The Thief's Daughter (17 page)

“Let me handle this, Cousin,” Eyric said, gripping the king’s shoulder. He stood in front of Evie, his bearing tall and firm and regal. “I am who I claim to be. I
am
Eyric Argentine. My brother was murdered in the palace at Kingfountain. But I was taken by a remorseful servant to the sanctuary of Our Lady and smuggled to Brugia. The time has come for me to reclaim what is rightfully mine. And I promise you this, Elysabeth Victoria Mortimer. One day you will kneel before me as your king.”

He is Eyric Argentine. But he is not telling the truth.

Owen felt the whisper from the Fountain in his mind, and it made him sick with dread.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Lord Bothwell

Just as Iago’s royal palace was on a much smaller scale than Kingfountain, so too were the accommodations. Many of the lords and ladies of Atabyrion had gathered for the royal wedding, and every inn, tavern, and barn was full. Evie and her escorts had been granted a single room in the royal apartments. A single, canopied bed filled a good portion of the chamber, along with a small dresser topped with a pitcher of water, a washing bowl, and a small mirror. The wainscoting on the walls was decorative, the trim carved and crafted into the weave pattern Owen had noticed in the great hall. The floor had thick rush matting, and there were broken boughs of pine at the threshold that crackled as they entered, releasing a whiff of sweet-smelling sap.

It was clear from the sparse abode that most of them would be sleeping on small mats on the floor. The bed would be reserved for Evie and Justine.

As soon as the large wooden door was shut, Owen began inspecting the room for loose panels and means of eavesdropping.

Evie started to pace, her face flushed with anger. “If I had not been here to see it firsthand, I would not have believed the Atabyrions could be so stupid.”

“My lady,” Justine warned in a wary voice. There was a changing screen in the corner, but there was no room behind it for Evie’s gowns, so Justine began bustling around to find an appropriate alternative.

“I feel absolutely
terrible
for the Earl of Huntley’s daughter,” Evie went on, oblivious to the warning. “I’m disgusted by the machinations at work here. That poor girl! Her father has ruined her with this match. How could he be so shortsighted?”

Owen continued his inspection, listening to her rant as he worked. Etayne was doing the same thing across the room, and Clark had moved a chest over to the dormer window, high up on the wall, and tugged the latch loose so he could inspect outside. The sound of the falls rushed in with the fresh air.

“The girl’s father believes he’s making her Queen of Ceredigion,” Justine said by way of explanation.

“Yes, but having them marry so soon?” Evie said incredulously. “He must have only arrived within the fortnight, mind you. Not long ago he sailed from Legault to attack us, and now he’s already married to an Atabyrion. He’s hopping around like a toad.”

Owen chuckled at the comment and she stomped her foot. “It’s not funny! That poor girl. She’s beautiful, there’s no denying it, and I can see why he’d be eager for a match to a wealthy lady, but what will happen to
her
once his claims are proved false? I wanted to box his ears!”

Owen knew that there was some merit to the man’s claims, but before he could say as much, there was a subtle knock at the door.

Clark was still standing on the chest, so Owen stepped around the luggage to answer it. A middle-aged man stood there with a furtive look, but Owen recognized him as the man they had seen earlier, the one who had given the Espion sign.

“I am Lord Bothwell,” the man said, bowing slightly. “The king has sent me to speak with the lady of North Cumbria. Is she disposed to have visitors presently?” His court speech was proper, and although his voice had an accent, Owen could tell he had trained in languages.

“Come in,” Evie said, shooing away Justine, who was fidgeting with clasps to remove her jewelry.

Owen’s first impression of Bothwell was that he was an oily man. He had lost the majority of his black hair, and he’d oiled what he had left and combed it down the back of his head. His eyes darted here and there, and although he was dressed in the court fashion of Atabyrion, his boots were clearly from Ceredigion. He wore a sword and dagger, but they were jeweled and seemed more ceremonial than battle worthy.

After the door shut behind him, he glanced quickly at each person in the room, as if doing arithmetic in his head.

“Ah,” he said. “You will not find any traps or such here, my friends. This is the most secure room in Iago’s palace. I chose it for you personally. My men are patrolling the corridor outside to keep out unwelcome entities.” He smiled graciously. “It is an honor to meet my esteemed peers from Ceredigion. My lady, you were superb,” he added with a flourish to Evie, bowing again. “You made a strong impression on Iago, not an easy feat to accomplish.”

Evie folded her arms, frowning. “The
impression
I was trying to make on him was that he’s being an utter fool.”

“Oh, he
is
that,” Bothwell said with a chuckle. “He’s foolish, quick-tempered, too generous, and so far . . . an intemperate king. But he’s young still. I must give him liberties based on that fact. Your presence in Edonburick has caused a storm amongst the nobles. You will see. You treated him not as a sovereign lord, but as a peer. Even your ship—the
Vassalage
—is a veiled implication.” He chortled. “Well done. Well thought out.” He tapped his fingers together with delight. “I get ahead of myself. First of all, introductions.”

He bowed deeply. “I am Severn’s spy in Iago’s court. I am also Iago’s closest friend and confidant. He really is that stupid. A few flattering words and he eats from your hand like a squirrel. As his advisor, I can come and see you as I please to deliver news and let you know how your negotiations are faring.” He scratched his cheek. “If you require anything while here in the palace, let me know immediately and it will be taken care of. Iago has put me in charge of your comforts and ordered me to spare no expense, while in truth, the boy is nearly out of money! The royal coffers are practically empty, and without the nobles’ support, he would not be able to pull off the attack he plans to make before year’s end. You should know he’s plotting an invasion of Ceredigion, though, quite frankly, he cannot afford to sustain it longer than a fortnight, if that. It will be a raiding party, no more. Nothing serious.”

Evie glanced at Owen before returning her gaze to the oily man. “You’re Iago’s advisor? His trusted confidant? And you are telling us this? This is treason.”

Bothwell looked a little startled. “Of course it is, my lady. I could be hung from a gibbet if Iago knew. Believe me, he’s not that smart. Master Mancini more than compensates me for the risks I take and has offered me a position in Ceredigion should I become compromised. Truly, I am your ally in every sense of the word. Now, who is part of your entourage, hmmm?”

Clark stepped down off the chest. “The less you know, the better,” he said. “My name is Clark.”

“Yes, yes, I’ve heard of you,” Bothwell said, bowing again. A growing feeling became more identifiable; Owen did not like this court intriguer. There was something about him—actually, there were many things about him—that disgusted Owen.

“And this is Owen Satchel,” Clark said offhandedly. “He’s one of Duke Horwath’s household knights.”

“So young to be a knight,” Bothwell observed to Owen, bowing again. It was all the invitation Owen needed to reach out with his magic, letting it wash over Lord Bothwell like gentle rain. The man was more fit than he looked and he carried a blade hidden in his vest, which wasn’t a surprise since he was a spy. Bothwell gave no indication at all that he knew his defenses were being tested.

“These two girls are ladies-in-waiting and will stay here. The rest of the lady’s servants and lawyers will be residing on board our ship for now, as your inns all seem to be full.”

“The crowds will soon depart Edonburick,” Bothwell said confidently. “Once the wedding revels are over. In a few days, the palace will be quiet again and the servants can stay here. The king rarely stays at the hall, he’s always off hunting or hawking or enjoying some other entertainment. If you two knights would fancy a tournament, he would be only too thrilled to call one.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Clark said stiffly.

Evie stepped forward. “Tell us about the fisherman’s son, Urbick. When did he arrive?”

Bothwell’s eyes lit up. “Ah, I was sure you’d want to hear the story!” His voice took on a conspiratorial air. “He arrived less than a fortnight ago, but he was
invited
here by Iago before he left Legault. I tell you truthfully, every ruler wants to befriend this young man because they all hope to use him against your king. The boy’s been in Occitania, Brugia, Legault, and now Atabyrion.”

Evie shook her head. “But has he been tested? Has he been interrogated by those who would be in a position to confirm or dispute his claim?”

Bothwell shook his head and wagged a finger. “It’s not that simple,” he said with another oily smile. “First, he
looks
like an Argentine, does he not? I knew Eredur, and I’ve known Severn for years. He looks the part. He dresses the part. And his supposed aunt, in Brugia, has certainly taught him to
act
the part. He’s been well trained, my lady. He can cite names, dates, and figures of importance, all from memory. More importantly, when you listen to his sad tale, as Iago did when he arrived, it makes you feel sympathy for him and animosity toward Severn. People want to help this young prince gain a crown.”

Evie snorted. “Even if it’s true, he was declared illegitimate by law. He cannot inherit the throne.”

Bothwell steepled his fingers over his lips. “Laws are often changed, my dear. There are rumors even here in Edonburick that Severn will change the law to make his niece legitimate. That he is grooming her to be his successor
or
his queen. That is why he won’t let her marry another man. Kings can do what they want.”

He bowed again. “Now, I must be going. My visits will always be, of necessity, rather short. The king has invited you, my lady, to join him for a hawking trip on the morrow. He was captivated by you! There is a bend in the river called Wizr Falls that he would like to show you, and he hopes you may speak further now that Eyric is gone.”

“Gone?” Evie demanded.

He waved his hand. “He’s with his young wife now. One of her father’s estates. Don’t worry. He cannot leave Atabyrion without permission. The king conducts most of his business out of doors. Iago simply cannot sit in a chair for longer than a few moments. I will say it again. You’ve impressed him. He’s not used to being treated as an equal, especially by a woman—a
younger
woman, no less. You are more than his match, my lady. Please try to convince him that invading Ceredigion would be a disaster.”

“So the pretend prince will not be joining us?” Evie asked.

Bothwell shook his head. “No. They will be away from court for a few weeks, I believe.”

“Do you know specifically where they are?” Clark asked pointedly.

Bothwell grinned. “Of course. And I can provide you a horse and directions if required. Believe me, there is nowhere in Atabyrion he can go that
I
won’t know about. I’m at your service.” He bowed yet again and excused himself.

After the door shut, Owen folded his arms. He had sensed none of the Fountain’s magic during the conversation. Bothwell’s style of spying reminded him of Mancini’s. He didn’t trust the man very much, but having such an ally would be helpful.

“I don’t think I like that man,” Evie said simply, wrinkling her nose.

“What did you make of him, Clark?” Owen asked.

The spy looked stern. “He’s served Severn’s interests for years. He’s the one who told us Piers Urbick was here. He’s been to Kingfountain several times, and from what Mancini tells me, he’s quite jealous to live there. Atabyrion is too backward for his tastes.”

Owen scratched the back of his head, chafing under the chain hood. “We have a bigger problem,” he said. He looked straight at Evie. “I think Urbick may be telling the truth. He may very well be Eyric Argentine.”

Stunned silence met his proclamation.

“How can you be so sure?” Evie asked after a moment, her voice quavering.

“I’m not,” Owen said. He frowned. “But I felt something as he spoke. The Fountain spoke to me, but the message was not clear. He was lying about something, but I don’t think he was lying about who he was.”

“Oh dear,” Evie said worriedly. “I’ve done it again, haven’t I?”

Justine looked nervous and apprehensive. “Done what?”

Etayne had remained thoughtfully silent throughout the encounter with Bothwell. Her role was still supposed to be concealed from Evie, even though Owen had already told her.

“I did it to Dunsdworth once before. Deliberately offended him. Now I’ve done the same thing with the prince.” She sighed. “But you don’t think . . . Owen, you don’t think Severn will step down for this rival, do you? This is going to lead to war, isn’t it?”

Owen sighed deeply. “I think our goal now should be to prevent one.”