The King's Traitor (Kingfountain #3)(30)

He turned to look at her. “What memories?”

Her eyes were wise. “Of long ago. Places now forgotten.” She turned and looked back at the sea. “Like Leoneyis.”

There was something she wasn’t saying. He could sense the innuendo in her words.

“I’ve heard you collect relics from that lost realm,” he said suspiciously.

She shrugged. “I’m not the only ruler who has done so,” she answered simply. “The collection in Ceredigion is vast. But, of course, that would be expected. Since it was the kingdom of King Andrew and Queen Genevieve.” She gave him a pointed look, a look that said so much it made his heart quake.

She was toying with him. Testing him. It was no coincidence that she had brought him to the seashore. Again he had the feeling that he was being outmaneuvered in a game of Wizr.

“I’m surprised all the sea glass isn’t gone,” he said stiffly. “One would think it would all have been claimed by now.”

“Not so,” she answered. “These beaches are guarded by certain laws and covenants. Only one chest full of sea glass can be harvested each year. It is bid upon and sold. The selling can take several months. Depending on the color, the size, and the shape, it can fetch outrageous prices.”

Owen pursed his lips. “But wouldn’t that drive men to come steal it at night? That handful you gave me . . . how much would it have been worth?”

“What does it matter? It’s only broken glass. It’s worth nothing, truly. But because it is rare, because it is withheld, it is worth so much more. No one comes to steal from this beach, Owen. No one would dare risk offending the Fountain. I’ve heard in your kingdom that people steal coins from the water fountains. Is that true?”

Owen shook his head. “Not often. If someone is caught stealing from one of the fountains, the thief will be thrown into the river to go over the falls.”

Sinia nodded. “For that reason, the sea glass remains here unprotected. Or should I say, it is protected by the traditions that bind us.” Her gaze narrowed. “When those traditions are cast aside, there are often unwanted consequences.”

There seemed to be deeper significance to her words, but the meaning was veiled from him. She knew about the Deep Fathoms. She knew about Leoneyis, things that could not be learned in the history books that Polidoro Urbino studied. There were things Owen could learn from her. But he still felt he was being manipulated, and he didn’t like it. It gave him a sour taste.

He decided to flip the game by going on the attack. His voice became colder and more detached. “I came a great distance to meet with you, my lady. I did as my king commanded me, no more.”

“I understand,” she replied graciously.

“But I’d like to make it clear what I came here to accomplish. I didn’t come all this way to become your consort. Not just your husband. King Severn expects me to rule Brythonica as I’ve ruled Westmarch. I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding between us, my lady.”

He watched her eyes closely, looking for anger and resentment. Looking for defiance to tighten her nostrils.

There was none of that in her expression. Instead, she looked disappointed. As if she had expected more of him than what he was giving her.

She reached out and touched his arm again. “Of course we understand each other,” she answered almost sadly. “I would expect no less.” She sighed and then her eyes narrowed as she saw someone approaching. Owen turned and saw Thierry marching toward them on the beach, a messenger at his heels.

Sinia let go of Owen’s arm and started forward to meet them.

As soon as she walked away, a surge of surf crashed against Owen’s boots, startling him. While they had been close to the shore, none of the waves had even come near them, but this one caught him by surprise. Sinia’s sandals lifted up in the swell, and he hurried to try to catch them before they were dragged out to sea. Saltwater splashed him in the face as he tried to bend over and snatch them, leaving the foul taste of brine on his tongue.

With his chin dripping, he looked back as Sinia walked away from him, her skirts pulled up to her ankles as she strode across the sand. She looked absolutely beautiful in the fading sunlight, and he simply stood there and looked at her for a moment, clutching her dripping sandals in his hand, trying to understand what he was even feeling and trying even harder to control it.

And that’s when the next wave hit him from behind, knocking him down.





CHAPTER ELEVEN


Betrayal




Seawater sloshed in Owen’s ears as he trudged through the sand in his soaked clothes, and he shook his head to jostle it loose. Thierry greeted him with a baleful look. The messenger was from Pisan and spoke in a thick accent, but it was clearly understood. The mousy-looking fellow was wringing his hands.

Owen still clung to Sinia’s sandals, which were also dripping wet, and stood by her side, asserting himself as her equal.

“The storm was brutal, my lady,” the messenger said in a distraught voice. “There were four ships in harbor, and each was smashed against the wall. The cargo is ruined!”

The duchess put her hand on the messenger’s shoulder. “What was the cargo? Foodstuffs?”

“Aye,” he replied miserably. “All ruined by the sea. We have enough stores to last a fortnight, but without those shipments, our people will go hungry. We sought aid from the King of Occitania, but he demanded five times the worth of the cargo. Five times!”