The Queen's Poisoner (Kingfountain, #1)(30)

Owen, being an eager learner, soaked it all up.

When Ankarette wanted to visit him during the day, she would slip something into Jewel’s tea that would send the woman off into a loud snoring fit. They would always return from their outings well before she snorted herself awake, none the wiser.

The secret gave Owen a sense of power and purpose. When the king jabbed his dagger in his hilt or mocked Owen during the meal, he would look back and think, If only you knew what I know. If only you saw what I did in your palace.

The palace was an intricate maze of corridors and towers. But beyond the well-kept halls where everyone walked and ate and slept, there was an underworld teeming with dark hidden places. Places that smelled like musty barrels of wine. Places where the guardsmen diced and drank with the servants and stayed out of Berwick’s sight. Owen watched Dickon Ratcliffe’s Espion as they boasted and bragged about their exploits when they came in from assignments. As they mocked Ratcliffe behind his back and scorned him for always heaping the credit for their work on himself.

Ankarette did not say much. She would take Owen to new places and let him wander around and explore while she looked on with a smile of affection and warmth and answered his questions. Sometimes she would ask him a question, something to make him think, and think hard. Only after he had exhausted his brain would she provide the clues he needed to teach himself the answer.

“Ankarette?” he asked her one day, as they were playing a round of Wizr at the table in her tower room. She had already taught him the simple ways to defeat any opponent who was untrained. Their games were lasting longer now, but he had never come close to winning yet. “What is the most useful thing I need to learn? Is it poisons? When are we starting that?”

She was about to move her next piece, but she lowered her hand into her lap instead. “What do you think the most useful thing is, Owen?”

He scrunched up his brow. “I don’t want to kill anyone,” he said.

She gave him a patient look and said nothing, letting him tease it out in his own mind.

“There is more useful knowledge than poisons,” she said encouragingly.

He frowned, screwing up his nose. “I think it might be knowing when to use poison,” he said.

“Tell me what you mean?” she asked.

“Well, you said that you only use poison if other things don’t work. So, isn’t it most important for a person to be able to tell whether a situation is hopeless or not? Like what you did with Mancini. You knew you could trust him to help you.”

Ankarette laughed softly. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“But you trusted him enough to tell him you didn’t die. And he’s part of the Espion!”

“Many of the Espion know about me,” Ankarette said. “He didn’t. By giving him that secret, I gave him power. That’s what he craves more than anything, so I knew it would make him a valuable tool.”

“He craves muffins more than power,” Owen said disdainfully.

She smiled again and tousled his mousy hair. “He does indeed. Did I answer your question?”

Owen frowned. “Not really. You’re pretty good at not answering questions.”

“Let me put it another way. Let’s talk about it like stacking tiles. You build a tower out of tiles and then you want to knock it down. If you set the tiles too far from the tower, it won’t work.”

Owen looked at her curiously. “Well, the tower needs to have a weakness. You have to hit it at the right angle to make the tiles fall. If you hit it the other way, nothing will happen.”

“Yes, exactly. You have to hit it where it will fall. That’s what I did with Mancini. I didn’t offer him food. He has plenty of that! I offered him knowledge. Secrets.” She reached her hand out and moved the next piece, winning the game of Wizr.

Owen scowled. He had already planned his next two moves and had not seen it coming. He didn’t think he was ever going to win against her.

“But how did you know that?” he pressed. “How did you know that’s what he wanted?”

Ankarette folded her hands in her lap. She was quiet for a moment. Sometimes he could tell she was in pain, but this was not one of those moments. Her pain usually started with tightness around her eyes, then her breathing would change and she would tell him it was time to go.

“Owen,” she said softly, peering into his eyes. “The most important thing you can learn is discernment. Have you heard that word before?”

He shook his head no.

“It is the ability to judge well. It means not just seeing an action, but the reasons behind the action. Many people say things they do not believe. They lie and deceive. They may act one way in public and another in private.”

Owen stared at her, still confused. “I don’t understand.”

“This is hard enough to explain to adults, Owen. It is especially difficult to explain to children because you are so young and haven’t experienced much yet. I’ll try to help you. You like to talk. You like to ask questions. You like to laugh. But when you are in the presence of King Severn, your voice goes down to a tiny squeak and you cannot speak. It’s because he makes you anxious and uncomfortable. Right?”

He nodded.

“If I judged you by how you are in the king’s presence, I would not see the whole picture of you. By spending time with you, I’ve gotten to know you better. I have learned what you are really like. The ability to do this quickly is called discernment. It is priceless, Owen. Let me tell you a story to show you why.”