by Jeff Wheeler
He took a step closer. “Did you . . . feel something, damoselle?” he asked in a whisper, his eyes still locked on hers. The feeling struck her again, even more forcefully this time. It was as if he were now looking inside her soul, laying bare her secrets.
“I’m more than a little intimidated,” she said, trying to feign lightness. “You have such a reputation, Lord Hux.”
He smiled, pleased, and the feelings abated once again. He bowed. “I have deep respect for the Duke of Warrewik,” he said. “My master considers him a friend. It was not his fault your king reneged on his promise to marry my master’s sister. She was devastated, I assure you. Well, damoselle. I am certain our paths will cross again in the future. Ceredigion and Occitania have been enemies for a great number of years. That shall provide us with ample opportunity to discuss affairs of state.” He paused, weighing his words more carefully. “If you ever find that your master’s . . . prospects . . . have diminished . . . How can I put this delicately? Should his ambitions and plans not come to fruition and you find yourself in need of friendly advice, then I adjure you, damoselle, to seek out my master. You have skills, I think, that you are . . . as yet . . . unaware of. I believe my master would value them highly.”
Leaving the letter in her hand and the offering lingering in the air between them, he bowed once again and abandoned her room. Her wrist was sore from squeezing the handle of the dirk so hard.
Ankarette had dropped a coin into the fountain earlier out of superstition, and it would seem her prayer had been granted. The servants and pages were carrying her chest up the gangway of Duke Warrewik’s ship when Sir Thomas appeared at the railing. He waited for them to clear the path before he came strutting down it himself.
The two years had changed him, but she would have recognized his face anywhere, even with his unshaven appearance. He was broader in the shoulders and had a more confident bearing. She had changed too—she had become a woman since they’d last met—and he gave her a startled look as he approached.
Her studies at the school had trained her to notice the many small things that revealed someone before they even spoke. His slightly raised eyebrows showed he was admiring her.
“Well met, Ankarette,” he said in his waning Northern brogue. “Look at you, lass.” He shook his head in bewilderment. “Has it really been two years? May it have been longer? My, what a pretty lass you’ve become. How are you? I asked for this assignment and am glad the duke granted it.”
“I am well, Sir Thomas,” she answered, careful not to flush. She kept herself calm and poised. There was no hint of an accent in her voice now.
He gave her a playful butt with his elbow as he came to stand next to her. Then he held out his arm, silently offering to escort her up the gangplank. He wore the duke’s badge on his tunic.
In short order, they were underway. He said they’d reach Kingfountain by dawn if not sooner. The sailors crawled through the nest of ropes and sails, and she watched with fascination as they went about their work. Her luggage was stowed in her room near the captain’s quarters, and soon they were off. She felt melancholy again as she stood alone at the side of the ship, watching the island kingdom pass into the distance.
The sound of his boots announced him. She would have recognized his tread anywhere.
“You’ll have returned to Ceredigion just in time,” Thomas said, planting his hands on the railing. “The queen is ripe as a melon.”
“How has she handled the pregnancy so far?” Ankarette asked, trying to keep the conversation in calm waters, although she was anxious to learn as much as she could before arriving home. She had many questions she wished to ask about the gossip she had heard.
“Patiently, for her part,” he answered with a look. “I think Eredur is more anxious than she is. But the queen’s had a very calming influence on him. She’s very deliberate.”
“Should we be seen talking like this?” she asked him, noticing some of the sailors were motioning at them and grinning. It didn’t take much imagination to suspect the nature of their thoughts.
Thomas looked over his shoulder and flashed the sailors a scowl. They quickly went back to work. “We both work for the same men, do we not?” he answered with a quiet chuckle. “I’m sure you’ll be wanting news?”
“I would be grateful, yes.”
He shook his head and chuckled. “Always curious. Always thinking. That’s what I like about you, lass. These last two years have been difficult. As you know, Eredur promoted his father-in-law as a duke of the realm. He’s also done things for other members of his lady’s family, much to the wrath of Warrewik and Dunsdworth. One of her sisters married Lord Bletchley, for example. Warrewik was furious. Each move has increased Eredur and Elyse’s power and diminished the duke’s influence. The two are hardly civil to each other right now. It’s getting bad, Ankarette.”
She sighed. “I can imagine so. I heard the old king was arrested and put in the tower?”
“Aye,” he replied, a distant look in his eyes. “I put him there myself.”
“You did?” she said, surprised.
He snorted. “He’s daft, he is. May the Fountain bless him. Nearly every word he speaks is gibberish. I don’t see how any man could swear to serve someone so incapable of kingly duties. He’s a puppet. And yet, as long as he lives, there will be men who will fight to put him back on the throne. Eredur is the true king. But there’s still Morvared and her plotting and treason to contend with. She’s not content to linger in Occitania with her boy. The Espion are watching her closely. Visitors come often to her estate.” He shook his head. “It’s not over yet. Let’s see, what else. You missed the war with Genevar while you were gone.”
“The trade war?” Ankarette asked.
“Aye. Hardly worth talking about.” He scratched his scruffy chin. “The biggest news, though, is the row between Eredur and his brother.”
“Not Severn, surely?”
He wrinkled his nose. “No, Eredur and Severn are tight as drums. The lad’s only fifteen, but he’s every bit a man grown. Severn is trusted and he’s loyal. He’s watching the North for his brother. No, I’m talking about Dunsdworth. He asked to marry Isybelle again. Demanded it, actually.”
Ankarette had not heard any gossip about that, nor had Isybelle said anything in her periodic letters.
“Eredur said no, surely?” she assumed.
“Aye. How could the king say yes? It would give Warrewik everything he wants and legitimize Dunsdworth as a rival to the throne. The situation is coming to a head, Ankarette. And it all hinges on you.” He gave her a pointed look. “If the queen has a son, there could be war. It isn’t happenchance that the duke has summoned you to the palace, lass. We both know that. He’s got it fixed in his mind that Dunsdworth should be king. And he’s got it fixed in Dunsdworth’s mind as well.” His look was dark and serious. “Are you ready for this, lass? I know this river and see where it’s headed. It goes straight toward the falls.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Deconeus
When Ankarette arrived at Kingfountain palace with Sir Thomas, she did not come through the main doors as she had done with the duchess’s retinue. There were no crowds thronging the streets this time, no one gawking at the duke’s badge. They entered the grounds through a porter door along the lower wall of the palace grounds and then marched up the hillside trail to the next defenses. They spoke unceasingly as they made the journey—Ankarette was hungry to know everything he would tell her, and Sir Thomas did not hesitate to answer her questions.
The knight led the way to the duke’s chamber through the Espion tunnels, and Ankarette, whose prodigious memory had been trained to be even sharper in Pisan, set her mind to the task of memorizing the way, noticing little markers to help distinguish the paths.
When they reached a certain spot, she stopped him. “Isn’t this the way to the king’s chamber?”
He craned his neck and then nodded. “The duke’s chamber is along the same path. Y
ou remembered?”
“It seemed familiar,” she replied, storing away the memory. Because it was daytime, they encountered other Espion in the tunnels. But the other men knew Sir Thomas on sight and no one challenged them or asked for an explanation for her presence.
As they approached the duke’s chamber, she felt the subtle flow of Fountain waters. It put her on her guard immediately. There was no change in Sir Thomas’s demeanor at all. If he heard the sound or felt it, he showed no indication. The closer they got to his chambers, the more the feeling intensified. Would they find the duke with the Occitanian herald? She still carried his note in a pocket sewn into her gown.
“Is the duke alone?” she asked, touching Sir Thomas’s shoulder.
He gave her a baffled look. “Likely not. It’s midmorning. Why?”
She shook her head but could not escape the foreboding feeling in her heart. There was an Espion slouched near the spy hole outside the duke’s room, arms folded with a bored look on his face. He squinted as they approached.
“Sir Thomas?” he asked.
“Aye, Bennet,” the other replied. “Is the duke here?”
“He’s meeting with the deconeus,” the Espion said, jabbing his thumb toward the room. He turned and gazed into the spy hole.
“That’s no matter,” Sir Thomas said with a shrug. “Tunmore knows about the Espion tunnels. Come on, lass. Warrewik will be grateful to know you’ve returned home.”
The Espion on guard duty tripped the latch and swung open the door. Sir Thomas ducked his head before entering the chamber. Ankarette followed, her stomach roiling with nerves. The years had not done much to change the deconeus of Our Lady—he wore his dark hair in the same shorn style, and his posture and demeanor seemed haughty. The duke was bent over a table, quill in hand, signing a paper. The deconeus’s eyes were riveted on the paper, and Ankarette sensed the rippling feeling growing more pronounced now that she was inside the room.
“There, that should conclude the matter,” the duke said, setting down the quill. The feeling of power instantly evaporated.
“Thank you for your time, my lord,” the deconeus said smoothly. He bowed his head in respect.
“We’ve known each other for years, John,” the duke said amiably. “You know I’m always willing to do another favor for a friend.”
“Indeed. I knew I could count on you.” The deconeus bowed again before his gaze shifted to the new arrivals.
The duke took notice of them too. “Welcome back, Sir Thomas! Another successful mission. Our little midwife has blossomed into a rose. Look at you, Ankarette!” He smiled with pleasure, as if relishing the gleaming new possession his knight had brought home from Pisan.
“My, you’ve grown.” He rubbed his mouth, nodding in satisfaction. “The reports from the school were very good. You’ve worked hard there and with distinction. You may not know this, but even the noble deconeus here recommended that I send you to Pisan after I first met you in Dundrennan. He saw potential in you. As did I.”
“Excuse me, if you would,” the deconeus said curtly. He gathered up the paper and stowed it away. “I must return to the sanctuary. Good day.”
“As you will, John. Never too busy for a friend.” He waved with disinterest, his eyes still keenly studying Ankarette. She felt abashed by his scrutiny, but her intuition told her there was some bond they shared—a communion with the Fountain’s power. She was determined to learn more.
“Sir Thomas, would you notify the queen that Ankarette has returned?” Warrewik asked. “It’s important that they get to know each other at long last.”
Sir Thomas nodded, gave Ankarette a wary look, and then disappeared back into the secret passage. She had a suspicion he and Bennet would linger at the spy hole to watch them.
The duke riffled through some papers on the desk. “I trust the journey was without incident?” he asked.
“Indeed, my lord. The weather was calm.”
“My ships from Callait patrol the waters along the coast. I made certain there would be no disruptions. You’re a valuable prize now, Ankarette.” He glanced up from his papers, his eyes full of meaning. “Very valuable.”
“I am grateful for the opportunity you have given me, my lord.”
He nodded, pleased by her answer. “I was going to ask Sir Thomas to escort you to the manor at Marshaw. You deserve a chance to see your mother. She has her own ladies and servants now. A very respectable widow in the county. I’ve spared no expense.” His look was not difficult to interpret. He was impressing on her that her mother was under his power. That he controlled the fate of both Tryneowy women. She’d learned the subtle arts of politics in Pisan. Never shout when a firm voice will do. Never a firm voice when a whisper suffices. Never a whisper if a sigh says it all. And sometimes a glance is powerful enough to convey the true meaning.
She received his unspoken message. “You’ve been very generous, my lord. I’m aware of everything you’ve done for my mother and me. I’ve tried to express my gratitude in my letters to you, but the words feel too small.”
He smiled smugly. Her groveling was not totally insincere, but people tended not to balk from a sweet, regardless of the giver’s intentions.
“Before I left Pisan, I was given a message from Lord Hux to deliver to your hand.”
“Indeed?” the duke said with relish, eagerness brightening his eyes. She produced the sealed letter and handed it to him. After breaking the seal, he quickly perused the document, his lips moving quietly as he decoded the cipher. He rubbed his mouth and stuffed the letter into his pocket. “Good, very well.”
“My lord, you are aware that Lord Hux is a poisoner?” Ankarette asked.
“Yes, of course,” the duke replied with conviction. “Probably tried to recruit you to Lewis’s side, hmmm?”
Ankarette controlled her expression, giving off an air of unconcern. “You know King Lewis well,” she replied with a bow. “Yes, he did.”
“And I knew you would tell me he did,” the duke said with satisfaction. “It’s the height of bad manners to try stealing what someone else has paid for. Of course, Lewis would never do that. We are friends. I have his full support and confidence. He’s a great ally.” Again, his words implied more than what he was saying.
He rubbed his mouth and leaned back against the desk. “Come closer,” he bid her. She felt her anxiety grow. He was purposefully positioning her so that she blocked the spy hole. His voice was very low.
“I’m grateful you are back, Ankarette. The queen is worried about her pregnancy. I’d like you to visit with her. To befriend her. She needs to have confidence in your skills. You know the dangers that come in the birthing chamber. Every woman must face them with bravery. You have all the skills needed to ensure the babe arrives safely into this world.” His eyes crinkled. “But alas, many do not survive the first few hours. The mother is weakened by the ordeal. She is vulnerable to sickness and languishing. Many babies, through no fault of anyone, simply are not robust enough to thrive.” He gave her a pointed look and shook his head. “It would be such a pity if that happened to the king’s babe. Especially a son.” His eyes bore into hers, his gaze fiercely intense and deliberate. She knew what he was asking, and it made her blood run cold.
Without saying the words, he was ordering her to kill the babe if it were a boy. He had impressed on her the sense of duty and obligation she owed him. He had made a point of reminding her that her mother was under his control. Part of her shriveled inside.
“Go see the queen,” he said coaxingly, touching her arm in a fatherly way. “Then you can see Isybelle. She’s anxious to be reunited with you. Every letter you sent her, she shared with me.”
In other words, he’d made sure to spy on Ankarette’s correspondence. Of course, she’d expected as much.
“I am eager to see her as well,” Ankarette said. “Thank you for providing this opportunity, my lord.” She met his gaze with her own. “The king might be disappointed, though. The babe might
be a girl.”
Warrewik shrugged. “If it please the Fountain.”
The day was waning when Ankarette entered the gates of the sanctuary of Our Lady. Her heart was heavy with conflict. She had enjoyed her visit with Elyse. She had shared with the queen and the king the implied order to kill their son if the babe was a boy. The queen’s face had gone pale, but she had not overreacted. She’d squeezed her husband’s hands while Eredur’s eyes smoldered with rage and the desire for vengeance. But Warrewik was canny. He had not given her the order directly. There was no evidence other than her word and training. He could not be brought to the Assizes and tried for treason, for he had not said anything worthy of death. Everything had been implied.
The queen had asked for Ankarette’s opinion, following the examination, as to whether she was carrying a boy. There were all sorts of rumors and superstitions about how a woman carried differently if the babe was a boy or a girl, but Ankarette didn’t subscribe to any of them. Only the Fountain knew the sex of the child. And that knowledge would not be revealed until the birthing chamber.
Eredur knew Ankarette was in a tenuous position. If the babe was a boy and the poisoner did nothing, it would show her true allegiance. The king had promised to protect her from Warrewik’s wrath.
She walked across the grounds and climbed the steps to the sanctuary. The white and black marble tiles were arranged in an alternating pattern like a giant Wizr board. There were families gathered around the edge of the largest fountain. Little children tossed coins into the water, each small piece of metal accompanied by wishes and prayers.
She stood alone by the edge of the bubbling pool, listening to the sound of the waters. What could she do? The situation was a thorny problem. She couldn’t kill a babe. The very idea sickened her.
In the poisoner school, she had learned that most nobles killed each other for rank and power. Very few poisoners were ever asked to dispatch infants, although she had been trained in the best ways to accomplish it. She closed her eyes a moment, listening to the sound of the water, falling deeper into her thoughts. How could she protect the queen’s babe without betraying Warrewik? If she thought about it hard enough, she was sure she could come up with a solution.