The Thief's Daughter (Kingfountain #2)

She smiled at the praise and then followed her mistress back toward their private room. Evie motioned for Owen to join them and he did. The steps leading out of the hold were steep and narrow, and it was dark when they reached above deck. The stars were shining through the windows like a swarm of tiny fireflies. They conferred with the first mate, who informed them that the journey back would take less time because the wind was at their backs. He hoped to reach Kingfountain before dinner the following day.

Evie’s chamber seemed much too small to Owen. Everything about the ship was cramped, like the cage in the hold, but the physical size wasn’t the real issue. Owen was restless. He felt his life was becoming more confined and restrictive, and he longed to burst the bands of duty and obligation, to be free. But he would not risk losing everything he had acquired in a rash act of rebellion. Loyalty binds me.

“You’re agitated,” Evie said with a sigh. Justine started to help her remove her jewelry.

“It’s not every day you get to see another man kiss the woman you love,” Owen said with bitterness.

Evie sighed. “That was . . . unfortunate. Please don’t think I enjoyed it.”

“There has been precious little in this journey that I’ve enjoyed,” Owen said. He wanted to kick himself for being dramatic at such a time. “Forgive me for being sullen.”

“I can’t blame you,” Evie said, the wrinkle of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You’ve had to endure Iago talking about you in your very presence! You’ve watched him flatter and dote on me day after day. That was an unfair burden to place on you.”

“Let’s not pretend that your discomfort was not as great as mine,” Owen said, deflecting her sympathy. “This has not been an easy mission for either of us. I’m sorry if I’ve not been as attentive as the King of Atabyrion.”

Evie looked at him and shook her head. “You will always be my closest and dearest friend, Owen. Your pain is mine. And I don’t want another moment to pass between us without you knowing how deeply I care about you and your feelings.” She sighed, her look growing more troubled. “Do you think . . . do you think Severn will force me to marry him? If he invades Ceredigion, I cannot imagine that Severn would still want an alliance.”

Owen chuckled. “Then here’s to hoping he does!”

“Be serious,” she chided. “You know he cannot win. He’s too brash and self-confident to realize it. He doesn’t know the man he is provoking. But do you think Severn will still make me marry Iago? I’m too close to the situation to see it objectively.”

“And you think I am not?” Owen said, suddenly very serious. “Losing you is my greatest fear. I’m sorry, but I don’t think Iago Llewellyn deserves you. He needs you, and not just for your connections and your inheritance. He needs your wisdom and prudence. The advantage is all on his side. You would bring him the stability that he most desperately needs. I have no doubt his efforts to woo you were sincere, if not selfishly motivated.”

Evie flushed at the compliments. “You are kind to say those things.”

“They’re true,” Owen said with a grunt. The pain in his heart was swelling, making it almost difficult to breathe. He tried some levity. “I have a difficult time picturing you wearing one of those fancy Atabyrion headdresses, though. You would look quite silly.”

She started to laugh and it was music to his ears.

They stared at each other a moment, feeling the healing balm of shared pain. She wanted him to hold her. He could see the need in her eyes, but he also saw her unwillingness to act on it. Owen needed no more coaxing than that. He crossed the small room to her, startling Justine, and Evie rushed into Owen’s embrace. He hugged her tightly, pressing her against him, feeling her body trembling in his arms. Her hair smelled sweet, and he could feel its softness crushed under his forearms. Her cheek pressed against his chest and throat.

“What will happen to us?” she whispered, her voice thick with tears.

“I don’t know,” Owen said, feeling as if his heart were wrenching into two halves. He held her for a long time, just enjoying the moment—the sway of the ship, the feeling of comfort that came whenever his love was near. He wanted to kiss her—to tilt her head up and kiss her—but not while he was consumed with the memory of Iago’s lips having claimed hers first. At least he had the satisfaction of knowing the kiss would be tainted for Iago when he learned that Lord Kiskaddon had been in his realm.

“It’s getting late,” Justine said, looking forlornly at them both.

Evie backed away, a little shy look on her face. She smoothed the wrinkled front of her gown. Her eyes were more blue at that moment.

“What did you make of Eyric and Kathryn?” Evie asked curiously. “When you met them at the Huntley manor?”

Owen thought for a moment, bringing the memories bubbling back up in his mind. “I have no doubt they are very much in love,” he said. “There was something special about seeing them together. It may have been a political match, on the surface, but I have no doubt the two care deeply about each other. And I believe that Kathryn has confidence in Eyric and his story. Their love was touching.”

Evie seemed pleased by the words, but then a worried look replaced it. “What will happen if he does become king?” she whispered.

“What always happens when a king is thrown down,” Owen answered ominously. “It’s rare for the king’s favorites to stay in power. Your grandfather would lose his title. And so would I. We have much more to lose if Severn falls.”

“And you don’t think that Eyric would be willing to accept something less than the crown?”

Owen shook his head. “I offered that to him and he rebuffed me. He cannot trust Severn. Not after all he has been taught about his uncle. He fears the man. He probably even hates him. No, I don’t think Eyric will be swayed with the promise of being the Duke of Yuork again. He wants the crown or nothing.”

Evie’s face went dark with anger. “Then he will likely lose everything.”

“Or we will,” Owen said flatly.

Her lips pressed into a firm line. He’d seen that look on her face before. The look of determination that was a warning not to defy her.




The next day, the sky was veiled in thick, gray clouds. Owen craned his neck, feeling an icy bite to the wind. He needed to go to his room for a cloak soon. Every sailor chafed his hands and blew on them, looking hard pressed to tug on ropes and tie knots in such cold.

Owen went to look for Evie, and he found her and Justine talking to the captain above deck.

“How far off is Kingfountain?” Owen asked, staring at the churning sea as the Vassalage sliced through it.

“It’s yonder,” the captain said, a strange look in his eye. The captain had a small scar on his left eye, slicing down his cheek. It was faint, and Owen hadn’t noticed it before.

Owen raised his hand to his brow to get a better look at the land ahead. He started with surprise.

“This is unusual,” Evie said, shaking her head. “I’ve never seen Kingfountain swathed in snow this early in the season. Winter is still two months away.”

The palace of Kingfountain and the trees on the grounds were shrouded in a thin blanket of freshly fallen snow. Owen had been there in winter before, but he had mostly spent his winters in Westmarch, where it didn’t get as cold. This was an unusually early winter storm.