The Thief's Daughter (Kingfountain #2)

“Take off the hood, lad,” he said with a chuckle. “Even I hardly recognize you with it. If I, who know you so well, am deceived . . .” He stopped, his lips quivering. He glanced at Elyse, his eyebrows knitting with worry, but a warm, welcoming smile had spread across her face at the sight of Owen’s face.

“I will be honest with you all,” the king continued. “Things are difficult right now. The attack at Blackpool has the people talking. And thinking.” He continued to pace, looking down at the ground, tapping his lips with his black glove. “I haven’t been this vulnerable since before Ambion Hill.” He wiped his mouth. “Every day, Mancini and his Espion are finding new traitors. I haven’t acted on them yet. He bids me to refrain.”

“If you act too soon, my liege,” Mancini said deftly, “the others will go underground. I’m pulling in the nets slowly, lest I lose more fish before the rope cinches.”

“Who?” Owen said, feeling his blood boil.

“My own chamberlain,” the king said bitterly. “When I found out, I nearly threw him into the river myself. I’ve rewarded that man. I’ve trusted him. And he’s betrayed me.” The king’s eyes turned to molten silver. “But I heed you, Mancini. Your advice has been sound. Know who the traitors are before acting. That is one reason I cannot go to Atabyrion myself. That is why I must trust you.” His gaze fell on Evie and a proud smile stretched across his mouth. “You’ve proven you have courage, my dear. You are sensible. Polidoro tells me you know the history of our kingdom better than anyone, including himself. You know the history of our troubles with Iago Llewellyn’s father. Your grandfather and I defeated him last time.”

“I know,” Evie said, clearly chafing with excitement. “I am ready to perform any service I can, my lord. You wish me to negotiate a truce? To cease hostilities between Iago and yourself? To convince him to break the alliance he made with Occitania?”

“Indeed,” the king said. “But there is more.”

Her eyebrows lifted curiously.

“This is a game of Wizr I intend to win,” the king said. “A strong alliance with Atabyrion would change things in my favor. Iago has asked me, repeatedly, to provide him with a marriage partner befitting his rank. Who he has asked for . . . well, it’s not possible . . .” He could only mean Elyse. It made sense that he would not support such a union. Any offspring they had could be used to make a claim for the throne of Ceredigion.

“The lad is ambitious and reckless,” the king continued. “He needs someone to tame him. If I’m to have a partner to watch my flank, I need to be able to rely on that partner. Can I count on your loyalty, Elysabeth Victoria Mortimer?”

Her lip trembled. “Count . . . count on me for what, my lord?”

“I have ulterior motives for sending you to negotiate this truce with Iago.”

Owen’s stomach was turning over and over as he realized the direction the current was headed. He deduced what the king was going to say next. He saw what was happening, but felt as powerless against it as he had been to speak his truth to the king before Severn left the North. He wanted to cry out a warning, but he knew he could not.

“What would you have me do?” Evie asked in confusion.

Owen glared fiercely at Mancini, who was watching him unflinchingly. Ah, so he knew. He knew and he hadn’t warned Owen.

“It is my will,” the king said, “that you marry King Iago of Atabyrion.”





Above all, King Severn of Ceredigion values loyalty. He is known to test the loyalty of those who serve him in ways that truly pierce the heart.



—Polidoro Urbino, Court Historian of Kingfountain





CHAPTER ELEVEN


Etayne




As Severn said those words, Owen could only listen in shock and pain. Evie flinched as if she’d been struck. There were many things Owen wanted to say at that moment. None would have been prudent.

Evie’s face was pale, and knowing her as he did, Owen was certain she was battling a fierce storm of emotions. Still, she rallied and bowed before the king.

“I am grateful to Your Majesty,” she said in a quiet voice, “for the trust you have in me. I will go to Atabyrion as you have commanded.” Though she looked crestfallen, stricken, she put on a submissive air.

“I knew that I could depend on you,” the king said. “I would have you depart within a fortnight. But first, you must speak with my chancellor, who will explain the state of affairs between our two kingdoms. If you are to go there, you must be prepared to threaten Iago. At all times, you are to project strength rather than weakness. My chancellor will also provide you with the funds required to act as my emissary. I have contacts at the court of Iago, which Master Mancini will explain to you. You will go with a full diplomatic escort, including several of my court lawyers to serve as your advisors. But I would have it made clear that you represent me and are empowered to negotiate on my behalf. You must make him see that his interests are best served with me as a friend and Occitania as his enemy.”

“It is . . . a great honor,” she stammered.

“You have proven worthy of it.” The king gestured her dismissal. “I would speak to Owen next. As you know, he will be going with you as one of your protectors. You may go.”

Owen’s heart was dark and brooding and sizzling with enmity. He cursed himself silently for not speaking to the king about his feelings back at Dundrennan. To expose them now would risk offending Severn to a catastrophic degree. There was only one hope: He was going with Evie to Atabyrion, so perhaps he could prevent the disaster simply by being there.

Evie bowed again, still pale with dread, and left the throne room. She glanced at him once before leaving, her eyes beseeching his. Though Owen ached to follow her, he could only stare at her with pain.

“You as well, Niece,” the king said, though he spoke with compassion. Elyse looked at the king, a small frown on her mouth, but she rose and left as she had been bidden. Was she suffering because she knew what was happening to Owen and Evie? Or was it this business of the pretender that had her so twisted up inside?

As the door shut behind her, Owen turned to face Severn and Mancini. The spymaster gave a nod to tell Clark to stay put.

The king rose from his throne, wincing with discomfort, and began to pace the throne room. He glanced at Mancini. “Fetch her,” he said curtly.

Mancini nodded and walked over to the doorway the king usually used to enter the throne room. The king’s expression was guarded.