The King's Traitor (Kingfountain #3)(25)

Etayne stepped forward, dagger behind her back, gripping the tip between her fingers in preparation to throw it. She pushed the curtain aside, and Owen caught a glimpse of the woman who had entered his chamber.

He gripped Etayne’s knife arm to prevent her from hurling the weapon.

A memory darted in Owen’s mind. Recognition. He blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. The woman was much older than the last time he’d seen her, probably thirty. She wore the fashionable gown of a lady-in-waiting, not a servant, and it fit her well. But it was her face that jarred him. He knew that face.

With the curtain flung aside, the woman saw him and Etayne on the balcony. When her eyes met his, she startled and gasped his name, her hand clutching her breast in surprise. “Owen! It’s you! It’s really you!”

His legs felt weak. The last time he had seen her was sixteen years ago when he watched her enter a boat bound for Occitania with his parents and other siblings. She was the oldest after Jorganon’s death.

It was his sister, Jessica Kiskaddon.





CHAPTER NINE


Haven




At first Owen doubted what his heart knew. So much time had passed since he had last seen his sister. In that fraught moment, he knew one thing: he hoped it was her. He could sense the Fountain’s whispers in the night air, but it was not coming from Jessica. And it did not reveal anything to him. His sister rushed to him and pulled him into a warm embrace. She touched him, kissed him, smearing wet tears on his cheek despite her attempts to wipe them away with her wrist, then stroked his hair affectionately, her fingers grazing the spot of white still embedded in his unruly locks.

“How are you here, Sister?” he demanded. It felt as if live coals were hissing in his chest. He had never thought to see her, to see any of them again. The wedding band on her finger winked up at him, telling him that she was a Kiskaddon no longer. His eyes feasted on her. She was family—something that had been sundered from his life for too long.

She hiccupped with emotion, shaking her head as she was unable to speak. She tried to quell her tears again and then gripped his shoulder. “It was going to be a surprise. The duchess wanted to share it with you when you arrived, but your coming was so fraught with tension.” She shook her head. “Mother will be so pleased.”

“Mother is here?” Owen said, eyes widening with shock.

Jessica nodded. “We are all here, Owen. You are the last. You who saved our family from extinction. But it was the duchess who saved us from starving.”

His heart ached at the words. “Tell me what happened. I’ve tried to find you, to make sure you were alive and well, but I’ve had no word for years! You should have sent me a message!”

She shook her head. “We could not. You must understand, Owen. Our lives here have been a closely guarded secret. When you defeated Chatriyon, we had to flee for our lives. You cannot understand the depths of the Occitanians’ hatred of you. Remember Azinkeep? The shame of it still haunts this land. And then you came to Chatriyon’s own land and humiliated him. You weren’t even a king but a duke. They sent a poisoner to kill us, but the duchess managed to smuggle us away. We’ve been living in Ploemeur these last few years. We were given new names, a manor house. Papan is in charge of overseeing taxes on the goods traded in our ports. It’s a position of great trust. I am one of the duchess’s ladies-in-waiting. She has been so good to us, Owen. She found me an honorable husband. Our brother Timond is a knight at court. Our sister Ann is here as well. We are so fortunate. But we had to keep our identities secret for fear of us being used to harm or threaten you.”

Owen stared at her, amazed at what he was hearing. “And Lady Sinia did this?”

Jessica nodded emphatically. “She is a noble woman, Owen. A generous and thoughtful soul. She’s lost both her parents, but there is no trace of bitterness. She was so young when she was named the Duchess of Brythonica. Without Marshal Roux’s craftiness and courage, we would have been invaded long ago. She was going to bring you to see us at our manor house, but I couldn’t bear to wait. I needed to touch you and make sure you were real.” She stroked his hair with a pained smile. “You are here. You look . . . rather ragged for a duke.” She sniffed and grimaced slightly. “I was expecting you would arrive in all your state. But you look and smell like a common soldier.”

“I am a soldier,” Owen said with a dark chuckle. “Fighting wars for the king has been my task in life. We’ve had no peace since Ambion Hill.”

Her eyes narrowed with some inner wisdom. “Nor will you, so I fear.”

He wrinkled his brow. “What do you mean, Jessica?”

“It is not my place to say,” she said, pressing her lips together tightly. “But this much I can tell you. There is a reason the duchess has chosen to stay as the ruler of Brythonica. Why she refused to become the Queen of Occitania when given the chance. Why she would refuse to become the Queen of Ceredigion if Severn were to demand it.”

“And what is that reason? Jessica, you must tell me if you know.”

She shook her head firmly. “I cannot, Owen. It is not my secret to share. The duchess will, if she trusts you.” She squirmed uncomfortably. “Owen . . . you look so old for one so young. I can see in your eyes how much suffering you have known. You cannot understand how much it grieved us to leave you behind. You saved us. We are not ungrateful; surely you must know that.” She hugged him again and planted a moist kiss on his cheek. “But our family was sundered that day. There has been the ghost of pain these many years. Maman and Papan will be so happy to see you. You must come soon, Owen. It will ease their anguish to see you again.”