The Queen's Poisoner (Kingfountain, #1)(89)

“What is it, lad?” he asked in a kindly voice. “Tell me of your dream.”

Everyone was staring at Owen. The soldiers. Duke Horwath. The princess. Ratcliffe. The king. All their eyes bored into him, all their ears listened, and he realized he had power over these men. A king was kneeling in front of him because he believed Owen was Fountain-blessed and could read the future. He was convinced.

All Owen needed to do was speak.

His tongue grew thick in his mouth. The pressure of being the focus of so much pointed attention unearthed his hidden terrors and fears, which came popping up from the ground like worms after a rainstorm. Owen dug his hand into his pocket and felt the reassuring touch of his friend’s hair. He wished she were there. He could almost see her in his mind’s eye, standing behind the king with an impatient look. Just tell him!

“My lord,” Ratcliffe interrupted, suddenly nervous. “It’s so early. Wouldn’t it be better to hear the lad later, during breakfast? The queen’s poisoner is dead, so you need not fear your meals now. It’s nearly dawn. Surely this can wait.”

The queen’s poisoner was dead? Owen’s stomach took an uneasy flop.

The king’s hand rested on the boy’s shoulder. “Tell me,” he said.

Owen licked his lips. He tried to speak, but his tongue wouldn’t work. A worried spurt of panic enveloped his gut. Was Ankarette dying? No! She had said she would wait for him to return. She was tired, that was all. Owen forced himself to concentrate.

“Go ahead,” Princess Elyse said coaxingly.

“My lord . . .” Ratcliffe whined.

“Shut it!” Horwath barked at him.

“I did have a dream,” Owen said, looking into the king’s gray eyes. A wavering smile hovered on the king’s mouth, encouraging him to continue. “In the dream, I saw three golden bucks. They had big antlers, though one of the bucks was small. They came walking across a field. There was a white pig in the field. A happy pig. The bucks knelt before the pig, their antlers touching the ground. While they were kneeling, a rat with a knife approached them.” Owen swallowed, feeling the hate burning at him from Ratcliffe’s eyes. He focused on the king’s face. “The rat wanted to slaughter the bucks. To eat them.”

“This is intolerable!” muttered Ratcliffe desperately.

The king held up his other hand, cutting him off. “Go on.”

“The white pig shook its snout. It would not let the rat hurt the deer.” Owen swallowed again, squirming. He understood the dream. He understood what Ankarette was trying to do. “The white pig . . . the white pig couldn’t trust the bucks, though. And so he went with them to the river.” The king’s grip on his shoulder tightened, almost painfully. His eyes stared into Owen’s eyes with a look of shock.

“Listen to him, my lord!” Ratcliffe said suddenly, his tone changing.

“The pig could not trust the bucks,” Owen went on. “They had not defended the pig when hunters were trying to kill him. So the pig, the white pig, put the bucks on a boat in the river. And he sent them to another land, a land full of flowers. The boat sailed upstream, away from the falls. Only one of the bucks stayed behind. The littlest buck stayed by the pig. It stayed right next to the pig.” Owen’s voice trailed off, almost to a whisper. The king was hanging on his every word.

Then Owen lifted his voice again. “What happened next was the pig sniffed at the rat. I think it was smelly. And there, in the rat’s fur, was a gold coin. The pig grew tusks, like a boar. And with the tusks, it threw the rat in the river. The rat . . . drowned.”

There was a series of gasps when he spoke the final part.

The king was astonished. His eyes were so curious, his expression so moved with emotion that he pressed several fingers against his lips, but he kept his other hand on Owen’s shoulder. Suddenly, Owen heard the rushing of the Fountain. The sound filled his ears and the king’s hand tightened on his shoulder. Owen felt the magic rushing down the king’s arm.

Can you hear me?

It was the king’s voice, in Owen’s mind.

Yes.

The king blinked, but did not seem surprised.

You know what your dream means, don’t you, Owen?

Yes. It means my parents are guilty of treason. I know that now.

The king quivered with suppressed emotions. His eyes were fierce. You know then, that I have to punish them. I cannot trust them. I cannot let your father serve me. Owen, you must understand this. I must destroy them or risk an even worse betrayal. Owen, please understand. I don’t wish to hurt you. But I cannot let them escape, not when I have power to stop further mischief. A prince must make difficult decisions betimes. A prince must destroy his enemies when he has the chance.

Owen felt the power of the Fountain rushing through him. The king was using his power to convince him that his parents must die. He could tell that the king truly believed he had no choice. That wisdom and prudence demanded justice for his parents’ involvement at Ambion Hill. Owen was utterly convinced it was just.

But he also realized the king was using the magic of the Fountain on him. And so he turned it back against him.

But a king can pardon an enemy, Owen thought in response. You have that right and that power. My dream tells you the Fountain’s will for my parents. And its will for me. I will serve you. I will take their place.