“Hence why I’m still nurturing this thought. I don’t have three years to spare. How does one persuade a cunning prince like Severn that a young boy is Fountain-blessed? I’m still working on it. Give me time.” She winced, and though she would never say so, he knew she was in pain. “I’m feeling tired, Owen.”
“I am too,” he said, though he wasn’t very tired at all. He gave her a hug, loving the soft silk feel of her dress against his cheek, her warmth and tenderness. She kissed his brow and sent him back through the tunnels to his room.
Owen’s mind was full of wandering thoughts as he slipped down the stairs through the secret corridors leading to his room. He knew the way so well he could have made the journey blindfolded. He paused at a large painting, listening for the sound of footsteps, and heard nothing. The castle was asleep. He loved it that way. The rustle of tapestries, the shouting silence of the blackened halls, the deep shadows perfect for concealment. He did not even need a candle anymore as he stole spiderlike through the passages.
He opened the door of his room and immediately noticed the dim glow from a dying candle on a chest. Had he not doused his candle before leaving?
“Where have you been, Owen Kiskaddon?” someone asked in a conspiratorial whisper.
It was Elysabeth Victoria Mortimer, of course.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Loyalty Binds Me
“This is my room,” Owen said in a challenging tone. The girl’s eyes lit up mischievously.
“I know it’s your room. Why weren’t you in it? Where were you? Sneaking something from the kitchen?”
He shook his head and folded his arms. “Why are you sneaking around?”
“I hate sleeping,” she confided. “It’s so boring. Besides, I couldn’t wait until morning to tell you.”
“What?” he pressed, curious.
She leaned forward on her knees, her eyes almost silver in the darkness. “I spoke to Grandpapa. The king didn’t kill his nephews. That’s a lie. But he is responsible for their deaths. Only, it’s not totally confirmed that they’re dead. I’m a little confused on that part.”
Owen scrunched up his nose. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“You told me the king was going to kill you. You said he killed his nephews, but I know he didn’t. Grandpapa would not have lied to me.”
“He doesn’t tell you everything,” Owen said flatly. “He’s a grown-up.”
“He tells me everything,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “He’s never lied to me. Ever. You know about the coins in the fountains? They don’t grant wishes, Owen. That’s silly. The sexton shovels them out. Grandpapa told me, and he even let me watch. I never throw coins in fountains to make a wish anymore. It’s a silly tradition.”
Owen frowned. “Just because he said that doesn’t mean—”
“Yes, it does,” she interrupted. “He doesn’t lie to me. Here’s what he said. I knew you’d want to know. There was confusion when the old king, Cousin Eredur, died. We were only six, Owen. Just babies. Now we’re eight and we’re more grown-up. My grandpapa said that one of the princes lived in the West. The other lived in Kingfountain. Uncle Severn was named as their protector. You know his badge, right?”
“The boar,” Owen said, nodding. Just thinking about it made him want to shiver.
“The white boar,” she corrected. “You know his motto—‘Loyalty Binds Me.’ His own brother trusted him with his sons. But the queen tried to steal them away. She summoned the son in the West back to Kingfountain and sent soldiers with him. When Severn went to meet the prince, the queen was planning to have her men ambush and kill him. You see, the queen’s manor was on the way there. That’s where the ambush was going to happen. But someone warned him.”
Owen scratched the back of his head. He was still standing in the doorway. She sighed at him impatiently and waved for him to join her on the bed. He carefully shut the door and climbed up in front of her, kneeling like she was.
“Do you know who warned him?” Elysabeth Victoria Mortimer asked him archly. She had kept her voice low and conspiratorial.
Owen shrugged. “Ratcliffe?”
“No, no, no, Owen! Who was Severn’s most trusted man? The one he executed for treason! This was before Ratcliffe.”
Owen had no idea. “How do you know all this?”
“I love stories,” she purred like a cat. “Not pretend stories. I love true stories. My grandpapa tells me all about them. He’s so quiet, but he listens and he watches. He knows who to trust and who is lying. He listens all the time.”
Owen wondered why the granddaughter didn’t follow his example, but he kept that thought to himself.
She squeezed her knees, her eyes lit with excitement. “Lord Bletchley! Cousin Bletchley. He stood a good chance of being on the throne himself. King Eredur never trusted him, but Severn did because he was the one who warned him about the trap. They grabbed the prince as he was going to Kingfountain . . . on the very same road you traveled to get here. Isn’t this exciting?”