The Queen's Poisoner (Kingfountain, #1)(60)

Another sound reached Owen’s ears, one that caused a jolt of alarm. It was Dunsdworth’s voice, and from the tone, he had come looking for trouble. Owen glanced at the door as the older boy came swaggering into the kitchen, disdainful of the crowds, and began elbowing his way over to the very corner where they sat.

Ankarette’s face went white. “I must go,” she whispered softly. Rising from the bench, she started away from them and headed toward the bread ovens. It was all happening so quickly, Owen could only take note of his own alarm and hers before Dunsdworth came close enough to see her. As the older boy gazed upon Ankarette, his expression altered into recognition.

“You?” Dunsdworth said in shock and surprise. Ankarette took advantage of the commotion to try and slip away, but the boy barged through the crowd and cut her off.

“I think he knows her,” Evie said with concern. She rose, a frown forming on her lips. “Who was she?”

Dunsdworth’s face was livid with rage. “You . . . you’re alive? But how can this be? What trickery?”

So Dunsdworth knew Ankarette Tryneowy. He recognized her. The dread thickened inside Owen, almost choking him.

“I’m afraid you’re confused,” Ankarette said softly, trying to escape, but the young man barred her way and reached out to grab her arm. She deftly avoided the hand, retreating deeper into the kitchen. Owen knew she could easily best Dunsdworth, but this was not a contest of skill. Too much attention had already been directed at them.

If Ankarette were caught, Owen had no doubt she would be killed. It was his fault she had come down into the kitchen at all. He needed to help her. But how? His mind worked furiously to solve the problem. Then he felt a little gush bloom inside him, followed by a flowing sensation, and suddenly his mind was full of ideas. He saw all the possibilities laid out before him. And he acted.

He grabbed one of the Wizr pieces, jumped over the bench, and rushed toward Dunsdworth. Distract him. Draw him away so Ankarette could escape through the secret door.

“Look what the king gave me!” Owen said loudly. He rushed up to Dunsdworth and shoved the piece beneath his nose.

“Who cares about your toy!” Dunsdworth thundered, trying to shove Owen out of his way.

Owen thrust the piece into his face again. “It’s not a toy. It’s the king’s gift! You probably don’t even know how to play Wizr.”

The rebuke was enough to wrest Dunsdworth’s attention away from Ankarette. “Why would I care to play that silly game? Life is not like Wizr. Two pieces of stone aren’t two men, one trained more than the other.” He yanked the piece out of Owen’s hand and gave him a rough shove.

“That’s mine!” Owen shouted with pretended rage. “You’re jealous because the king gave me a gift and he only teases you. Give it back!” Owen grabbed Dunsdworth’s belt and yanked it hard to try and propel himself upward. As he yanked, his fingers began to deftly loosen the belt buckle. “It’s mine!”

“Give it back!” Evie shouted angrily. She had rushed up to them and was standing nearby, her fists clenched and her cheeks pale with anger. “It’s Owen’s!”

“Get off!” Dunsdworth barked. He waved the piece over his head with one hand and gave Owen a hard shove with the other, sending him crashing to the ground.

With Dunsdworth’s belt.

Without the belt, Dunsdworth’s pants dropped down to his ankles, revealing his linen braies, which were hitched up high. There was a spattering of laughter throughout the kitchen, but it was the tittering of the ladies that made the lad’s face turn purple. Owen’s arm hurt from landing on the hard tiles, but his plan had worked. Ankarette had used the commotion to slip away.

Suddenly Dunsdworth’s purple face twisted with wrath and revenge. He threw down the piece and leaped on top of Owen. Snatching his belt, he started to thrash the smaller boy with vigor.

The explosion of pain made Owen gasp in shock and roll into a ball like a ticklebug.

“Stop it! Stop it!” Evie shrieked, launching herself at Dunsdworth like a cat. She yanked his hair and clawed at him in a frenzy. Freed from the onslaught for a moment, Owen could only look on in awe, surprised at how the girl had turned into a fury.

To protect himself, Dunsdworth shoved her away too, sending her sprawling, which caused the witnesses to gasp.

Owen, curled up on the floor, saw his opening. Without even rising, he kicked out his foot and caught Dunsdworth in his most sensitive area. The purple angry face went milk-white as the young man tottered over, clutching himself and whimpering.

And it was in that precise moment, as Elysabeth Victoria Mortimer was about to hurl herself at the older boy again in rage and eat his heart, that her grandfather, Duke Horwath, stormed into the kitchen. He saw his little girl on the floor, her face wet with tears of fury. He saw Dunsdworth with no pants. And he saw Owen curled up like a beaten pup.

The duke was not gentle as he hauled the young man to his feet and nearly threw him out of the kitchen ahead of him. Owen almost pitied the condemned, but then his body began to tremble with all the pent-up fear, pain, and shame of the last moments. He didn’t feel the cut on his cheekbone from the belt buckle until Evie was kneeling in front of him worriedly. She was so angry she was sobbing.

“Are you all right?” she pleaded, using the hem of her dress to mop the blood from his cheek.