The King's Traitor (Kingfountain #3)(3)
He felt her hand on his shoulder. “Tell me. Who do you confide in now? There must be someone you trust.”
Owen nodded, but he felt dejected. “I trust Etayne.”
“The poisoner?”
“The very one. She’s loyal to me. She helps me deceive the king. Trick him.” He shook his head again, wondering why he was opening up to her. Secrets were always trying to get out. He carried so many he felt he would burst. It was as if they had all been building up inside him until he saw her next. He clenched his jaw.
She came and stood in front of him, her eyes imploring him to trust her. She was still his friend, still cared about his well-being. He had almost forgotten what that felt like. “How are you deceiving the king?” she whispered.
Owen pursed his lips. “I’m disgusted with myself sometimes. When I defeated the king’s nephew’s attempt to claim the throne, Eyric claimed to have been Piers Urbick, a pretender, all along. It was a lie, Ev—Elysabeth. It was a lie, but the king has been wooing Lady Kathryn ever since. According to the laws and rites of marriage, their union is null and void if they were married under false circumstances. They have not lived as man and wife since St. Penryn. Eyric is still a prisoner in the palace, like Dunsdworth. The two of them are conspiring, looking for ways to escape. I have to keep the Espion watching them constantly. Eyric wants to be with his wife . . . and so does Severn.”
Elysabeth’s face twisted with revulsion. “I’ve heard she still wears a widow’s garb. That she’s always dressed in black?”
“It’s true. The king is always making her new gowns. He’s fixated on her. He wants to marry her, but she insists she is still married to Eyric. He’s tried to use his Fountain magic to persuade her otherwise.”
“That is abhorrent!” she said, her emotions totally riled.
He nodded feverishly. “His determination sickens me. And so I’ve used Etayne to deceive him. She is Fountain-blessed herself, and has the power to look like anyone else. When the king is in one of his moods to persuade Kathryn to relent, Etayne stands proxy and resists him. I help her as often as I can because the king’s magic won’t work on Kathryn when I am near. The poor woman is still faithful to her husband, but this constant pressure to yield is wearing her down. The king knows he’s not getting any younger, that he needs an heir. The privy council is practically bullying her to accept him.” He threw up his hands. “I don’t know how much longer we can hold it off. I want Eyric to escape. But no other kingdom would risk the wrath of Severn by abducting him.”
The look Elysabeth gave him was full of respect. She was silent a moment, staring at him. “I’m proud of you, Owen. It takes courage to do the right thing, especially when no one around you is helping.”
Owen sighed, grateful for her words but hating the way they made him feel. “If I had courage, I would depose him,” he said frankly. “I know the measure of the man now, and I don’t respect him. I’m probably the only one who has enough power to defeat him. Yet your grandfather never did.” He glanced down as he said the bitter-tasting words. “He set the example of loyalty that we both follow. I’m torn in so many ways! If I’d known then what I know now, I would have helped Eyric become king. Even though I knew he wasn’t the Dreadful Deadman.”
Her eyes narrowed at the words. “You mean that old prophecy is true? The one about the great king Andrew returning someday to save Ceredigion?”
He realized he had said too much. He shook his head and tried to turn away, but she caught his wrist and pulled him back.
“You tell me, Owen Kiskaddon. What do you know of the prophecy? I thought it was just a legend.”
He blinked at her in misery. “I know it’s true. He’s here in the castle,” Owen whispered.
Her eyes widened with shock. “The . . . the little boy in the kitchen? The one my grandfather has been raising? Little Drew?”
Owen shuddered at the word. “He is Eyric and Kathryn’s son. He is the reason Eyric lied about being the king’s nephew. He wanted to protect his wife, his son. The boy is only seven. About the age we were when we first met. He’s the Argentine heir. The Dreadful Deadman.”
Elysabeth blinked with astonishment. Then her voice fell to a whisper. “My daughter Genevieve is playing with him in the kitchen right now.”
Owen nodded and looked at her seriously. “Can you imagine me writing that in a letter to you? Are you willing to keep it a secret from your husband? Etayne and the Deconeus of St. Penryn are the only others who know the truth. But do you think that little boy can defeat a grown man? In ten more years, Severn may be too powerful for anyone to stop.”
CHAPTER TWO
The King’s Command
Being back at Dundrennan was both a balm and a torture. The castle was steeped in memories that followed Owen as ghosts. Occasionally, he would turn a corner and see Genevieve tug Drew down the hall ahead of him, trailing giggles, and he would see himself and Evie doing the same. It hurt to be there, to be reminded of those memories, but at the same time, he found them soothing.
Watching Stiev Horwath die was especially agonizing, and Owen spent as much time as he could sitting beside the old duke’s bed, watching the irregular rise and fall of his chest, hearing the rattled sound of his breathing. Horwath’s death would usher in the end of an era. The days of the Sun and Rose of Eredur, of battles fought and won, fought and lost, glory fading like a sunset. Owen feared that when the duke finally stopped breathing, the last glimmer of daylight would be gone and night would descend. Owen would not be surprised if the duke’s life was the last bulwark standing against Severn’s fullest depravity. He stared at the man’s sunken cheeks, wishing he would heal and knowing he would not.