leg had taken so long to heal. She had entrusted it to her squire and then sent him away to await news of her capture. When it happened, he was to bring the blade to me.”

“And why to you?” Ankarette pressed.

“I thought it was because she wanted me to rescue her,” he replied. His eyes twinkled. “And so I tried. You already understand, Ankarette, that my wife was having a difficult pregnancy. I hadn’t forgotten Genette’s warning that the heir of La Marche might need the same magic she’d used to save Brendin. I needed to free the Maid from that awful dungeon—for her and for my family. I disobeyed my king’s orders. I was willing to risk anything to set Genette free.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Risk





Alensson’s stallion was wearied by the pressing ride, but the duke was impatient to arrive. The lush valley spread before him, the air full of gnat clouds and the pleasant odor of honeysuckle. His heart started pounding faster when the roof of the cottage came into view from his vantage point on the road. The stallion wanted to linger and crop grass, but he gave it an encouraging nip with his spurs, and it continued to labor down the gravel road, bringing up puffs of dry dust. A meadowlark trilled from the nearby trees, and Alensson was lost in its beautiful song for a moment.

The beast managed the final agonizing steps to the cottage door. Before the young duke was out of the saddle, the door flung open and his wife emerged from within, holding her swollen belly. Alix Felt looked worriedly from the doorway, but her face melted into relief upon recognizing him.

“Alensson!” Jianne gasped. She leaned against the door frame, looking as surprised as a child who’d seen a jongleur’s trick. The smudges under her eyes wrenched his heart.

He had left his armor and royal tunic with his captain, Jeremy, so he could conceal his identity while he traveled. He wore a hunter’s garb now, clothes that would be comfortable for living off the land, which he intended to do until he succeeded.

“Hello, my love,” he said, reaching her in moments and sweeping her into his arms. Her growing womb was as taut as a melon, and it felt strange and exciting when it pressed up against him. He kissed her ear, then her neck, then her mouth, and she responded with a fiery vigor that proved they’d been away from each other for too long.

“What are you . . . doing here?” she tried to get out amidst the flurry of kisses. Alix discreetly slipped away to give them some privacy.

“I had to see you,” he answered huskily. “Let’s go inside.”

“What about the horse?”

“I don’t give a badger about the horse! It’s half lame right now. It won’t wander off.” He waved at it with his arm. “Go find a water trough, beast! Off with you!” He grinned at Jianne, his heart swelling inside his chest as he walked back into the cottage with her, one arm around her shoulders to support her.

“I’m not made of glass, you know,” she said, her arm squeezing around his waist.

“I wish Izzt were not so far,” he said, turning to shut the door behind them. The small kitchen smelled of bread, baked squash, and there was a pile of greens she’d been in the middle of cutting. Again he felt the lack of coin and thus the lack of servants who could have tended to her needs. “It cost me dearly to come this way first, but I had to see you.”

“I wouldn’t be comfortable at Shynom anymore,” she said shyly.

“What do you mean?” he pressed, leading her to a bench at the table and helping her to sit.

She looked down at her hands and then up into his eyes, giving him a knowing look. “The court has changed, Alensson. It has always been a hive of scheming and plotting, but recent developments have altered the tone. The women are more . . . brazen. I suppose that’s the word. More haughty. You should see what’s fashionable now. The gowns, I mean.” She shook her head. “I would blush wearing something like that. We lack money, Husband. There are those who are willing to lend, but they wanted certain . . . favors.”

Alensson’s face went tight with anger. “Who?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want you to worry, Husband. I made it very clear that I wasn’t needful of money.” She sighed. “The court has changed so quickly. But that is not why you’re here. You didn’t come because you were worried about me.” It wasn’t stated as a question.

Alensson rose from the bench and began to pace restlessly. “It is not the only reason.”

“Tell me,” she pleaded. “When I heard that Genette was captured, I feared you might do something rash.”

He chuckled under his breath. “I am doing something rash,” he said. Then he looked at her. “So I needed to forewarn you.”

Her eyes closed and she began to tremble with fear. “What are you saying, Alensson?”

He approached the table and planted his palms on the surface. “During the siege of Pree, Genette’s squire, he was only a lad, took a crossbow bolt to the heart. It killed him instantly. She brought him back to life, Jianne. The Maid did. But before she did it, she turned to me and said, you must hear the word of power. Someday it will save the life of the heir of La Marche. A little babe—stillborn.”

Jianne shuddered at the words and covered her mouth in horror.

Alensson felt a gush of tenderness and fear. “When Genette was captured by the King of Brugia, I went to Shynom to plead with the king to ransom her. I begged him. I tried every device under the sun to influence and persuade him, even promised to give the crown a portion of my lands once I reclaim them. Nothing was enough to tempt him. He wants her gone.” He felt his lips twisting into a sneer. “She, the savior of Occitania. Jianne, we nearly took Pree in one day. One day!” His voice had raised to a shout, but he wrestled it down. “One day,” he whispered. “The king would not hear me. He ordered me to return to La Marche but to stop attacking Deford so boldly. He’s trying to negotiate a peace between the three realms—Ceredigion, Occitania, and Brugia. To restore some balance. Pah! We could have won it all back and more! But with each of her successes, she grew more powerful. He would have been beholden to her. Limited by her. And so he betrayed her, and now . . . now she’ll languish in a Brugian dungeon for years as I did. Or worse, they will sell her to Deford, who will execute her.” He paused. “There is some magic at work here. I can sense it. Some Fountain magic, though twisted.”

Jianne’s tears streamed down her cheeks. She reached out and put her hand on his atop the table. “Don’t go,” she begged.