The Queen's Poisoner (Kingfountain, #1)(67)

Ankarette turned to Mancini. “Do you have any suggestions?”

Mancini looked at her, startled. “I did my part!” he complained angrily. “This is just the sort of gossip you wanted from me. I had to run . . . run! . . . from Our Lady. I won’t catch my breath for another week.” He groaned and jiggled his joints. “I even tossed a coin into the Fountain for good luck, which shows my utter desperation that Gates won’t think to connect his violent diarrhea with the muffin I gave him! If he does, I’m a dead man.”

“You’ve done well, Dominic,” Ankarette soothed. She stopped pacing and turned quickly. “Owen, do you know what an eel is?”

He blinked at her.

“They’re like snake fishes!” Evie chimed in.

Owen nodded but grimaced. “I don’t like them,” he said, shaking his head. “They taste funny.”

Ankarette beamed. “The blessing of talking to the children of nobles! Yes, an eel is like a water snake. This is what you must say, Owen. You were in the kitchen this morning. You heard Liona say she was planning to make eel for the king’s dinner. That made you think of eels, and then you felt like you were an eel. An eel that was caught by a fishhook. You struggled against the hook, but you were dragged out of the water. There was a rat with a fishing rod on the shore. You were the eel. Can you remember this, Owen?”

Evie frowned. “What does it mean? Oh! Ely! That’s the eel!”

Ankarette winked at her. “Clever girl.”

There was a firm double knock at the door.

“This way, Dominic,” Ankarette said, motioning for him to follow her. Ankarette waved at Owen to go to the door and then slipped through another doorway with Mancini and shut it behind her. Moments later, Berwick had unlocked the door and was standing in the frame, his face dripping sweat.

“Look at you two! Always gettin’ into mischief! The king’s at breakfast noow, don’t you know! Come along, come along. I’ll be bruised if I get in trouble for you being late.”

Owen and Evie marched out and followed him. She squeezed his hand as they walked, but Owen’s stomach was indeed wriggling like a hooked eel. Berwick’s limp became more pronounced. As they walked, a man turned the corner ahead of them, wearing the badge of the king—the white boar. When he saw them, his eyes narrowed and his expression changed.

“Found ’em!” Berwick said, giving Owen a little jab to his head with his fist. “These two are naught but trouble. Someone younger and more limber needs to watch after them. Goch!”

The man did not respond, but after they passed him, he continued down the hall the way they had come. He went straight to the servant’s door and rattled the handle, but Berwick had locked it.

When they turned the corner out of the man’s sight, Berwick offered a puckered sigh of relief. They strode into the great hall where breakfast was already underway. King Severn was making his rounds of the tables, jabbing at his youthful guests, while Ratcliffe stood fidgeting in the corner. When the head of the Espion saw them enter, a look of relief quickly passed over his eyes, followed promptly by blazing anger.

“Ah, you’ve come at last!” the king said with a sardonic look. “Normally one waits on the king, but I see that I must wait on two wayward children. How pleasant of you both to join us.”

“Pardon, my lord,” Berwick said sheepishly. He bowed several times. “My pardon, my pardon. These two made a royal mess last night and I was chiding them—”

“You were chiding them?” the king interrupted, a wry look in his eye. “I think a piece of white fluff made it all the way down to my bedchamber this morn. But then again, the bit of down may have come from my own pillow.” He chuckled to himself, his face brightening a bit at the mischief. He already knew.

“Again, I beg your pardon,” Berwick said, bowing meekly as he slowly retreated. Ratcliffe caught him before he could escape and began snarling in his ear.

“Ease off, Ratcliffe,” the king said with a twinge of annoyance. “But their escapades last night do not condone such behavior from the rest of you,” he added, wagging a finger at the other youngsters in the room. “Why so sullen this morning, Lord Dunsdworth? Is the fare not to your liking?”

Owen’s stomach roiled with nerves as the king’s attention focused on the older boy, who was sulking from the humiliations of the previous day. His cheeks were ruddy and he grunted something under his breath. Owen wondered how Lord Horwath had cowed him so much.

“Go,” Evie whispered in his ear, nudging him.

He would rather have jumped into the cistern again than face the king. Ankarette’s words were all jumbling inside his head. Before, she had taught him precisely what to say. They had practiced it several times. There had been time to think on it, to practice it in his head. This was very different, extremely urgent.

“Go!” she insisted, butting him harder.

He sighed and started toward the king. A man he didn’t recognize came into the hall, looked around a moment, and then started walking toward Ratcliffe and Berwick. There was a queasy look on his face and one of his gloved hands held his stomach. Owen had the distinct suspicion that this was the man who had just arrived, the one Mancini had poisoned. Time was running out.

Owen’s stomach began to thicken in his mouth. He glanced back at Evie and saw her eyes boring into his. You will do this! her look commanded. Her eyes were very green at that moment.