The Thief's Daughter (12 page)

Owen shook his head defiantly. “I’ll figure out a way,” he said.

Mancini coughed a chuckle. “You do that, lad. But if I were in your place, I’d use this trip to Atabyrion to say good-bye. She is the proper marriageable age. She would make an excellent queen. You, on the other hand, haven’t even reached your full potential yet.”

“I thought we were allies,” Owen said with suppressed fury.

“I never deceived you,” Mancini said. “You did
that
to yourself.” He turned to leave, then paused and looked over his shoulder. “Etayne will keep an eye on the two of you.” He chuckled softly. “She is a masterpiece of treachery, Owen. I had her trained by the very best. Remember that she is loyal to
me
.”

When King Eredur was forced to leave Ceredigion, he took his younger brother Severn to the kingdom of Brugia with him. They were hosted by one of the princes of its great cities. King Eredur had a wandering eye, it is said. With so many rumors abounding about this pretender, one must simply consider all the possible options. Perhaps the boy has convinced so many he is Eredur’s son because he is a child of the previous king and bears his likeness. But that does not make him a prince.

—Polidoro Urbino, Court Historian of Kingfountain

CHAPTER TWELVE

Promises

Owen paced in his chambers, his mind whirling with schemes for how he could overthrow the king’s plot to marry Evie off to Iago Llewellyn of Atabyrion. He needed to talk to her, needed to see how she was handling such ill tidings. He hated the fretfulness and consternation caused by this turn of events. Finally, the bustles and creaks in the palace started to wane.

After tripping the latch to the secret door in his room, he fetched a candle and started off toward Evie’s chamber. He was grateful that he had spent so much time wandering the secret passages of the palace under Ankarette’s guidance. His mind wandered to the King’s Poisoner in the tower, Etayne, who had taken to wearing his friend’s gowns and jewels. It made him uneasy that she would be traveling with them to Atabyrion. But what worried him even more was that King Severn had charged Owen with judging whether she should use her abilities. Defeating someone in battle was one thing. Murdering him in the dark was quite another. The prospect of being involved in such a thing did not sit well with him.

Owen traced his hand along the walls, pausing at each intersection to touch the Espion signs giving directions. These were ancient catacombs, showing centuries of use. The air smelled musty, and the wind blowing through arrow slits made little ghostly sounds that had once filled him with fear.

When he reached Evie’s quarters, he tripped the latch and gave the door a little push. There was a midsized fire burning in the hearth and the sound of splashing water. Owen quickly realized he had walked into Evie’s chamber while she was bathing.

He heard a sharp intake of breath, a gasp, and then Justine was rushing toward him, holding up a towel to block his view. “Owen! You should not be here!” the girl scolded. “Have the courtesy to knock before sneaking into my lady’s room! Out, you must go!”

“Justine!” Evie said. “Don’t shoo him away so fast. Let me dry off. I’ll be but a moment.”

“My lady,” Justine said in a warning voice. “This is hardly proper!”

Owen heard the sound of water dripping on the floor rushes, and his cheeks went crimson with embarrassment. “No, I’ll leave. I’m sorry.”

“Wait for me!” Evie said, speaking in a voice that would brook no disobedience.

Justine stood there clenching her teeth, holding up the towel and giving him a look that was full of disapproval. Her voice dropped lower. “You should not have come, Owen. If you are caught here, there will be terrible consequences for you both.”

“I know, Justine,” Owen said. Although he couldn’t see Evie, he could hear her drying herself with a towel quickly. His embarrassment grew in intensity, to the point where he was starting to forget why he had come.

“I’m behind the changing screen,” Evie said. “Justine, help me. Grab my nightgown.”

Justine’s frown was more threatening than a spearhead. “You stay over there, my lord,” she urged him, thrusting the towel into his hand. Owen stepped back until he struck the wall by the Espion portal. His forehead was covered in a sheen of sweat, and he was almost tempted to flee for his life as Justine marched back to the changing screen. There were some muttered whispers from the other side, but not even his sharp hearing could make out what was said.

A few minutes later, Elysabeth Victoria Mortimer appeared from around the changing screen, finishing the final buttons of her nightdress. Her dark hair was damp from the water, and she was vigorously rubbing it with a small towel to dry it faster. She looked so pretty and intense, and the firelight revealed a little flush on her cheeks.

“Well, Owen Kiskaddon,” she whispered playfully, “if you’ve come to suggest we jump into the cistern tonight, you’re too late, I’m already wet.”

Justine gave her mistress a scolding look, but Owen barely noticed—he was too transfixed by Evie. As he watched the firelight dance across her gown, his embarrassment began melting away, replaced by more interesting emotions.

“Don’t be so shy, Owen,” Evie urged. “You’ve seen me like this before, in Dundrennan. Why did you come tonight? We both know it’s
dangerous
to be meeting like this.”

His tongue was thick in his mouth, and he felt a bit muddled, seeing her that way. She flung the hair towel to Justine, who caught it and muttered something under her breath.

“I had to see how you were doing,” Owen said awkwardly. “I’ve been miserable all day.”

Evie shook her head. “I haven’t. And you shouldn’t be either.”

He stared at her in disbelief. “But the king said—”

“Toss what he
said
, Owen.” She walked up to him and reached for his hands. The smell of scented soap still clung to her. Her fingers were wrinkled from the bathwater, but the rest of the skin on her hands felt warm and soft. “You know how Severn is. We both know he’s fond of testing his subjects’ loyalty. That’s exactly what I believe he’s doing. He’s testing our loyalty. Are we more loyal to him or to each other?”

Owen couldn’t help but frown. Holding her hands made his stomach flip around. He had the unbidden, though certainly not unfamiliar, urge to lean down and kiss her mouth, but he didn’t dare. She had been a part of his life for years now, and they had grown so close that the thought of her being another man’s wife was unthinkable and unbearable. All those hours they had spent kneeling across from each other, knees touching, while he built with his tiles, all the hikes they had taken into the mountains of North Cumbria, trudging through snow. Always it had felt like they were making a promise to each other—a promise that they would be together forever.

“He may be serious,” Owen said huskily, gazing into her eyes, which were now a calm shade of blue mixed with green.

Though he could see the worry in her eyes, she controlled it with a firmness of spirit. “I trust my grandfather,” she said softly, confidently. “He has served the king for many years. When he finds out, he’ll speak for us. We both know that he wants us to be together.” She reached up and smoothed some of his hair by his ear. “As provoking as this situation may be, it does
please
me that you’re upset by it. A little, anyway.”

“A little?” Owen scoffed. “I can’t imagine being more anxious if I were being tied up in a boat about to go into the river.”

She gave him a pretty smile. “That’s sweet, Owen. I suppose I’m more nervous than I’m letting on. But we’ve faced worse dangers in the past. He’s trying our hearts. I believe that if we stay loyal to him, the king will reward us. I
believe
that.” She squeezed his hands again.

Owen sighed, feeling more settled by her assurance. He wanted to believe that too. “There is something else I wanted to tell you. Something else that I learned.”

Her eyes widened with eagerness. “Come sit down.” She brought him over to a small couch and sat him down. For an instant, he thought she would come down on his lap, but she sat next to him, so close he could feel the warmth coming from her. Their hands were entwined.

Justine started pacing, casting furtive looks at the door and chafing her hands. She had always been an innocuous presence. But with her mistress now committed to another man—a king, no less—she clearly recognized the impropriety of their situation.

“What did the king tell you after I was gone?” In the firelight, her eyes had shifted to gray, reminding him of this magic that was only Evie’s.

He explained quickly, telling her about the King’s Poisoner, how she would pose as one of Evie’s ladies-in-waiting, and what her role would be should the pretender prove to be false. He did not tell her about meeting the girl in the tower earlier and being thrown onto the ground by her. His pride demanded he keep that part to himself, though he felt a little nagging impression that he should tell her.

Evie’s face darkened at the words. She looked down at their hands, considering it. “I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised the king is planning to use the diplomacy of poison.” She pursed her lips. “But he should have told me he was doing this.” She looked into his eyes. “I’m glad you trusted me with it, Owen. So her name is Etayne. Is she as pretty as Ankarette?”

He blinked with surprise. “She’s . . . she’s much
younger
. Dunsdworth’s age if I were to guess.”

“But is she very pretty?”

Owen squirmed, wondering how best to answer the question. “Well, she . . . I don’t think . . . it’s hard to say . . . I don’t think she’s as pretty as you.”

A pleased smile spread over Evie’s mouth. “She’s gorgeous then. Just as I feared. But that was a gentle answer. I know I’m pretty, Owen. But I’m not beautiful. Not in the way the girls from Occitania are, or the Earl of Huntley’s daughter in Atabyrion. I’ve heard about
her
already today. Lady Kathryn the Beauty.” She rolled her eyes. “I think I look too much like my father to be considered beautiful.”

Owen had rarely seen her exude such self-doubt. He suspected she might be fishing for a compliment, though he wondered how someone so confident could still want assurance on such a point.

“You are the most beautiful girl in all of Ceredigion,” Owen whispered softly, squeezing her fingers. He was so close to her, he saw the dimples as she smiled with pleasure. She looked up at him, her eyes misty with emotion, her lips slightly trembling. There it was again, the desire to kiss her. He could see that she felt it too. She even tilted her head, just a little, to make it easier.

Justine marched up to them. “You’d better go,” she said to Owen in an urgent voice.

A kiss was a promise. A kiss was something couples did when courting, usually reserved for
after
a pact of marriage had been reached. In the eyes of her grandfather, they were already trothed—promised to each other. But how could he take such a liberty when the king had expressly promised her to someone else?

He saw her tongue dart to wet her bottom lip, and it made his bones burn with fire. Owen cleared his throat, his head a bit dizzy from the emotions surging through him. “Well, I’m glad we’re facing this together, Elysabeth Victoria Mortimer.” He brought her hand up to his mouth and pressed a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

He could see a shadow of disappointment in her eyes. His throat went dry when he saw her look change—with Evie, an impetuous look like that was always followed by a rash act. She was going to kiss
him.
A dominant part of him wanted her to do it.

“My lady,” Justine whispered desperately, clearly coming to the same conclusion. “Don’t.”

Evie blinked a few times. Then she sighed. “Good night, Owen. My knight. My dearest friend.” Her eyes burned into his, still willing him to kiss her. Discomfort held him back. This felt hidden and shameful and secret, which was not what he wanted for them.

Owen stood slowly, his knees nearly knocking together, and pulled his hands away. Now a demure lady in appearance, Evie rested hers in the lap of her nightgown. It was so hot in the room, Owen felt like tugging at his collar.

“I’ll be your knight,” Owen said, bowing. “And my heart belongs to you, my lady.”

She looked pleased at the words, but her disappointment was still apparent. “You are dismissed, sir knight,” she said, and Justine sighed with relief.

Owen left through the secret door in her chamber and shut it behind him. He leaned back against it, his heart pounding in his chest with feelings he’d never experienced this forcefully. They were delicious, dangerous, and thrilling. Now that he had seen Evie, he felt more resolved. He was going to outthink King Severn and defeat him in this matter, just as he would in a game of Wizr. He had to.

Owen was about to leave, but he had the idea of checking on her one more time. Turning back toward the door, he found the spy holes were already open.

But he did not remember opening them. No, the holes must have been
closed
, or else he wouldn’t have burst in on her like that.

He hesitated, the ebullient feelings in his heart turning to the oil and sludge of suspicion.

“Go ahead and look,” Etayne whispered from the dark corridor behind him. Her voice was silky and knowing. “I won’t tell.”

He whirled around to face her shadowy form in the dark tunnel.

“You were watching us?” Owen stammered in a low voice, feeling mortified as he realized the Espion girl had been spying on them the whole time.

He did not hear her approach, but he saw her silver gown in the dim light escaping a hooded lantern. “I’m not as
pretty
as her,” she said slyly. “You struggled with that one. But it was a good answer. You should have kissed her, my lord. She wanted you to. Perhaps you need someone to teach you how?”

Owen was grateful for the dark to hide his flush. He wanted to be gone. To be anywhere other than that small confined corridor with the Espion girl who had observed him making a fool out of himself.

“So you are also coming to spy on us throughout the journey?” Owen demanded thickly, but he suspected he already knew the answer.

“Mancini suspected that you were going to tell her about me,” Etayne said. “But no, he didn’t send me to spy on you tonight. I did that on my own. Just as I didn’t tell him that we had already met in my tower. I know that the
best
secrets are kept, my lord. And I will keep yours.”