Knight's Ransom (The First Argentines #1)(73)

“Is Lord Archer allied with you?” Ransom asked, finding his voice at last.

“No,” said Devon. “I wasn’t sure which side he would take. Father sent him back to Legault, so his involvement in this will be limited. It may be over before he gets wind of it. No matter. He’s pragmatic. He’d bend the knee, I should think, when it comes time. So . . . Ransom . . . I know you’re surprised. Not even you are clever enough to disguise yourself with me. If you are loyal to my father, I hold no grudge. You’ve been doing your duty. But I hope my mother was right. She thinks you’re the type of man who will risk everything to protect the one you serve, that you’ll put your life on the line for me, as you did for her.”

Ransom felt a little numb. “I’m still reeling from the news, my lord.”

“You should be. It’s been a carefully guarded secret.”

“May I ask why? Just to be sure I understand your motives. Your father gave you a kingdom.”

“But he shouldn’t have,” said Devon. “That’s not how he earned it. He won Ceredigion. He defeated King Gervase, although he didn’t kill the man to do it. He negotiated a transition of power, became his rightful heir. I wear a crown, but it’s a band of gold. It’s worth nothing!” Devon’s expression became more heated, more agitated. “He gave it to me because he didn’t want everyone fighting over succession. But Father is young, and he would never willingly pass his authority to me. Not even a portion of it. Without it, the title is empty. The people prefer me to him—you’ve heard the man’s sharp tongue, and he’s miserly besides—and he’s content to use that to his advantage. But if I want real authority, I have no choice but to take it. That is how things are done in this world. With allies and with strength. It’s like the game of Wizr, which is so popular here in Occitania. Father detests the game, but I’m grateful to have learned it. This is my move, Ransom. My threat on the board. One side cannot have two kings.” He folded his arms again. “Which side will you be playing on?”

“Your father suspects you,” Ransom said. “That was why he wanted to send me to fetch the princess.”

“He is paranoid in the extreme,” Devon said. “But while he doesn’t trust me, he doesn’t suspect his wife. That’s how I know we will succeed. By the time he learns of her betrayal, it will be too late to react to it. She’s tried, Ransom. She’s tried to help him understand that his decisions are alienating his sons. He’s too proud to trust us with the same authority his father gave him when he was a young man. Instead he gives me the peel and keeps the whole fruit to himself. He should have listened to his queen.”

It made sense now, why the princess had been so cautious about her brother’s health. Why she worried Ransom would challenge him or something would force them into conflict with each other. The princess wouldn’t want anything to get in the way of the rebellion that, if successful, would increase her power and authority, making her a real queen instead of a fake one.

“I trust your word as a knight,” Devon said. “Whatever you tell me, I will believe. If you are loyal to my father, there is no shame.”

“One more question, my lord.”

“Of course. But make it quick. I’m getting cold.”

Ransom smiled, remembering the shivering nights he’d spent while a captive with DeVaux’s men.

“What if your father wins? Have you considered that?”

Devon pursed his lips and shrugged. “I find it unlikely, but you’re right. It is wise to consider all possibilities.” He rubbed his goatee and paced a bit. “Will my father execute me for treason? Lash me with ropes inside a boat and send me into the river? I think not.” He stopped and faced Ransom. “Actually, I think he would respect me more for having tried and failed. But let’s be honest, Ransom. He’s facing the combined might of the Vexin, North Cumbria, five hundred knights under me, and the King of Occitania, including . . . which you so adroitly learned this evening, the support of the Duke of Bayree and Count Hardle. Both of whom deserve a flogging for not being more discreet.”

“When did you plan on telling me?”

“Before we left Pree,” Devon said. “The only way you were to go with us was to pledge your loyalty anew. Now, it’s cold out here, and my wife is awaiting me in bed. Have you decided yet?”

It was a heavy decision to make. And a painful one. Ransom didn’t want to be disloyal to either man. But Devon the Younger had made his decision, and now Ransom needed to do the same. He couldn’t be loyal to both father and son.

In this moment, he did wish he could hear the voice of the Fountain, if only so he could know what was right. He did not wish to fall in with the Occitanians, but Devon was the man he had agreed to serve, and there was no denying the king had used his son as a sort of prop—a figurehead. The Younger King had, at least, the cunning to be a king.

But Ransom was the one who had to decide, no one else. He found himself thinking of that first meeting with the king and queen, and in it he found his answer.

“I never deceived you,” Ransom said. “Your father did not suborn me to betray you. He asked me to serve you, and I agreed.” He dropped down to his knee. “I am your sworn man, and I will be so long as you’ll have me.”