The Thief's Daughter (Kingfountain #2)

“I’m behind the changing screen,” Evie said. “Justine, help me. Grab my nightgown.”

Justine’s frown was more threatening than a spearhead. “You stay over there, my lord,” she urged him, thrusting the towel into his hand. Owen stepped back until he struck the wall by the Espion portal. His forehead was covered in a sheen of sweat, and he was almost tempted to flee for his life as Justine marched back to the changing screen. There were some muttered whispers from the other side, but not even his sharp hearing could make out what was said.

A few minutes later, Elysabeth Victoria Mortimer appeared from around the changing screen, finishing the final buttons of her nightdress. Her dark hair was damp from the water, and she was vigorously rubbing it with a small towel to dry it faster. She looked so pretty and intense, and the firelight revealed a little flush on her cheeks.

“Well, Owen Kiskaddon,” she whispered playfully, “if you’ve come to suggest we jump into the cistern tonight, you’re too late, I’m already wet.”

Justine gave her mistress a scolding look, but Owen barely noticed—he was too transfixed by Evie. As he watched the firelight dance across her gown, his embarrassment began melting away, replaced by more interesting emotions.

“Don’t be so shy, Owen,” Evie urged. “You’ve seen me like this before, in Dundrennan. Why did you come tonight? We both know it’s dangerous to be meeting like this.”

His tongue was thick in his mouth, and he felt a bit muddled, seeing her that way. She flung the hair towel to Justine, who caught it and muttered something under her breath.

“I had to see how you were doing,” Owen said awkwardly. “I’ve been miserable all day.”

Evie shook her head. “I haven’t. And you shouldn’t be either.”

He stared at her in disbelief. “But the king said—”

“Toss what he said, Owen.” She walked up to him and reached for his hands. The smell of scented soap still clung to her. Her fingers were wrinkled from the bathwater, but the rest of the skin on her hands felt warm and soft. “You know how Severn is. We both know he’s fond of testing his subjects’ loyalty. That’s exactly what I believe he’s doing. He’s testing our loyalty. Are we more loyal to him or to each other?”

Owen couldn’t help but frown. Holding her hands made his stomach flip around. He had the unbidden, though certainly not unfamiliar, urge to lean down and kiss her mouth, but he didn’t dare. She had been a part of his life for years now, and they had grown so close that the thought of her being another man’s wife was unthinkable and unbearable. All those hours they had spent kneeling across from each other, knees touching, while he built with his tiles, all the hikes they had taken into the mountains of North Cumbria, trudging through snow. Always it had felt like they were making a promise to each other—a promise that they would be together forever.

“He may be serious,” Owen said huskily, gazing into her eyes, which were now a calm shade of blue mixed with green.

Though he could see the worry in her eyes, she controlled it with a firmness of spirit. “I trust my grandfather,” she said softly, confidently. “He has served the king for many years. When he finds out, he’ll speak for us. We both know that he wants us to be together.” She reached up and smoothed some of his hair by his ear. “As provoking as this situation may be, it does please me that you’re upset by it. A little, anyway.”

“A little?” Owen scoffed. “I can’t imagine being more anxious if I were being tied up in a boat about to go into the river.”

She gave him a pretty smile. “That’s sweet, Owen. I suppose I’m more nervous than I’m letting on. But we’ve faced worse dangers in the past. He’s trying our hearts. I believe that if we stay loyal to him, the king will reward us. I believe that.” She squeezed his hands again.

Owen sighed, feeling more settled by her assurance. He wanted to believe that too. “There is something else I wanted to tell you. Something else that I learned.”

Her eyes widened with eagerness. “Come sit down.” She brought him over to a small couch and sat him down. For an instant, he thought she would come down on his lap, but she sat next to him, so close he could feel the warmth coming from her. Their hands were entwined.

Justine started pacing, casting furtive looks at the door and chafing her hands. She had always been an innocuous presence. But with her mistress now committed to another man—a king, no less—she clearly recognized the impropriety of their situation.

“What did the king tell you after I was gone?” In the firelight, her eyes had shifted to gray, reminding him of this magic that was only Evie’s.

He explained quickly, telling her about the King’s Poisoner, how she would pose as one of Evie’s ladies-in-waiting, and what her role would be should the pretender prove to be false. He did not tell her about meeting the girl in the tower earlier and being thrown onto the ground by her. His pride demanded he keep that part to himself, though he felt a little nagging impression that he should tell her.

Evie’s face darkened at the words. She looked down at their hands, considering it. “I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised the king is planning to use the diplomacy of poison.” She pursed her lips. “But he should have told me he was doing this.” She looked into his eyes. “I’m glad you trusted me with it, Owen. So her name is Etayne. Is she as pretty as Ankarette?”

He blinked with surprise. “She’s . . . she’s much younger. Dunsdworth’s age if I were to guess.”

“But is she very pretty?”

Owen squirmed, wondering how best to answer the question. “Well, she . . . I don’t think . . . it’s hard to say . . . I don’t think she’s as pretty as you.”

A pleased smile spread over Evie’s mouth. “She’s gorgeous then. Just as I feared. But that was a gentle answer. I know I’m pretty, Owen. But I’m not beautiful. Not in the way the girls from Occitania are, or the Earl of Huntley’s daughter in Atabyrion. I’ve heard about her already today. Lady Kathryn the Beauty.” She rolled her eyes. “I think I look too much like my father to be considered beautiful.”

Owen had rarely seen her exude such self-doubt. He suspected she might be fishing for a compliment, though he wondered how someone so confident could still want assurance on such a point.

“You are the most beautiful girl in all of Ceredigion,” Owen whispered softly, squeezing her fingers. He was so close to her, he saw the dimples as she smiled with pleasure. She looked up at him, her eyes misty with emotion, her lips slightly trembling. There it was again, the desire to kiss her. He could see that she felt it too. She even tilted her head, just a little, to make it easier.