CHAPTER NINETEEN

Poisoner’s Grief

With a heavy heart, Owen went to the inn on the bridge where he had reserved a room for Etayne. He didn’t expect her to be there yet—she would arrive the next day at the earliest—but it was somewhere he could sit and think. Once in the room, he changed into a fresh set of clothes and washed his face in the water dish. And then he sat in a chair and stared once more at the note Sinia had left for him, his mood as dark as the night sky outside the window.

Eyric was already dead.

He had not heard that news from Kevan, so he assumed the Espion did not know. Had Severn ordered the executions upon learning of Owen’s return? He frowned. It was technically murder if the king had arranged for them to escape so that they could be tried for and found guilty of treason. He stared at the burning wick of the table candle, focusing on it so keenly he could see the different colors in the flame.

The door shut softly behind him, so quietly he nearly didn’t hear it.

Owen spun out of his chair and drew his sword halfway out of the raven-marked scabbard before he realized it was Etayne, a dagger in her own hand.

“How did you get here ahead of me?” Etayne whispered in shock. “When I saw the light under the door, I assumed someone was waiting to kill me.”

His heart was still thudding like a galloping stallion. “I wasn’t expecting you until the morrow.”

“I’ve not slept since I left you,” she said, and he could see the shadow smudges under her eyes that confirmed it. Her body was still rigid with wariness. “How did you get here so quickly?”

Owen licked his lips. “I see I caught you off guard. Let me explain. Would you put down the knife?”

She lowered her arm, but did not release her grip on the weapon. “How do I know it is truly you?”

“Sinia brought me here.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Let me try and explain this quickly. She’s powerful with the Fountain, Etayne. She’s a Wizr.” Her eyes widened with shock at the news. “She brought me here through the fountain of St. Penryn, and I emerged yonder at Our Lady.” He nodded in that direction. “I stole into the palace and used the Espion tunnels. Your father is working for the king. He’s Fountain-blessed himself. Did you know?”

“No,” Etayne said, shaking her head. “I had no idea.” He could see the truth of that statement in her eyes, and he heaved a sigh of relief.

“It’s true. He was there in the privy council meeting—I could sense his presence—but his power rendered him invisible. I only saw him after everyone else left and he emerged to speak privately with Severn. He arranged Eyric and Dunsdworth’s escape and recapture.”

The poisoner’s face betrayed a sudden rush of emotion. She blinked quickly, her lip trembling.

“What is it?” Owen pressed, walking toward her in concern.

She was struggling to maintain her composure. “What else?” she said, her voice choked.

“I hardly know how to say it,” Owen said weakly. “I learned about the Wizr board from Sinia. Apparently, the Wizrs of old set up the game on this particular board, bestowing it with an enchantment to control the destinies of kingdoms. The two sides are Occitania and Ceredigion, and their rivalry has lasted for centuries. The problem is that if one side loses or breaks the rules the Wizrs set up, their kingdom will be destroyed. Remember when Severn allowed Mancini to violate the sanctuary of Our Lady by dragging Tunmore out? That triggered some unnatural consequences. Specifically, the weather.”

“There is a storm heading this way,” Etayne said. “Before nightfall, I could see huge storm clouds coming from the North. They’ll be here by tomorrow. Are you saying this Wizr board summoned them?”

Owen nodded vigorously. “Remember the unnatural snow that happened all those years ago? It was induced by the Wizr set Tunmore was hiding in the fountain of Our Lady of Kingfountain. This Wizr game allows certain individuals to manipulate the pieces, but only if they have that right by blood. I’m to teach Drew how to play the game so he can move the pieces to defeat Severn. If we don’t defeat him, Ceredigion will be destroyed under a curse of ice. The duchess is trying to stop this as well. We’ve made an alliance. She will help overthrow Severn.”

A distrusting look crossed Etayne’s face. “She told you all this?”

“She did,” Owen said. “It makes sense, Etayne! I’ve seen evidence of it throughout my life. And the Fountain told me that Drew is the Dreadful Deadman. He’s the fulfillment of the prophecy, the only heir of the Argentine family that will allow the game to continue on. Every kingdom is going to attack us. That’s what the prophecy says. Severn is the kind of man who would sooner let everyone be destroyed than yield the hollow crown voluntarily. Do you doubt it, Etayne?”

She put away the dagger. “I don’t doubt that, Owen. But the duchess may have other motives for helping us. Is she really as benevolent as she’s made you believe?”

Her words stabbed a sliver of doubt into Owen’s heart. “I think she’s trustworthy, yes,” he said, infusing the words with as much conviction as he could muster.

“So what is your plan, Owen?” Etayne said after a moment’s pause. “What happens next?”

Owen wasn’t certain she was convinced. “Do you believe me, Etayne? Judging from your expression, you’re more wary than usual.”

She shook her head and sighed. “You caught me off guard, and I’m not used to that. I truly didn’t expect to find you here ahead of me. I came here to make sure it was safe for you to return to Kingfountain, and then there you were. The first thing you told me was that my father is in league with Severn. Owen, you must understand that he is the most untrustworthy man in all of Ceredigion. He is a liar and a thief, and he’s not been faithful to anyone in his entire life.” Tears danced on her lashes as she spoke. “I think he saw me when we went into his cell. If he suspects I’m still alive, he’ll try and find me so he can manipulate me as he’s always done.” She was trembling, which surprised him. She knew a thousand ways to kill a man, yet memories of her father, the thief, still haunted her. She clenched her fist and pressed it hard against her lips as she struggled to maintain her composure. He couldn’t see the awful memories playing through her mind, but he sensed them. A tear trickled down her cheek.

Owen hurt for her. How many times had she comforted him in his moments of grief and despair? Her failure to regain control of her runaway feelings sliced at him, particularly since he knew how keenly it would cost her. She was his friend, his confidante. The one person he had been able to fully trust over these last brutal years.

He couldn’t bear to see her suffer, so he stepped near and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She stiffened at his touch, but then let herself lean against him, stifling a sob. He held her close, feeling the tremors shake her body. She leaned her forehead against his chest. The moment between them was bittersweet; he felt both drawn to her and afraid of her. Sinia had warned him he’d be tempted to betray their troth. Now he and Etayne were alone in an inn, night had fallen, and his dear friend was the most vulnerable he’d ever seen her.

Then she lifted her head and looked into his eyes with a fierceness that startled him. She pushed away and lifted the cowl to hide her face. “I’ll be back before dawn,” she whispered. “Bolt the door.”

“I told Kevan that I needed to see the king and his councilors at once,” Owen said worriedly.

She shook her head. “You’re not going into that castle again until I’ve made sure it’s safe. Stay here.”

Owen barely slept that night. Every knock, every footfall startled him awake. Hours later, Etayne’s soft knock roused him from a fitful slumber, and he rushed to the door and unbolted it.

She swept in, all business, her look grim.

It was still dark, but the dim light in the sky marked the coming dawn.

“What did you learn?” he asked cautiously.

“The king is having the bodies dumped into the river this morning. At dawn.”

Owen’s stomach lurched. “So Eyric is dead,” he whispered. “Dunsdworth too?”

She shook her head. “Dunsdworth was allowed to drink himself into oblivion. He’s passed out. I saw the bodies as they were being strapped into canoes. They’ll be launched from the quay on the palace side. I told Kathryn you’d meet her there.”

“You saw her?” Owen asked.

She nodded. “She’s grieving. You can only imagine. I told her you’d bring her son so he could watch Eyric go into the river. She knows about the boy. I made arrangements with Liona to fetch him and dress him, and they’re expecting us in the kitchen. The king knows you’re coming. They’ll be expecting you at breakfast in the great hall. He plans to name you the heir of Ceredigion today, in front of the hall. But it’s a ploy, Owen. He fully intends to marry Kathryn, and any son will supersede you. The announcement will allow him to strip you of the Espion and half of Westmarch.”

Owen gritted his teeth. “How did you find all this out? Who knows you are back?”

She shook her head. “No one. I dosed Catsby with nightshade. When he awakens, he won’t remember telling me anything. He’s going to run the Espion now, and he knows all about Dragan. He’s your chief adversary. If I were to advise you, I’d ask Iago to invade the North. The people hate Catsby so much, they’ll welcome him with open arms. Thus begins your rebellion. The king will command you to subdue them.”

Owen smiled. “That’s my plan exactly, and the first steps have already been taken. But first I must tell the court about the dream I’ve had. It’s time to rock Severn’s throne. This will be my most impressive dream yet. Thank you,” he said, smiling eagerly at her. “You’ve done well. I couldn’t manage any of this without you.”

“Glad you realize that,” she said with a smirk. “I’ll disguise you so you’re not recognized when we fetch the boy from the kitchen. I brought you a tunic to wear,” she said, opening her cloak and revealing a small satchel. Inside was a black tunic with the white boar insignia. She helped Owen rebuckle his scabbard after he donned the disguise. She cinched the buckle and stuffed the added leather through the band. “Wish we had time to shave you before going,” she said, shaking her head. “Severn’s knights aren’t bearded. I’ll have to use magic to disguise you.”

Owen nodded, and they left the inn together, walking rapidly across the bridge. Somewhere a rooster called, the sound barely noticeable amidst the rush of the waterfall. Owen tugged on his gloves as the chill of morning crept into his hands. He looked at Etayne and saw puffs of mist coming from her mouth.

“It’s not normally this cold,” he said, looking up at a sky thick with gray clouds that hid the stars. “It’s already happening.”

She shuddered and nodded, holding her arms to her chest for warmth as they walked briskly. Etayne showed her Espion ring at the gatehouse, and then they slipped into the woods to approach the palace from the secret entrance. It was dark, and the woods looked menacing in the dimness, putting Owen in mind of the woods in Brythonica where he’d found the silver bowl and the marble slab. Memories of his battle with the black knight made his insides crawl. When they reached the kitchen, Liona and her husband were feeding the boy a buttery roll in the corner. The kitchen was empty but for them. The boy looked tousled and tired, and his brow furrowed when he saw Owen enter. He said nothing, keeping his thoughts to himself.

“Hello, Drew,” Owen said.

“Would you like something to eat?” Liona asked him. Her husband patted the young man’s shoulder and Owen noticed how silver his hair had become of late.

“I’ll have breakfast with the king,” Owen said, although his stomach did complain at his refusal. “Come with me, lad. There is a place I would like to take you.”

Drew looked at him for a long moment before nodding. Owen tried to hide his disappointment that the lad wasn’t as demonstrative with him as he’d been with Lord Horwath. But then, Owen’s own unhappiness had made him a poor uncle figure. He promised himself that would change.

After stuffing the rest of the roll into his mouth, Drew stood and followed Owen and Etayne out of the kitchen. They walked around the edge of the castle wall toward the yard leading down the hill to the quays. Owen and Evie had wandered the grounds together as children, and he found he still knew the way.

“I’m cold,” Drew said, chafing his arms.

“Here, walk between us,” Etayne said, drawing him up next to them. “That should help.”

Drew gave her a suspicious look, then turned his gaze back to Owen as he walked. “Where are we going?”

“There’s something I wanted to show you,” Owen said. “You won’t understand it now, but you will later.”

“I’m tired,” Drew complained.

“So am I,” Owen said, trying to curb his impatience. “But a knight must learn to fight even if he’s cold and tired.”

“That’s true,” the boy said thoughtfully.

They had to cut across a lawn as they approached the gatehouse leading to the docks. He made a subtle gesture to Etayne, and she summoned her magic to disguise him as a common soldier. Her magic seeped from her like a delicate breeze.

Two guards wearing the badge of the white boar stood watch at the doors. Owen could hear voices rising from the dock beyond. One of the guards held up his hand, warning them to slow their approach.

“Shhh,” the guard said, shaking his head. When they reached him, Owen caught sight of the scene beyond the latticework bars of the gate. His heart skipped fast. Two canoes had been set down on the path, and the soldiers who had hefted them were milling around.

Kathryn was kneeling beside the boat that contained the body of her husband. She wept over it with grief and misery. A white mist came from her mouth as she gasped and swallowed and sobbed. Owen’s heart panged him to see her in such a state. Severn. Severn had done this. Etayne’s eyes narrowed with simmering fury.

Drew wrapped his little hands on the bars and watched the woman who, unbeknownst to him, was his mother.

“Poor lady,” the boy whispered. “She’s my friend.”

“Give her time to mourn, lad,” the soldier said softly to the boy. The soldier looked at Owen, though he didn’t recognize him through the disguise. “He jumped down the tower stairs last night,” he whispered with a grimace. “Broke himself on the floor. Like Tunmore. Poor fool knew he was going in the river today. Poor, poor fool.”

Owen joined Drew at the gate, his heart wrenching with pain. He clasped the boy’s shoulder with his hand. The lad had a dark countenance, a look of sadness.

“Why did you want me to come?” Drew asked, looking up at Owen, and then started when he saw a stranger’s face looking back.

It was time to finally tell him the truth. That was why he’d brought him here. “It’s all right, lad. It’s still me,” he whispered.

Before he could continue, he heard the unmistakable shuffle-step coming from the path behind them. The halting limp he had known since he was Drew’s age.

Severn was coming.