Owen’s heart had filled with horror. “But . . . but . . . the prince lied!”
Ankarette nodded, her expression sad. “That is the way of princes and power, Owen. That is the nature of the kingdom of Ceredigion. In truth, it is the nature and disposition of most men. So think on this. If you were one of the rebel leaders and the prince promised you forgiveness and reward, it would matter, very much, if you had discernment. He needed to make a decision based on what type of man he believed the prince to be. Was he a man of honor? Or was he willing to say anything, do anything to help his father keep his crown?” She folded her hands together. “That is why discernment is the most important thing you can learn, Owen. It takes time and experience. Sadly, one wrong judgment can lead to . . . well, you heard the end of the story.”
Owen had no doubt that King Severn was like the prince who had so ruthlessly killed his enemies. He had made Owen promises and promptly broken them. He would say or do anything to maintain his power. Maybe that’s what Ankarette was trying to teach him.
She smoothed her silk skirts. “Why don’t you go back? Jewel will awaken soon and then you can have some supper. I hope to see you later tonight.”
He smiled and rose, feeling little tingles in his feet from the way he had been sitting. He gave her a hug—she liked it when he did—and she patted his back and kissed his cheek.
“You really are a darling little boy,” she whispered, grazing her finger down his cheek.
“Have you thought of a way yet?” he pressed.
“No, but I have some ideas. I’ll keep thinking as I work.” She reached for her needles and embroidery.
Owen went back down the narrow stairwell and slipped down the secret corridors. He found Jewel in the room, still snoring softly. He waited a moment, listening to her breathing, and then grabbed a book and read it until she awakened with a fitful snort.
“I’m hungry,” Owen said, slamming the book shut and putting it away. “I’ll meet you at the kitchen.”
Without waiting for her reply, he dashed out of the room, hearing her scold and chide him as he went. “Wait for my old bones, lad! Wait a moment! Owen Satchel, you get back here! Owen!”
As he rushed around the corner, he collided with Dunsdworth, who was coming the other way. The older boy grunted, “Watch where—oh, it’s you! Kisky!” He seized Owen’s arm, clearly intent on giving him bruises.
Owen, almost without thinking, grabbed Dunsdworth’s little finger and yanked backward. It was something Ankarette had taught him about the body and its weak points. The little finger wasn’t easy to grab, especially if someone was expecting it, but Dunsdworth wasn’t. He yelped in pain and surprise and released his grip. Free, the wiry little boy started running toward the kitchen.
“You little urchin!” Dunsdworth bellowed, starting after him at a run.
Owen’s stomach twisted with fear as he ran down the corridor, cursing himself for not having waited for Jewel. It was a long way to the kitchen, and Dunsdworth’s legs were much longer.
Owen ducked around a side corridor. If he could reach the end without being seen, he could vanish through a secret door. The sound of his pursuer’s boots grew louder.
“Come back here, little snot!”
Owen’s feet were going so fast he almost wasn’t touching the tiles. He could feel the vibrations of the pounding behind him. He wondered if he had enough time to trip the latch. But what if Dunsdworth saw him? How would he explain his secret knowledge?
Worry and fear mixed in his bowels.
Panicked with indecision, he veered around the corner and nearly slammed into someone. He caught himself just in time, but a firm and sturdy hand grabbed his shoulder. He twisted around in fear just as Dunsdworth came barreling around the corner, his face twisted with rage.
“Hold there!” Duke Horwath scolded. “Look at you two, racing about.”
Dunsdworth’s face was red and he was panting. “Lord Horwath!” he stammered as he stumbled to a stop. “I was . . . just . . . trying to catch him . . . he stole something from me.”
Horwath’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. It was obvious he didn’t believe it for a moment. “Get you gone,” he snarled at Dunsdworth. The lad’s ruddy cheeks paled and he turned on his heel and fled.
Owen had not seen the duke for weeks, and had not expected him to return to Kingfountain so soon. He tried to stammer out his thanks, but his tongue swelled in his mouth and he could say nothing. Frustrated with himself, he wiped sweat from his forehead.
“I just came from the kitchen,” the duke said gravely. “I was surprised you weren’t there. Everyone says that’s your favorite haunt.”
Owen bobbed his head, but he still couldn’t speak. His jaw was locked and he had no key to open it.
“I brought someone to be a playmate for you. I brought my granddaughter from the North with me.”
Horwath’s mouth bent into an affectionate smile.
Oh no, Owen thought darkly.