The Thief's Daughter (Kingfountain #2)

“Can you tell me where you found that history?” Evie asked, her tone one of intense curiosity.

“It’s not history, my lady Elysabeth. To be sure, there are many who claim King Andrew was real, but there is no evidence whatsoever that he was a real king. These legends are entertainment. That is all. But if you are interested, I would recommend an Occitanian poet. I think I have a translation somewhere in here, and when I find it, I’ll bring it to you.”

“Thank you, Master Urbino,” Evie said with a pleased smile.

“So you see, you both were wrong. While St. Penryn is technically off the coast of Westmarch, it is actually considered part of Leoneyis. It is where King Andrew met his fate, and they say—” he added with an amused chuckle, “—it is also where he will return again. I hope you found the tale diverting.”

“Indeed,” Owen said, giving Evie a meaningful look. The three young people left the historian’s chamber, listening to him chuckle and hum to himself as they walked away.

Owen pitched his voice low. “The treasure in the cistern had an ancient look to it.”

Evie shot him a dangerous glance. “Do you think it came to be there after Leoneyis flooded?”

“I think I would like to find out,” Owen said. “Assuming, of course, that the cistern hasn’t frozen over yet.”

“I don’t think it’s that cold,” Evie said.

“Where are we going?” Justine asked worriedly. “I don’t like the sound of this.”

Owen looked at Evie. “Have you ever told her?”

Evie shook her head. “It was our secret. Remember?”

Owen turned to Justine. “Are you afraid of heights?”





CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE


Cistern




A trail of footprints in the snow led to the edge of the cistern opening in a walled-off portion of the palace of Kingfountain. The air was chill, and thick flakes of snow came down like autumn leaves. As Owen stood at the lip of the cistern and gazed down, he saw the water was much deeper than it had been in their younger years. The reservoir was well stocked.

“It looks colder than the Vairn River near Dundrennan,” Evie said, stifling a shiver.

“You are both quite out of your senses for considering this,” Justine warned. “The water is absolutely frigid! You won’t be able to spend more than a few moments in it without catching a chill. And how will you get up again?”

Owen nodded to an ivy-strewn portion of wall. “There is a door over there and steps leading up to it.” He sighed as he stared nervously down at the water. “It does look cold.”

“My lady,” Justine said, shaking her head. “This is ridiculous. Your grandfather would not approve. Come away from the edge.”

Evie gave her a rebellious look. “Be a dear and fetch us some blankets. I think we’ll need them.”

“You’re not going to—”

Evie reached out and took both of Owen’s hands. “Together? Like we did before? Ratcliffe is dead, so I don’t anticipate anyone will drain it on us.”

Owen took a shuddering breath.

“Someone is trying to kill you,” Justine said, her face going white. “Please, my lady, don’t do this!”

“Go,” Owen said, squeezing her hands. Standing across from each other over the hole, they stepped off at the same moment and plummeted into the cistern.

The shock of cold was worse than the Vairn. Absolutely worse. It made Owen nearly gasp as sharp needles of freezing pain stabbed at him from all sides, soaking into his clothes. His vision went black for a moment, and he feared he’d passed out from the shock of it. He kept himself still, trying to let the momentum of the fall bring him down to the bottom. He craved a fresh gasp of air, his lungs were screaming for it, but he felt the solid thump of the cistern floor against his boots much sooner than expected. Of course. He was much taller now than he had been as a child. Already the air in his chest was making him start to rise again, so he let out a few bubbles and blinked rapidly, trying to see through the blur of the water.

The treasure was still there.

He saw open chests spilling over with coins. There were battered shields with strange markings on them, the crests unfamiliar. Were these truly from Leoneyis? He felt a tug on his hand, and Evie motioned for him to swim back up.

He needed to bring something away, something to show her that the treasure was real. That he could see it, even if no one else could.

He spied a long weathered box, about the size of a sword, with straps and buckles holding it shut. There was a symbol branded on top of it. It looked vaguely familiar.

Take it. You will need it.

The whisper came from the Fountain. Owen felt himself rising again and breathed out a few more bubbles of air. He broke his grip with Evie and used his arms to swim toward the box. His muscles cramped with the cold and he felt the edges of his vision growing black. Gritting his teeth, he kicked hard and tried to close his unresponsive fingers around the box. He could not get a grip. His freezing fingers just wouldn’t respond. But Owen was determined. He used his forearms to scoot the long box toward him and managed to clamp it against his side with his left arm. Using his right, he paddled back toward the surface. The weight of the box and the lack of air in his chest threatened to suck him back down, but he surfaced moments later, gasping for breath and chattering with cold.

“O-v-v-er he-ere!” Evie stammered. She grabbed at his shirt and the two quickly swam to the stone steps.

“Are you all right?” Justine cried from the cistern hole above. Her voice was edged with concern and panic. “I’m going to fetch help!”

“No!” Evie shouted. “J-Just f-fetch some blankets!”

“I’ll be right back!” Justine shouted and vanished.

“Th-that was c-cold,” Evie whispered, shuddering violently.

“I liked th-the last time . . . better,” Owen offered with a smile. His fingers were working a little better now. “Do you see this? I’m not imagining the box?”

“No, it’s real,” Evie said, nodding vigorously, her eyes wide. “Let’s g-get out of h-here first. We n-need a fire.”

Owen didn’t object. Pressing the box against his body, he gripped her arm with his other hand and helped haul her up the stairs. The Espion latch was a bit tricky with his numbed fingers and trembling body, but he managed to get it open. He had to butt his shoulder into the door, and the force of it made them stagger into the snow, clutching each other. Evie looked as pale as the weather and her lips were faintly blue.

Their teeth were chattering too much to talk, and each time they exchanged a look, they both started laughing. It reminded Owen of their childhood, of chasing her around the edge of the fountain before she fell into it. Maybe she had the same memory. Her eyes carried the same mischievous glint he had always fancied in her.