The Thief's Daughter (13 page)

One of the more difficult decisions a prince must make is what to do with the survivors of a rival. For certainly if the survivors are allowed to marry and have children, their heirs will become future threats. In the days of the first Argentines, one surviving son was locked away in the dungeons by his uncle and purportedly starved to death. There are no official court documents about how the lad met his fate. This is a more brutal example of how this dilemma may be approached. In this day, King Severn has chosen to deal with the survivors of his brothers thus. He keeps them close to him at the court of Kingfountain. They include his brother’s child, Dunsdworth, now a man past twenty. And his older brother’s daughter, Elyse, whom he keeps especially close to him. In both cases, he refuses to let them marry and keeps them under constant watch by the Espion. For all appearances, they may look free, but it is a cruel form of bondage for ones so young.

—Polidoro Urbino, Court Historian of Kingfountain

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Fate of Princes

In the days following the midnight meeting, preparations were made for the journey to Atabyrion. They were to leave on a ship called the
Vassalage
, which would be escorted by several of the king’s warships, full of soldiers, lest Iago do something foolish. Owen did not return to Evie’s room again, knowing he was being watched by the Espion girl.

As a knight in disguise, Owen spent time in the training yard working on his skills. He enjoyed swordplay, and the sweat and the sheer physical effort of it helped distract him from the nagging dilemmas pervading his mind.

Owen was in the middle of a bout with the palace sword master the morning of the day they were supposed to set sail for Atabyrion, when two men entered the training yard. He assumed they had come to share the space, but they only stood there and watched him spar. After the bout, Owen sheathed his blade and fetched a drink from a bucket ladle, then dumped some of the water over his head to ease the heat and wash away the sweat dripping down his cheeks.

The two men approached him from behind—he could hear the gravel crunching from their boots—and he quickly turned to assess them as potential threats. Not many in the castle had been informed Lord Kiskaddon was there, and most seemed to accept he was a household knight of Duke Horwath. It was interesting to Owen how a simple change in attire could deceive the senses of people who should have known him. When one looked like a prince, or dressed like a king, it led others to suppose it to be true.

“You’re the new knight,” one of the men said to Owen. It only took him an instant to recognize the young man as Dunsdworth, the enemy of his boyhood. Recognizing his face brought ugly memories to mind.

Dunsdworth had been the castle bully, but he had also been the most constant recipient of Severn’s sarcasm and cutting wit. The treatment had probably deranged the young man’s mind. Owen had rarely interacted with him since being declared Duke of Westmarch and Horwath’s ward in North Cumbria.

Standing before him now, Dunsdworth still towered over him. He was a full-grown man, but beefy like a cow. His cheeks and neck were thick, and his left eye drooped. He had the unkempt beard of someone who was too lazy to go to a barber for a shave, and his thick brown hair was cropped just above the neck after the fashion of Ceredigion. He smelled of sour wine.

Owen gazed at him in surprise and growing disgust. It had been years since he’d seen him this close. It was clear Dunsdworth no longer had the discipline of a warrior. His bulk was caused by overeating and a lack of exercise. There was a vague memory that as a boy Dunsdworth had spent his free time at the training yard. Owen hadn’t seen him there once in the days he’d been back.

Silence hung in the air between them for a moment as Owen sucked in these truths and found the taste bitter.

“I’m from the North,” Owen said stiffly, warily, adding the touch of an accent. Dunsdworth’s companion looked bored and unhappy. He had given Owen hardly a second glance.

“You’re good with a blade,” Dunsdworth said. “I could
swear
I knew you from somewhere.” His mouth turned into a frown as his brain tried to reconcile the situation. But he was foggy, unused to thinking, and it was clear he couldn’t place Owen’s identity.

“I must go,” Owen said, not wanting to be trapped in such a conversation any longer. He started to move away from the water bucket, but Dunsdworth shot out his hand and shoved Owen back. He wasn’t ready to let him leave.

“I’m a prince of the blood,” Dunsdworth drawled. “You’ll leave when I dismiss you.”

Dunsdworth’s companion rolled his eyes at the comment, but he said nothing. Owen could see the contempt in the man’s face. He was a minder, not an accomplice.

Owen scrunched up his eyebrows and tapped his lip. “Aren’t you Lord Dunderhead?”

“What did you call me?” Dunsdworth spat angrily, his face contorting.

“Dungheap?” Owen tried again. “No, Dungworth. That’s it. I thought I recognized you. Apologies, my lord, for not remembering you sooner.”

Dunsdworth’s companion started to guffaw, looking at Owen as if he were truly insane.

“Shut it, Corden,” Dunsdworth growled, butting his elbow into his companion’s ribs to try to silence him. His face was bright red with fury and humiliation.

Owen noticed Clark approaching them briskly from across the training yard.

“I’d love to stay and chat, but I must go,” Owen said, walking away.

Corden could still be heard laughing behind him, muttering, “Dungworth, by the Fountain!”

“Mancini sent word to find you,” Clark said as Owen fell into stride with him. “He wants you to inspect the
Vassalage
with him while she’s being loaded. The sea storms have prevented our departure long enough. I’m anxious to leave.”

Owen nodded, but his mind was still elsewhere. “I can’t stand him,” he said, nodding back toward Dunsdworth. “He used to torment me as a boy. He almost recognized me, but I think he’s too addled to remember.”

Clark looked distastefully at the two men arguing with each other in the training yard. “I pity the man assigned to him,” Clark said. “That is a duty no Espion relishes.”

“Corden is an Espion?” Owen asked with a chuckle. “I pity him too then. What a horrible companion.”

Clark was always serious, but his face became even graver. “I had that duty myself a few years ago.”

Owen stared at him in shock. “Was it a punishment?”

Clark frowned. “No. A duty. And it was miserable.”

“I can only imagine. Did you train with him? Is that why you were chosen?”

“Dunsdworth lost his interest in swords years ago. He has one interest now, and it is something the king denies him. Most young men his age are already experienced . . . in the ways of the flesh, to put it delicately. The king denies him any companionship. Dunsdworth used to terrorize the serving girls, which is why he now has an Espion assigned to him at all times. He has to keep his hands off any lass, for the risk that one of them will bear his child.” Clark looked disgusted.

“He’ll never be allowed to marry, will he?” Owen asked, his voice softening. He glanced back at Dunsdworth with a flicker of pity. Owen could not imagine being permanently deprived of the company of women. It would be an easier fate to be thrown into the river.

“No. The lad is utterly miserable. He’s a prince of the blood, but he’s treated like a prisoner. When I suffered under that assignment, I had to sleep in bed with him at night to ensure he had no bedmates. It’s loathsome work, my lord. He drowns his frustration in wine and hardly spends a day sober now.”

“You had to sleep in his bed?” Owen asked with utter revulsion. “How did you bear the smell?”

“Someone has to clean the privies, my lord,” Clark said darkly. “I much prefer your company, to be honest.”

Owen glanced back at Dunsdworth one last time, and this time the man was staring after him with hatred in his eyes. He felt guilty about taunting him. According to the rights of succession, Dunsdworth was Severn’s legal heir to the throne. But he was in no way being groomed to take on that role. He was not invited to take part in the king’s councils, and had always been treated with nothing but contempt and disdain. His father had played the traitor twice, ultimately signing his own death warrant. Officially, he was put to death for convicting Ankarette Tryneowy on his own authority—even though she had survived the plunge down the falls. If anything happened to Severn . . . it made Owen shudder to think of Dunsdworth becoming King of Ceredigion. The thought of one of Severn’s young relations inevitably turned his mind to another.

“Clark, I’ve not seen the lady Elyse since the day I arrived. I’d like to see her before I go.” In his disguise as a household knight, he couldn’t visit her rooms and ask to see her. Not without causing all sorts of gossip. A horrifying thought occurred to him. “Is she being treated like Dunsdworth? Is someone escorting her constantly? Is
she
a prisoner?”

“Oh no!” Clark said, shaking his head vehemently. “No, she is treated far better. The king trusts her implicitly. She’s allowed to go wherever she wants, even to the sanctuary and back to see her ailing mother.”

“So she has not improved?” Owen asked.

Clark shook his head. “The king has sent his physicians to treat her, but she continues to languish. The queen dowager’s health has been pressing on Lady Elyse quite heavily. She’s not been to court as often because of it. It’s whispered amongst the Espion that the king is grooming her to be his heir in case he’s poisoned or murdered. She’s illegitimate, of course, but something like that can be overruled if need be. They have a close bond, the two of them.” Clark gave Owen a worried look that spoke of the fear of having said too much. Owen nodded encouragingly and Clark continued in a lower voice. “For years, everyone expected him to take her as his wife. He would not, though. Not his brother’s daughter.”

“Will he let her marry, though?” Owen probed.

Clark shook his head. “No. For the same reason he won’t let Dunsdworth. Any child of hers would be a potential threat to him.”

“So she’s given her freedom because she’s been loyal to him.”

“Exactly. Dunsdworth is a fool. There’s no other word to describe him. His father was a fool too. Always scheming. Always hungering for the crown himself. There are those in the kingdom—lesser men—who would prefer a weak king like Dunsdworth to a strong one like Severn. It would ruin us all. Severn may be cruel and tightfisted, but he’s brought prosperity. The royal treasury has recovered and then some. He’s a formidable power. Atabyrion is about to learn that firsthand.”

Owen was surprised to find his contempt for Dunsdworth had metamorphosed into compassion during their walk away from the training yard and into the castle corridors. The thought of not being able to marry Evie brought him anguish. But not being able to marry at all? To have a constant companion assigned to you, day and night, would be an unimaginable fate.

But a king held such power. A king could ruin a person’s life. If Dunsdworth did become king one day, Owen could lose his duchy on a whim. He could be exiled as his own father had been. Or worse.

Owen’s thoughts turned bleaker and bleaker. If Severn had not claimed the throne as his own, he would have lost everything. He would have risked murder or exile. He found himself thinking about the image Evie had drawn for him, about the wheel spinning around and around.

It was a long walk from the castle to the docks, which were downriver at the base of the waterfall. It gave Owen a lot of time to think about his upcoming encounter with Mancini. There was a lot he wanted to say to that man, but he realized prudence would be the best approach.

Etayne had revealed to Owen in the tower that Ankarette had left a message for him. The thought that Mancini had the message had been preying on him ever since. If Owen were to ask after it, the spymaster would know that Owen and Etayne had previously encountered each other. Did he want Mancini to know that? It had been Ankarette’s greatest trick to keep her secrets secret.

His mind turned to the girl they had chosen to be the new poisoner. How had they found her? Owen still wished he had not been so unguarded about his relationship to Ankarette, but what other explanation was there for how he had ended up in her tower? Just being there had implicated him. How clever was this poisoner? Would she begin to deduce that Owen’s reputation for being able to see the future was a sham? What would she do with that knowledge if she did realize the truth? Mancini knew it, of course. But he obviously hadn’t told her.

Mancini was quite adept at manipulating the king. He always made sure that the Espion brought in news that the king would find interesting, news he would be able to act upon. While Ratcliffe had mostly responded to events, Mancini crafted them in his favor. He had made himself indispensable to Severn, always acknowledging with false humility that he served at the king’s grace and pleasure.

Now that Owen was reaching the age of his manhood, he had learned that the world always felt like a dangerous, threatening place. A place where trust and loyalty were as rare as gems and even more valuable. Owen’s loyalty to the king had resulted in his position as a duke of the realm. But trust was as fragile as eggshells. The king didn’t know that Owen had conspired with Ankarette, and even Mancini, to dupe him. Their relationship of trust was based on that long-ago deceit. What if Etayne revealed the truth to the king to further her own ambitions?

And it was Owen’s intention, even now, to use his Fountain-blessed abilities to thwart the king’s plans for Evie. The king only believed that Owen had visions. He did not know about his true abilities.

“There she is,” Clark said, huffing as they descended the stairs carved into the cliff walls. “There is your ship.”

Owen’s stomach prickled with excitement. He was going to make the most of this journey. He was going to make sure Elysabeth Victoria Mortimer did not marry anyone but himself.

Despite Mancini.

Despite the king.