The Queen's Poisoner (Kingfountain, #1)(27)

“I miss Maman,” Owen sighed softly. Her shoulder looked soft.

“And I am certain she misses you terribly, Owen,” she whispered. She reached up her gloved hand and dabbed it against the tip of his nose. “You are a darling little boy, Owen. So young. The king is wrong to keep you away from your parents.”

Owen was getting tired, and he leaned against her arm, resting his head against her shoulder. “Can you really help me?” he asked hopefully.

She put her arm around him. “I think so, Owen. I’m working on a plan.”

“Really?”

“Just the beginnings of one.”

“Will you tell me?” he begged.

Hugging his shoulders, she planted a kiss on the top of his head. “Not yet. I have some ideas, but I need to ponder them more. Thoughts have a way of growing. If you put your mind to it, you can accomplish surprising things.”

“Truly?”

“Truly, Owen. Most people suffer from a lack of imagination. They don’t dare enough. But I do. I helped Eredur become king. Both times.” She nudged his arm. “The reason most people don’t arrive at a destination is they never embark. They think of all the reasons why they can’t do it, so they don’t even try.”

“I thought I could escape,” Owen said dejectedly. “I went to the sanctuary, but the king . . . he tricked me into coming out.”

He heard a silvery laugh at that. “Oh yes, he did indeed! The king is Fountain-blessed, Owen. Do you know what that is?”

He scrunched up his nose in surprise. “He is? I’ve never met one before, but in the stories they are like heroes. The king . . . isn’t like that.”

She hugged him again, as if she were very much enjoying sitting next to him. “Not exactly, Owen. You know how every baby is taken to a sanctuary so the deconeus can bathe his head with fountain water? That’s called the water rite. It marks a hope that the child will be Fountain-blessed. But very few are. Only one child in a thousand is Fountain-blessed.”

He turned and looked at her, gazing up at her pretty face. “I heard Monah talking about it. She said a man who made bread was Fountain-blessed.”

“From Pisan, yes. I heard about him. I know you’ve heard some of this before, but it will be easier to explain if I start at the beginning. Let me tell you about the true nature of the Fountain. The Fountain is all around us. It’s like a rushing of waters that you can feel but not hear. Have you ever lay down and shut your eyes and felt like you were . . . drifting?”

Owen nodded energetically.

“When someone is Fountain-blessed, they can gather the energy of the Fountain. Like filling a cup with water. Then they can use that power to do something. Something amazing! King Severn’s power is in his voice. When he uses the magic of the Fountain, when he speaks to you and touches you, he can make you believe what he is saying is true. But as I said, everyone who is Fountain-blessed needs to somehow draw in the magic. The king has an unusual way of filling his cup. Have you noticed it?”

Owen stared at her in surprise and tilted his head. “Is it his dagger? He’s always slamming it.”

Ankarette smiled fondly. “No . . . that’s just a nervous habit. He’s restless. Think about his words. He has power with his words.”

Owen frowned, deep in thought. “He’s always angry, except with the princess.”

“I told you that you were clever.” She brought her hands together under her chin. “There is power in words, Owen. So much power. When you tell your mother you love her, it makes her feel warm and happy. If you tell her that you hate her,” her voice became darker, crueler, as one of her hands reached away from her mouth and tapped his chest. “That carries hurt.”

Her voice softened again and she settled her hands in her lap. “The king gains his power through insulting others. You cannot be in a room with him without experiencing it. That is how he draws in the Fountain’s magic. Every insult, every cutting word, adds a drop to his cup. When it is full, he can use the magic of the Fountain against someone. An individual. And they will believe whatever he says, no matter how outlandish. He did not always realize he was Fountain-blessed. I think he discovered it almost by accident. Once he knew it, he began to use it to make himself king. I warned his brother about it, but he would not listen to me. He thought his brother was loyal.”

Owen looked at her curiously. “He doesn’t insult Princess Elyse.”

Ankarette nodded. “You are right. And observant. I need some time to work out my plan, but if you would like, I will come visit you tomorrow and we can talk again.” She paused before continuing. “I’ve been watching over you since you arrived, Owen. I like playing with your tiles too. Now, you should be abed by this hour.” She mussed up his hair again, then her fingers slowed and gently played with some of the feathery tufts.

“How do you know so much about it? About what it feels like? Are you . . . are you Fountain-blessed, Ankarette?” he asked.

She kept her eyes on his hair and then nodded once. “That is another reason the king wants to kill me,” she said. “Why don’t you head to bed?”

“You are going back to the tower?” he asked.

She nodded with a sad smile. “I must stay hidden during the day,” she said. “I do much of my work at night when everyone is asleep.”