by Jeff Wheeler
Ankarette crossed the border into Westmarch well after sunset by following that beacon of light she’d seen emanating from the waters of the fountain in the village square. There were no soldiers guarding the woods, and to see the way again, she just needed to draw on her Fountain magic to summon that string of light.
She did not know what the lines of light meant. But she was grateful to her magic for showing them to her in her hour of need.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Fearful
The roar of the falls faded slightly as Ankarette and her escorts from Westmarch cantered up the road to the fortress of Kingfountain. Duke Kiskaddon had insisted on sending protection with her. She’d told the duke about the merchants who were being kept in the village against their will, and he was preparing a force to retaliate and set them free.
She left her mount with a palace groomsman, then walked urgently into the castle. She recognized one of the Espion she trusted, Bennet, and told him to alert the king that she had arrived and needed to see him at once. Her magic was seriously depleted and she needed to rest, but neither situation could be addressed before she saw the king.
Bennet found her a short while later and said the king was meeting with his war council and wanted her to wait for him in the solar.
While she sat alone in the solar, she couldn’t help but think about the ramifications of her mission. Though she felt assured of her success, she worried that making an ally out of the Duke of Clare would only sow seeds for more trouble in the future. Why had Isybelle married such an ambitious, self-interested man? Love was such a dangerous thing . . .
The sound of approaching steps alerted her of an impending arrival and she backed away from the sturdy table and assumed a formal air. The door opened and Sir Thomas came in first, followed by Eredur and Elyse. The queen’s walk showed the discomfort of her pregnancy.
Sir Thomas strode up to her eagerly, his face animated with a look of relief and genuine delight. His eyes instantly went to the sutures and bruises at her eyebrow.
“You were injured,” he said in a low, furtive way, the smile melting from his face.
“It was nothing,” she answered, a little pleased by his show of concern.
“Ankarette!” Eredur beamed. He came forward and took her shoulders. He too noticed the marks on her face, but his manners were unflappable. “I hope you gave as good as you got.”
Elyse approached and smoothed back Ankarette’s hair. Her expression was one of friendly concern, and she winced at the signs of violence.
“Who did this to you?” Sir Thomas pressed.
“Some Occitanian soldiers who mistook me for a merchant’s daughter,” Ankarette answered. “In a border village near Westmarch. There’s some trouble there that Duke Kiskaddon has pledged to handle. I just came from Tatton Hall. I am fine, and the news I bring is of far more consequence.”
“And timely,” Eredur said, tapping his chin. “You are back more quickly than I thought possible. Poor Tom has been moping for days in agitation.”
“My lord,” Sir Thomas complained.
“I’m jesting, Tom. But only in part. Truly, he’s been worried about you. You left for Callait. Did Vauclair tell you where to find Warrewik? Did you treat with my brother?”
Ankarette still felt shaken by the king’s words—and by Sir Thomas’s embarrassed reaction—but she steadied herself. “Captain Vauclair cannot be trusted,” she said pointedly. “He’s duping both Warrewik and you. He’s in the pocket of King Lewis.”
“I knew it,” Sir Thomas growled in frustration.
Eredur’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure? I was more worried about his loyalty to my uncle.”
“I am. The soldiers are loyal to Warrewik, I think, but Vauclair turned your uncle away and wouldn’t let him land. I don’t think many of his men know what happened. I believe Vauclair deliberately poisoned Isybelle. He and Lord Hux are friends. None of this was done for you, however, but upon the Spider King’s orders.”
The king and queen both blanched.
Ankarette steeled herself to continue. “Isybelle’s son died during childbirth in the harbor outside Callait. Vauclair wouldn’t let her in to be seen by a doctor. Instead, he sent a bottle of wine. He tried to poison me as well.” She smiled dangerously. “He did not succeed.”
“Poor Isybelle,” Elyse whispered, shaking her head with a look of maternal sympathy.
Ankarette nodded, grateful for the show of sympathy—even more so because it was clearly genuine.
“I am grateful you realized his duplicity before being caught in his web yourself,” Eredur said, shaking his head in wonder. “When I sent you there, I didn’t see the risk you were taking.”
“I’m a decent judge of character.”
“So you poisoned Vauclair instead?” he offered, encouraging her to continue the story.
“I did. I learned that Warrewik has found refuge with King Lewis.”
Sir Thomas started. “None of the Espion in Pree have seen any sign of him. I have two men in the palace.”
“He’s not in Pree. He’s at Lord Hux’s estate called Shynom.”
“That’s in the hinterlands of Occitania,” Eredur said, nodding sagely. “It used to be one of the Argentine fortresses centuries ago.”
“I took a Genevese ship to Ploemeur and crossed to Shynom on horseback. No one took notice of me because I was wearing Warrewik’s badge. His people were everywhere. I arrived just in time to learn about the wedding . . . Warrewik has married his younger daughter, Nanette, to the mad king’s son, Prince Ardric. Morvared and Hux are in league with each other. Both are undoubtedly doing the will of King Lewis. There will be an invasion, my lord. And soon.”
Elyse reached for Eredur’s arm. He looked dizzied and baffled by the news. “How could he?” he said to himself in disgust. “How could he stoop so low?”
Ankarette rose to her feet and stepped forward. “You must understand, my lord. Warrewik has always wanted his daughter to be Queen of Ceredigion. It is the driving force behind everything he has done. When you would not have Isybelle, he looked to Dunsdworth next. But now that path has failed also.”
“But did you get to see Dunsdworth?” Sir Thomas asked. “This new alliance must be bitter wine for him to drink.”
“Indeed,” Ankarette answered. “Yes, I’ve seen him and spoken with him.”
“Well done, lass!” Sir Thomas said.
“And what did he say?” Eredur pressed. “Do I dare get my hopes up? He is stubborn and ambitious.”
“A family trait, I think,” the queen offered with a slightly mocking smile. “Judging by her expression, I think she brings good news.”
Ankarette had tried to keep her expression more neutral, but the moment felt too heady for her to quite manage it. “I do bring good news with the bad,” she continued. “Your brother recognizes that his position is even more diminished than before. He sees this new marriage as a betrayal, and the Occitanian court has treated him with derision. He and Isybelle are pariahs now. I told him all would be forgiven if he supported you. He agreed to do so.”
Eredur squeezed his fist and grinned broadly. “You didn’t manage to smuggle either of them back with you, did you?”
“No, that was beyond my ability and resources,” she confessed. “But I did give him instructions. Their plan is for Warrewik to reclaim the mad king’s throne while Queen Morvared waits in Occitania with her son. Only once his position is assured will she cross the border. Isybelle is to be kept in Pree as a hostage for Dunsdworth’s obedience. I advised him to follow every command given to him, telling not even his captain that he has switched sides. He will approach your army while appearing to obey Warrewik’s orders, and then you must send an emissary to him. He will then fall in with you. It’s as if a white piece is masquerading as a black one on the Wizr board. When the time comes, I will save Isybelle and her sister.”
Sir Thomas scratched his head. “It doesn’t offer much by way of support, but it’s a
success any way you look at it.”
Ankarette beamed. “Thank you, but the mission did not go perfectly. Lord Hux may have known I was there. He and the queen came to see Isybelle and Dunsdworth while I was in the room, although I did hide.”
Sir Thomas started pacing. “What do we do about the prisoner in the tower?” he asked Eredur with a meaningful tone.
Eredur stood stone-faced. “I’ll not hurt that harmless man,” he said. “And it wouldn’t do any good, besides. It would only make Prince Ardric even more valuable.”
Sir Thomas nodded. “Certainly, but should we move him? What if Warrewik strikes at Kingfountain? You could have Stiev Horwath take the prisoner to Dundrennan.”
“A good topic to discuss in council,” Eredur said. He turned and faced Ankarette and then stepped forward and took her hands. “I cannot tell you how helpful you’ve been. You have served me well, Ankarette. Thank you for your loyalty.”
“You are welcome,” she answered.
Eredur went to Elyse and offered his arm to help her stand. The queen smiled kindly at Ankarette. “You are appreciated more than you know,” she said. Their gratitude made every risk worthwhile, and she had the thrilling feeling of knowing she’d helped the king and queen.
The royal couple left the solar, but Sir Thomas lingered at the doorway, watching as Eredur and Elyse went down the hall. He sighed and butted his head against the doorframe.
“Are you all right?” she asked him, coming closer and touching his arm.
He had a sheepish smile. There was a mix of feelings in his eyes and he gave her a strange look. The roil of emotions she sensed baffled her.
“I’ve been a wreck since you left,” he said softly, carefully, deliberately. He twisted his neck and gazed at her. “I’ve been worried about you. Sick with worry, actually. I knew you were capable. It wasn’t that. And I can’t say how relieved I am that you made it back safely and with useful intelligence.” His lips pressed together. He was wrestling with something inside, and she felt her heart beat faster.
“I’m proud of you, Ankarette. I hadn’t prepared myself before you left. Prepared myself for how I would feel if something happened to you. I’ve been in the Espion a long time. Missions fail. They don’t always end in success.” His gaze was tender as he looked at the bruise on her brow and the stitches. “Who did the sutures? Your mother?”
Ankarette nodded, suddenly unable to speak.
“I should have known,” he said, smiling smugly. “I’m sorry you took a blow. If I had been there, I would have killed the man for touching you.”
His look frightened her, and yet it filled her with sunrays of hope. He felt something for her after all . . . her departure had pained him. It was a delicious moment, one that she would think on multiple times when her heart was no longer afire.
“They thought I was a merchant’s daughter,” she said simply. “That they could do what they wished with me.”
“You could pass for someone much older,” he said, folding his arms. “A merchant’s wife, mayhap?” He shook his head. “An awkward jest. I’m sorry.”
What was he trying to say? What was he implying? She felt vulnerable in that moment, looking into his eyes. The ground between them had shifted during her journey. She was in unfamiliar territory.
She wanted him to kiss her—and she suddenly feared that he would.
The noise of bootsteps came down the hall. Ankarette stepped back, realizing they were standing very close together. It was Bennet the Espion.
“Come quickly,” he said, his breath harried.
“What has happened?” Sir Thomas asked with concern.
“Word just arrived. Atabyrion has invaded the North.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Indecision
In the days that followed, the uncertainty in Kingfountain became more pronounced. King Iago of Atabyrion had landed troops in the North and was attacking villages in the hinterlands. The king’s council decided to send Stiev Horwath to drive the invaders away, lest Iago’s presence create a foothold for Warrewik’s force. Atabyrion and Occitania had a long history of uniting their forces against the might of Ceredigion.
The news about the Atabyrions’ attack was followed shortly after by word from Duke Kiskaddon that a large Occitanian force led by the Duke of Brythonica was assembling at Averanche. It seemed poised to strike at Westmarch, or possibly Kingfountain itself.
Ankarette felt the mounting tension of the conflict grow day by day. Her health was returning, and she had been feverishly stitching to restore all her lost Fountain magic. She wanted to be useful again, to lend assistance to her king. After days of not being summoned, she made her way through the Espion tunnels to the Star Chamber, where she found Sir Thomas poring over correspondence from the many new Espion recruits scattered through the kingdom. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked as if he hadn’t slept in days.
He glanced up from the desk, midway through a letter, and then tossed it aside and leaned back in his stuffed chair.
“Ankarette,” he breathed with a weary sigh. “You’re looking much recovered.”
“And you’re looking much worse,” she said, shutting the secret door behind her. “What news, Sir Thomas?”
He rubbed the stubble on his chin and then shook his head with helpless frustration. “None of it is good. The Atabyrions are hitting hard. They’ve avoided a pitched battle, preferring to stay on the move. Horwath’s men are stretched thin and he’s asked for reinforcements, which we can ill afford to give.” Another sigh escaped his mouth.
“And Westmarch?”
“Duke Montfort is a mystery,” he said. “We’ve never had any Espion in Brythonica before. Your quick trip through Ploemeur has been our only source of intelligence from that land. Kiskaddon is skittish. He’s expecting the brunt of Warrewik to hit Westmarch first, and he’s asking the king for reinforcements too. Which side to aid? Or neither?” He frowned. “The king is racked with indecision. And so he delays, and the people are growing more concerned day by day.”
Ankarette went to the desk and stood over his shoulder, looking at the mass of papers strewn across the surface.
“Has the king chosen a new master of the Espion yet?”
“It’s me for now,” he said, gesturing toward the heap. “As little as I care for it. There is so much to read and decipher. I crave action, not words. But without these scraps of paper, we are totally blind. With them . . . we’re confused. I’m not sure which is worse.”
“When did you last sleep?” she asked, feeling the urge to rub his shoulders. He looked so weary, so miserable, and she longed to comfort him.
He let out a small chuckle. “I’ve stolen a snatch of time here and there. It’s all so insufferably vague. It’s like playing Wizr, except one cannot see the moves in play. And there are multiple hands guiding the pieces.”
“You need to get some rest,” she said. “Your mind is spent. Let me help. I can read letters you haven’t. Maybe I will see a connection you do not.”
He turned his head and looked up at her, a relieved smile twitching his mouth. “I would be grateful. I haven’t dared to sleep for fear that some bit of vital news would arrive the moment I took some rest. Most of the reports are mundane and useless. But I have to read each one. It’s true, you might see something I’ve missed.”
She smiled at him. “Show me where to start.”
He stood and began to sort through the massive heap, explaining which of the letters he had read already, which he had postponed reading, and how an Espion courier would soon return and add more to the stack.
“Bless your heart, Ankarette,” he said, smiling in relief. “I wouldn’t trust any man to do this work for me. But I trust you.”
In the hours that followed, Ankarette immersed herself in the wayward world of spies and deception. Some of the reports she read were responses to inquests Sir Thomas had made of Warrewik’s past servants and allies. Some were reports overheard in taverns throughout the r
ealm. She enjoyed the work immensely. Each message was a sign of life from the kingdom, like the ragged intake of breath, the throbbing pulse of a heart. It felt as if Ceredigion was some breathing, living thing.
There was one letter she wished she had not found. It had been tucked beneath a stack at a crooked angle. The handwriting was different from the rest, a woman’s hand.
Sir Thomas,
I must beg you not to importune me with further letters. My mind is quite fixed on marrying your brother.
I have waited and waited for news of your promotion, only to have my hopes continually dashed. For years, I have waited to see your promises fulfilled. I have been patient, or tried my best to be. It was too much to hope that your connection to the king would result in you receiving a title or lands of your own.
Things have changed. I wish you well. But in doing this, I must please others before myself. I am fond of you, Sir Thomas, and always will be. When father returns from crushing these knaves from Edonburick, I will ask him to settle the arrangement with your brother. We must remain friends apart.
Elysabeth Horwath
Ankarette gently folded the letter and carefully put it back where she had found it, wedging it beneath the stack of discarded correspondence. No wonder Thomas’s spirits were so depressed. He had fostered ambitions for years of becoming a noble in his own right. It was apparent that Elysabeth would only have him if he succeeded. A snip of disappointment cut into Ankarette.