The King's Traitor (Kingfountain #3)(18)
Her demeanor was serious. His words had struck something inside her.
“That’s why you won’t murder him,” she said, nodding. “Because that’s what he would have done.”
He shook his head. “No. Because it’s wrong. I know all the kings use poison on their enemies, but I believe a king should be a protector, not a destroyer. When Eredur died, Ankarette was gone. She was away on some sort of assignment. I never knew what. I think she was in Occitania, but I can’t remember, to be truthful. Why was she sent away? What would have happened if she hadn’t been gone? I shudder to think of it. I might be a feckless young nobleman in my father’s house, wishing one of those simpering girls I left back there would notice me. I’d be gibbering in fear. I would never have met Evie.” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t have known you.”
She smiled at the gallant comment, her expression so pleased he regretted saying it. She shook her head. Her wig was blond. He had seen her wear so many disguises, so many faces, he wondered if she even knew who she was anymore.
“So you are swimming against the current,” she said succinctly. “Trying to avoid a fate you may not be able to.”
“To do otherwise would make me into a monster next,” Owen said. “I would avoid that if I could.” He turned away from her and walked over to the bed, feeling so weary. “After telling me the story of Bollinger, Elysabeth said she wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t assumed the throne after all. If he had completed his exile. Who knows how long the king would have ruled. But I can imagine how furious he must have been to watch his duchy be gutted, his inheritance surrendered to others. I can imagine how Elysabeth is feeling right now. She’s in a similar position.”
He felt Etayne come up behind him, but he nearly flinched when her fingers began massaging his shoulders. “You have enough worries, Owen. You’ll need your wits about you when you meet the Duchess of Brythonica and her marshal. Can I stay with you? To watch over you while you sleep?”
He knew her offer was simply that, an offer to watch and protect him. He found her loyalty refreshing, for many of the Espion strove for personal glory. But she could not stay. The same soft touch that was easing the tight muscles in his shoulders was also invoking stirrings of pleasure. His body was rebelling against him. He knew everyone thought he and Etayne were more than merely friends. It would be so easy to surrender to others’ expectations. She would never betray him.
But he couldn’t do that. He shook his head slowly no.
Etayne’s eyes crinkled a bit as the rejection came, but she was an excellent actress. She walked slowly to the door and then twisted the handle. “Don’t forget to bolt it,” she reminded him.
After she was gone, he slid the bolt into place. He could still sense her standing on the other side of the door. Owen felt a growl of selfishness unleash itself inside his heart. Why not find comfort and solace in a willing girl? She knew he didn’t love her that way. She didn’t care. He kicked the thought in his mind to silence it. When he was a young boy, old Stiev Horwath had told him a story that he had never forgotten. That inside each person lives two wolves. One was full of evil, jealousy, anger, resentment. The other wolf was kind, benevolent, generous, and dutiful.
Owen had asked how someone could survive with two such beasts inside them. Would not one of them eventually win? Duke Horwath had given him a crinkled smile.
“Which wolf wins?” he had asked. “The one that you feed.”
It was clear which one Severn was nourishing.
He walked away from the door.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Lady Sinia
Owen summoned his host, and after a much-needed day of rest, prepared to depart for Ploemeur. He carefully pored over the Espion maps of the realm, growing frustrated by the vagueness he found there. Brythonica was much smaller than Westmarch, and he could only name three cities, two rivers, and the main road. There were several densely wooded areas, game parks as the mayor of Averanche had once explained to him, several of which bordered his own lands, but as to their size and borders, the map was empty.
Giving it some thought, he decided it would be best to meet the king’s expectations quickly and ruthlessly. He ordered his men not to wash their tunics, and he himself wore the most travel-stained outfit he could find amongst his possessions. He intended to arrive dust-spattered and ill-kempt. Surely the duchess was accustomed to being courted by those intending to impress her, and Owen had no intention to follow suit. His goal was to offend her as quickly as possible, laying bare Severn’s machinations for her duchy, and then retreat back to Westmarch to work on his plan to make Eyric and Kathryn’s son the heir of Ceredigion.
The weather could not have been more perfect, which made for a pleasant ride through the countryside. The air had the salty tang of the sea to it, for Brythonica was a jagged inlet along the coast of Occitania, full of grottos and lagoons and sweet-smelling eucalyptus trees that were towering and ancient. Etayne rode at his side, hooded and mysterious, as they crossed the border between Averanche and Brythonica. Shortly after entering the domain, they were hailed by warriors bearing the Raven tunic of Brythonica, but the border guards were totally outnumbered by Owen’s men. When they learned Duke Kiskaddon was coming to meet the duchess, they blanched, let him pass, and undoubtedly sent riders dashing ahead to forewarn their ruler.