The King's Traitor (The Kingfountain Series Book 3) (9 page)

“Of course,” she answered, nodding slightly.

Owen heard an unfamiliar noise, the slight creak of door hinges being clandestinely shut. His hearing had always been especially keen—it was one of his abilities from the Fountain. Then there was the soft scuff of a padded shoe on the marble floor.

Etayne heard it as well, and there was a thin knife in her hand in an instant. She always kept it strapped to her forearm beneath her gown. Owen had not changed out of his dusty traveling clothes, so he still had his sword strapped to him. He gestured for Etayne to stay put and she shook her head no.

Owen took a hesitant step to the side of the balcony door, angling his body sideways to provide less of a target if someone had come with a bow. The drapes by the balcony concealed whoever was in the room, but he could see a shadow moving slowly, as if the intruder was searching for something hidden.

Etayne stepped forward, dagger behind her back, gripping the tip between her fingers in preparation to throw it. She pushed the curtain aside, and Owen caught a glimpse of the woman who had entered his chamber.

He gripped Etayne’s knife arm to prevent her from hurling the weapon.

A memory darted in Owen’s mind. Recognition. He blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. The woman was much older than the last time he’d seen her, probably thirty. She wore the fashionable gown of a lady-in-waiting, not a servant, and it fit her well. But it was her face that jarred him. He
knew
that face.

With the curtain flung aside, the woman saw him and Etayne on the balcony. When her eyes met his, she startled and gasped his name, her hand clutching her breast in surprise. “Owen! It’s you! It’s really you!”

His legs felt weak. The last time he had seen her was sixteen years ago when he watched her enter a boat bound for Occitania with his parents and other siblings. She was the oldest after Jorganon’s death.

It was his sister, Jessica Kiskaddon.

CHAPTER NINE

Haven

At first Owen doubted what his heart knew. So much time had passed since he had last seen his sister. In that fraught moment, he knew one thing: he
hoped
it was her. He could sense the Fountain’s whispers in the night air, but it was not coming from Jessica. And it did not reveal anything to him. His sister rushed to him and pulled him into a warm embrace. She touched him, kissed him, smearing wet tears on his cheek despite her attempts to wipe them away with her wrist, then stroked his hair affectionately, her fingers grazing the spot of white still embedded in his unruly locks.

“How are you here, Sister?” he demanded. It felt as if live coals were hissing in his chest. He had never thought to see her, to see any of them again. The wedding band on her finger winked up at him, telling him that she was a Kiskaddon no longer. His eyes feasted on her. She was family—something that had been sundered from his life for too long.

She hiccupped with emotion, shaking her head as she was unable to speak. She tried to quell her tears again and then gripped his shoulder. “It was going to be a surprise. The duchess wanted to share it with you when you arrived, but your coming was so fraught with tension.” She shook her head. “Mother will be so pleased.”

“Mother is here?” Owen said, eyes widening with shock.

Jessica nodded. “We are all
here
, Owen. You are the last. You who saved our family from extinction. But it was the duchess who saved us from starving.”

His heart ached at the words. “Tell me what happened. I’ve tried to find you, to make sure you were alive and well, but I’ve had no word for years! You should have sent me a message!”

She shook her head. “We could not. You must understand, Owen. Our lives here have been a closely guarded secret. When you defeated Chatriyon, we had to flee for our lives. You cannot understand the depths of the Occitanians’ hatred of you. Remember Azinkeep? The shame of it still haunts this land. And then you came to Chatriyon’s own land and humiliated him. You weren’t even a king but a duke. They sent a poisoner to kill us, but the duchess managed to smuggle us away. We’ve been living in Ploemeur these last few years. We were given new names, a manor house. Papan is in charge of overseeing taxes on the goods traded in our ports. It’s a position of great trust. I am one of the duchess’s ladies-in-waiting. She has been so good to us, Owen. She found me an honorable husband. Our brother Timond is a knight at court. Our sister Ann is here as well. We are so fortunate. But we had to keep our identities secret for fear of us being used to harm or threaten
you
.”

Owen stared at her, amazed at what he was hearing. “And Lady Sinia did this?”

Jessica nodded emphatically. “She is a noble woman, Owen. A generous and thoughtful soul. She’s lost both her parents, but there is no trace of bitterness. She was so young when she was named the Duchess of Brythonica. Without Marshal Roux’s craftiness and courage, we would have been invaded long ago. She was going to bring you to see us at our manor house, but I couldn’t bear to wait. I needed to touch you and make sure you were real.” She stroked his hair with a pained smile. “You are here. You look . . . rather ragged for a duke.” She sniffed and grimaced slightly. “I was expecting you would arrive in all your state. But you look and smell like a common soldier.”

“I am a soldier,” Owen said with a dark chuckle. “Fighting wars for the king has been my task in life. We’ve had no peace since Ambion Hill.”

Her eyes narrowed with some inner wisdom. “Nor will you, so I fear.”

He wrinkled his brow. “What do you mean, Jessica?”

“It is not my place to say,” she said, pressing her lips together tightly. “But this much I can tell you. There is a reason the duchess has chosen to stay as the ruler of Brythonica. Why she refused to become the Queen of Occitania when given the chance. Why she would refuse to become the Queen of Ceredigion if Severn were to demand it.”

“And what is that reason? Jessica, you must tell me if you know.”

She shook her head firmly. “I cannot, Owen. It is not my secret to share. The duchess will, if she trusts you.” She squirmed uncomfortably. “Owen . . . you look so old for one so young. I can see in your eyes how much suffering you have known. You cannot understand how much it grieved us to leave you behind. You saved us. We are not ungrateful; surely you must know that.” She hugged him again and planted a moist kiss on his cheek. “But our family was sundered that day. There has been the ghost of pain these many years. Maman and Papan will be so happy to see you. You must come soon, Owen. It will ease their anguish to see you again.”

Just hearing her endearments caused an ache of pain inside Owen’s bones. He was not a boy any longer. But the childhood hurts were still sore.

“I don’t understand why you couldn’t send word. Why the duchess didn’t tell me.” Despite how wonderful it felt to see her, to be near one who shared his blood, he was suspicious of her motives.

Jessica cupped his cheek. “I’ll send word to Maman that you are here. I live in the castle, naturally. I heard about how you arrived and made your demands.” She looked up to the ceiling and then shook her head. “You were very rude, Owen.”

Hearing it from his sister made the shame of his actions fester. “Well, I’ll admit my entrance was rather unconventional.”

“Now that’s calling a frog a goose!” she teased.

Owen laughed at the statement. “So I’m a frog, am I?”

“You are a handsome lad behind that dirt and dishevelment.” Her eyes narrowed slightly as she gazed over Owen’s shoulder. Her voice dropped very low. “Is that your mistress?”

She was talking about Etayne. He had almost forgotten she was in the room, amidst the storm of emotion. “No, of course not! She’s my . . . how shall I put this? She’s my protector.”

Jessica’s eyes lifted with surprise. “Very well, although that’s quite a mysterious answer. I will send word to Maman and Papan at once. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m so glad you have finally come!” She hugged and kissed him again and then stole away from the room, blowing him a last kiss as she quietly shut the door.

Owen folded his arms, still reeling from the revelations of the evening. He heard Etayne’s footsteps pad up to him.

His heart still raged with emotions. He blinked quickly, feeling close to tears, and pinched a few strands of his beard below his bottom lip and tugged at them.

“I’m glad you’re here, Etayne,” he said in a half whisper. “My emotions are being toyed with. I’m not even sure what to think right now.”

“So that was your sister. Are you certain it was her? I can feel Fountain magic all around us.”

“The endearments she used,” Owen said, nodding. “That’s what I used to call my mother and father.” His heart was roiling like one of Liona’s stews. “When you play Wizr and start losing, it’s easy to make mistakes. Often fatal ones. Why have my family been here for so many years without telling me? Are they hostages? Perhaps even willing ones?”

“Why would the duchess forbid your sister from seeing you? It seemed to me that she stole in here deliberately.”

Owen nodded. “Exactly. Was that happenstance? Or by design? This is an important game I’m playing. I already feel I’ve been outwitted. I came here to start a war, not a betrothal.” He turned and looked at Etayne. “I am betrothed, aren’t I? The reality is finally hitting me. I knelt down in front of witnesses and offered my hand and she said she’d take me. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Weren’t we supposed to negotiate terms or formulate a treaty at the very least?”

Etayne smiled with amusement. “Threat,” she said knowingly.

Owen shook his head. “Somehow she predicted it. Did you notice the look on her face?”

“Whose face?” Etayne asked.

“Lady Sinia’s. She almost looked relieved when I asked for her hand. She didn’t look upset at all. Why is that? Because she guessed correctly? Or does she stand to gain something from this union?”

Owen started to pace, wishing he had brought his tiles with him. He rarely used them to replenish his magic now, but this unexpected invocation of his childhood made him suddenly crave them.

“From what your sister said, it’s clear that you already have a reputation here. Whatever it was before has been compounded by how you acted once getting here. Let me see what I can find out tonight. What were they saying about you before you came and what are they saying about you now?”

“It can’t be pleasant,” Owen sniffed. “And it will not end pleasantly.” He looked hard into Etayne’s eyes. “I didn’t come here to get married,” he said flatly. “I can imagine the king’s reaction if he were told.” He mimicked Severn’s voice. “‘Good work, lad! You defeated them without a skirmish! Marry her, and let’s work on toppling Chatriyon.’ He won’t give five figs for my feelings.”

Etayne’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. “What? She’s not beautiful enough for you? I can imagine many men would eagerly marry her to inherit the duchy of Brythonica even if she were a homely girl.”

Owen didn’t like her mocking tone. “I gave my heart to another woman long ago.”

He fidgeted under Etayne’s stare, and his mind would not give him peace. Yes, he had given his heart to a woman. A woman who was now a queen in another realm and had two children of her own. Was he going to pine after her for the rest of his life? Would he cling to the hope that Iago might stumble during his hop on the rocks by the waterfalls and plummet to his death? Or perhaps he simply needed to admit to himself that Sinia intrigued him and he was actually considering a possibility he had never thought to contemplate.

Owen slept fitfully that night. Although his rooms were spacious and exquisitely comfortable, he was not used to them. Every little noise and sound disturbed his slumber and made him worry someone was trying to enter his room to murder him. He finally fell asleep just before sunrise, and when he awoke, light streamed in through the thin veils and stabbed at his eyes. It was midmorning, and he rarely slept in that late. His mind was muddy and confused. He unfastened the bolt on his door and found Farnes outside, pacing worriedly.

“Farnes?” he asked, blinking in surprise. He had left him in Tatton Hall to handle the guests.

“You’re awake,” the herald said with relief. “I was debating whether I should send for Captain Ashby to burst open the door. You normally don’t sleep this late.”

“I have a splitting headache,” Owen said. He noticed several trays of food set on tables outside the door. It had been locked, so no one had been able to enter and arrange it within his chamber.

Farnes followed him in and handed him a series of letters, many marked with Espion seals. He began breaking them open as his stomach growled noisily. While Owen started to read the first note, Farnes went to the door and snapped for a servant to bring in the food.

“How did you leave things with all those visitors at Tatton Hall?” Owen asked, tossing the letter aside. He was adept at reading quickly and remembering the key points after only a quick look. He felt the magic inside him stir with his efforts.

“You managed to offend each and every one of them,” Farnes said crisply, rocking on his heels, his hands clasped behind his back.

“I’m rather good at that these days,” Owen said with a chuckle, perusing the next letter.

“You didn’t
used
to be,” Farnes said pointedly.

Owen didn’t care for the rebuke or the tone. He gave Farnes a sour look. “What did you expect me to do, Farnes? They were uninvited guests preying on my hospitality while I had business elsewhere.”

“I’ve heard about your business,” Farnes said. “The problem is how you go about it. I apologize for being so candid, my lord, but I feel it’s my duty to tell you when you are creating diplomatic hazards for yourself. People are much more willing to remember a slight than a compliment. It’s like salting a well you’ll need to drink from later.”

He was only half listening to Farnes because the second message was from Kevan, telling him that Drew was being moved to the palace to be a playmate for Evie’s daughter. It did not surprise him, but he swore softly under his breath.

“Ill news, my lord?” Farnes asked worriedly.