The Thief's Daughter (Kingfountain #2)

Justine marched up to them. “You’d better go,” she said to Owen in an urgent voice.

A kiss was a promise. A kiss was something couples did when courting, usually reserved for after a pact of marriage had been reached. In the eyes of her grandfather, they were already trothed—promised to each other. But how could he take such a liberty when the king had expressly promised her to someone else?

He saw her tongue dart to wet her bottom lip, and it made his bones burn with fire. Owen cleared his throat, his head a bit dizzy from the emotions surging through him. “Well, I’m glad we’re facing this together, Elysabeth Victoria Mortimer.” He brought her hand up to his mouth and pressed a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

He could see a shadow of disappointment in her eyes. His throat went dry when he saw her look change—with Evie, an impetuous look like that was always followed by a rash act. She was going to kiss him. A dominant part of him wanted her to do it.

“My lady,” Justine whispered desperately, clearly coming to the same conclusion. “Don’t.”

Evie blinked a few times. Then she sighed. “Good night, Owen. My knight. My dearest friend.” Her eyes burned into his, still willing him to kiss her. Discomfort held him back. This felt hidden and shameful and secret, which was not what he wanted for them.

Owen stood slowly, his knees nearly knocking together, and pulled his hands away. Now a demure lady in appearance, Evie rested hers in the lap of her nightgown. It was so hot in the room, Owen felt like tugging at his collar.

“I’ll be your knight,” Owen said, bowing. “And my heart belongs to you, my lady.”

She looked pleased at the words, but her disappointment was still apparent. “You are dismissed, sir knight,” she said, and Justine sighed with relief.

Owen left through the secret door in her chamber and shut it behind him. He leaned back against it, his heart pounding in his chest with feelings he’d never experienced this forcefully. They were delicious, dangerous, and thrilling. Now that he had seen Evie, he felt more resolved. He was going to outthink King Severn and defeat him in this matter, just as he would in a game of Wizr. He had to.

Owen was about to leave, but he had the idea of checking on her one more time. Turning back toward the door, he found the spy holes were already open.

But he did not remember opening them. No, the holes must have been closed, or else he wouldn’t have burst in on her like that.

He hesitated, the ebullient feelings in his heart turning to the oil and sludge of suspicion.

“Go ahead and look,” Etayne whispered from the dark corridor behind him. Her voice was silky and knowing. “I won’t tell.”

He whirled around to face her shadowy form in the dark tunnel.

“You were watching us?” Owen stammered in a low voice, feeling mortified as he realized the Espion girl had been spying on them the whole time.

He did not hear her approach, but he saw her silver gown in the dim light escaping a hooded lantern. “I’m not as pretty as her,” she said slyly. “You struggled with that one. But it was a good answer. You should have kissed her, my lord. She wanted you to. Perhaps you need someone to teach you how?”

Owen was grateful for the dark to hide his flush. He wanted to be gone. To be anywhere other than that small confined corridor with the Espion girl who had observed him making a fool out of himself.

“So you are also coming to spy on us throughout the journey?” Owen demanded thickly, but he suspected he already knew the answer.

“Mancini suspected that you were going to tell her about me,” Etayne said. “But no, he didn’t send me to spy on you tonight. I did that on my own. Just as I didn’t tell him that we had already met in my tower. I know that the best secrets are kept, my lord. And I will keep yours.”





One of the more difficult decisions a prince must make is what to do with the survivors of a rival. For certainly if the survivors are allowed to marry and have children, their heirs will become future threats. In the days of the first Argentines, one surviving son was locked away in the dungeons by his uncle and purportedly starved to death. There are no official court documents about how the lad met his fate. This is a more brutal example of how this dilemma may be approached. In this day, King Severn has chosen to deal with the survivors of his brothers thus. He keeps them close to him at the court of Kingfountain. They include his brother’s child, Dunsdworth, now a man past twenty. And his older brother’s daughter, Elyse, whom he keeps especially close to him. In both cases, he refuses to let them marry and keeps them under constant watch by the Espion. For all appearances, they may look free, but it is a cruel form of bondage for ones so young.



—Polidoro Urbino, Court Historian of Kingfountain





CHAPTER THIRTEEN


Fate of Princes




In the days following the midnight meeting, preparations were made for the journey to Atabyrion. They were to leave on a ship called the Vassalage, which would be escorted by several of the king’s warships, full of soldiers, lest Iago do something foolish. Owen did not return to Evie’s room again, knowing he was being watched by the Espion girl.

As a knight in disguise, Owen spent time in the training yard working on his skills. He enjoyed swordplay, and the sweat and the sheer physical effort of it helped distract him from the nagging dilemmas pervading his mind.

Owen was in the middle of a bout with the palace sword master the morning of the day they were supposed to set sail for Atabyrion, when two men entered the training yard. He assumed they had come to share the space, but they only stood there and watched him spar. After the bout, Owen sheathed his blade and fetched a drink from a bucket ladle, then dumped some of the water over his head to ease the heat and wash away the sweat dripping down his cheeks.

The two men approached him from behind—he could hear the gravel crunching from their boots—and he quickly turned to assess them as potential threats. Not many in the castle had been informed Lord Kiskaddon was there, and most seemed to accept he was a household knight of Duke Horwath. It was interesting to Owen how a simple change in attire could deceive the senses of people who should have known him. When one looked like a prince, or dressed like a king, it led others to suppose it to be true.

“You’re the new knight,” one of the men said to Owen. It only took him an instant to recognize the young man as Dunsdworth, the enemy of his boyhood. Recognizing his face brought ugly memories to mind.