The Queen's Poisoner (Kingfountain, #1)(39)
“You always can,” she said with a little gasp of pain.
“I heard about Lord Bletchley today.”
“Who told you about him?” she asked, her voice showing her interest.
“The Mortimer girl,” he replied.
“Elysabeth Victoria Mortimer?” Ankarette asked playfully. “What did she tell you?”
Owen knew this was an important moment. He wanted to see if he could trust Ankarette fully. So he decided to test her. He altered some of the story. He said that Severn ordered Bletchley to murder his nephews. He wanted to know if that were true.
Ankarette was quiet for a moment, her eyes lost in thought. “No, I’m not certain that’s true,” she said. “I don’t believe the king ordered his nephews’ deaths. It was Bletchley’s handiwork.” She frowned, her face troubled. “Many do believe Severn ordered it, so I’m not surprised at the story, only that Duke Horwath did not correct his granddaughter.” She shrugged, and Owen felt a surge of relief.
“How do you know he didn’t?” Owen stammered. “I was just thinking . . . you told me the king was Fountain-blessed. Couldn’t he persuade someone that he didn’t do something that he did?”
Ankarette gazed at him with a look that reminded him of the one the Mortimer girl had given him. A look of respect and admiration. It made him flush with warmth.
“Are you sure you are only eight?” she asked with a little laugh. “That was very astute, Owen. You will become a great lord someday. How do I know? Because I was there in secret when Severn told the queen what had become of her sons. Their bodies have never been found, you see, but we all presume they are dead. The king came to Our Lady to tell his sister-in-law. He is not a humble man, you may be sure of that. And while he laid the blame for their death on Bletchley, he told her that he was responsible. He had trusted Bletchley and given him command of the Espion. It was his fault the boys were dead.” She fell quiet. “That took courage, you can imagine. No one made him tell her. And since I was there, I could tell he was not using his Fountain magic. He could have forced her to believe him, but he did not attempt to persuade her or touch her. That is why she had summoned me. She wanted to be sure that she had not been convinced against her will. One Fountain-blessed can discern the gift in another. I would have known it if he had used it against her.”
Owen adjusted his grip on the tray. His understanding of the king was beginning to shift. He realized that he, like many, might be looking at him in a way that was not entirely true.
“But why does he . . . why does he . . . I don’t know how to say this. Why does he act as if he did kill them?”
Ankarette’s gaze met his. “There is something corrupting about wearing a crown,” she answered quietly. “It changes you. I saw it happen to Eredur too. When enough people believe something of you, it can distort your view of yourself. We mimic the judgments of others. It would take a very strong person indeed to resist the effects of so much ill will. So much aversion. I don’t think King Severn is all that strong. His older brother was stronger, and yet he still succumbed to it. Severn is becoming what everyone already believes him to be. When he was younger, he never limped or stooped, despite being born with a crooked back. He limps now because of his battle wounds. His brother trusted him and he walked straight and proud. Now he’s transforming into the monster that his people believe him to be.”
I did not work for Lord Bletchley when he was the master of the Espion. He coveted the “hollow crown” for himself and thought he could intrigue his way to the throne. The faster someone rises to power, the faster they will inevitably fall. King Severn may prove an exception to this rule, I believe.
—Dominic Mancini, Espion of the Palace Kitchen
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Discovered
Owen was a curious boy. He had many questions, and when he wanted answers, he could be persistent. The Mortimer girl had pointed out the new wall, and while Owen was not pleased she had discovered it before him, he could not banish it from his mind. Her suggestion about looking from the poisoner’s tower—though she had not called it by that name—had inspired him to seek the secret entrance. It would have been easy to ask Ankarette for the information, but he wanted to see if he could find it on his own.
He stole away from the Mortimer girl on the pretext of using the garderobe and then slipped into the secret tunnels that honeycombed the palace at Kingfountain. He couldn’t wait until nightfall because then he wouldn’t be able to see very well. The tunnels were musty, but the arrow slits in the walls provided some light, and he had grown accustomed to slinking about in the shadows. He was quiet and careful, always listening for the sound of bootsteps coming from ahead or behind. He had a knack for hearing things out of place and for treading softly. The thought of becoming an Espion had its charms.
From an arrow hole in the wall of Ankarette’s tower, he had a good view of the walled-off area, though it was overgrown with trees. He could see a giant hole in the center of the enclosure. It was the strangest-looking well he had seen. It had eight sides, each with various rows that narrowed like a funnel the deeper it went. At first he thought it was a series of benches like the small amphitheater in the garden at Tatton Hall, but this wasn’t a semicircle, it was a full circle. The center of the well hole was a big eight-pointed star. There were crushed stones and pebbles around it and small sluices that led to the eight points around the perimeter.