The Thief's Daughter (Kingfountain #2)

“The king has broken sanctuary!” someone screamed and instantly the flashfire of shouting went up again. Yells and jeers came from the crowd, the noise so loud it drowned out any further chance for Evie to be heard. Owen felt a throb of pride and a twinge of panic. She was totally fearless . . . and totally exposed.

Someone threw a club through the gate and it struck her stallion’s foreleg. The beast reared in surprise, and Owen watched as Evie tried to cling to the saddle horn. Then the horse’s hooves slipped on the ice and both beast and girl went down. Owen gasped in shock, unable to move quickly enough. He swung out of his saddle and rushed to her side.

She was so still on the stones, her face so pale, and his heart spasmed in pain and panic as he knelt beside her, lifting her head and cradling it in his arms.

The winches of the portcullis were groaning, and Owen saw the iron teeth lifting from the holes. Suddenly the mob was turning in fear, pressing against each other to escape the wrath that would hail down on them. The sound of archers loosing strings came from the battlement walls, and then a swarm of arrows began to descend on the mob. Owen cradled Evie’s head, his heart breaking with despair.

Bellowing with rage, the king was the first through the portcullis, followed by rows of battle-tested war horses. The white boar pennant fluttered in the snowy breeze. Owen caressed Evie’s hair, his chest heaving with emotion. Was she dead? He pressed his ear to her mouth, trying to hear or feel even a puff of air amidst the chaos around him.

He would use every bit of his magic to save her life. He began summoning Fountain magic, drawing it inside him. Was her skull broken? Was her neck? There was no blood he could see, but he felt the knot of a bump on the back of her head.

Owen felt her lips kiss his ear. “I’m fine, silly boy. I’ve fallen off horses before.”

He lifted his head and looked down at her, her eyes gray in the low light. She blinked quickly, and a smile stretched across her mouth as she awoke in his arms.

He could not believe she was even speaking, not with her cheeks so pale. Evie sat up, holding Owen’s shoulders and drawing her legs in toward her chest to keep from getting trampled by all the horses charging through the gates. The thrum of bowstrings continued to sound and a cheer went up from the soldiers who were now chasing the mob away.

She put her hand on Owen’s cheek. “Go to the king. Go right away.”

Owen shook his head. He felt a hand on his shoulder, but he didn’t even look to see who it was. “I won’t leave you,” he said with determination.

She blinked and gave him a look that said he was being foolish. She let her hand linger on his cheek. “I fell off my horse, Owen. This is not the first time. I’ll be all right. But you need to go to the king. To rein him in before he massacres all of them.” Her eyes burned into his. “He’s in a rage now. Stop him before he goes too far.” She smoothed her thumb along his bottom lip. “Etayne will help me. I’ll be all right.”

Owen glanced back and saw it was Etayne’s hand that was on his shoulder. As he watched, she stepped forward and applied a compress to Evie’s wound to stanch the bleeding.

“I’ll take her back to the palace,” Etayne promised.

A conflict raged inside of Owen, but he knew Evie was right. She was always right. And in hindsight, her intercession had disrupted the riot. Although it was an accident, it had caused the rabble to start to flee, struck by the shame of their conduct.

He stared down at Evie, his heart nearly breaking. “I love you,” he whispered.

Evie closed her eyes, smiling as if savoring something delicious. Then she opened them again and patted his cheek. “Finally,” she said with a contented sigh.





I had not expected to be at court when such momentous times unraveled. The more superstitious denizens of the city, riled up I believe by the sanctuary men, who are natural criminals, tried to overthrow the monarchy by literally throwing Severn into the river. Their attempt met with a disastrous failure as the rebellion was snuffed out by the heavy snows and the steel courage of Severn’s knights. Order has been restored to the city, and people are keeping to their homes. The grounds of Our Lady have been deserted by all but the deconeus and the sexton. The lawless men who have lived under the auspices of the grounds’ protection have fled, and skulk in taverns and dark holes. The king, at this very moment, is with Duke Kiskaddon at the sanctuary. News of this event will spread quickly. One cannot know the consequences.



—Polidoro Urbino, Court Historian of Kingfountain





CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR


Our Lady




The violence was over, the rioting quelled. The streets were deserted and the trampled snow had crimson stains that sickened Owen. He did not know how many had died, but the memory of the freezing corpses would haunt his dreams.

He had never seen the interior of the sanctuary of Our Lady so empty. The black and white tiles in the main foyer that had always reminded him of a giant Wizr board were now littered with debris from the hundreds of inmates who had fled the sanctuary, carrying their belongings and dropping many in their haste to exit. Owen nudged a book with a broken spine with his boot. The sight only added to Owen’s worry and despair.

“My lord sovereign,” the deconeus said in a tremulous voice to the king. “What is your intention regarding worshipping at the sanctuary of Our Lady? The grounds are despoiled. Men were . . . were tromping in the fountain waters to seize as many coins as they could before fleeing.” His voice was heavy with grief.

Owen slid the broken book out of his way and joined the king. The deconeus and the sexton were aged men, and they looked crushed and defeated in their cassocks and robes.

“Spare me the gloom, gentlemen,” Severn said with a sardonic edge in his tone. “And do not pretend to think I don’t know what really happens here.” He gestured to the wide, empty space. “The sanctuary has always been an illusion. A dream.”

The deconeus’s suffering expression turned grim. “You meddle with something you do not comprehend, my lord.”

“Do I?” Severn said with a tone of exasperation. “You curry the people’s fear to hold dominion over them. I did not raze the sanctuary, deconeus. The villains you harbor here fled of their own accord because they did not believe the Fountain would protect them from me.”

“They did not believe it because you had your Espion kidnap the Deconeus of Ely!” the sexton said in a tone that was almost a shout.

Severn skewered the man with his gaze, and Owen took a step closer. He did not believe the king would shed blood in the sanctuary. But he was not completely convinced. The sexton was a fool for speaking so boldly.

“The deconeus was a proven traitor to Ceredigion,” the king said venomously. “And you’ve been harboring him these many years while he continued to plot with our enemies in Occitania. How long have you known about his efforts to lure my niece away? You cannot suppose I would hold you guiltless for such treachery.”