The King's Traitor (Kingfountain #3)(32)

“I’ve played since childhood as well,” Owen said. But he didn’t reveal Ankarette’s role in teaching him. “When can we play?”

She shook her head and then gave him a piercing look. “I’ll play Wizr with you if you provide the set.” The way she said the words made his heart start pounding. Could she know about the ancient Wizr set concealed in the fountain of St. Penryn in Westmarch? St. Penryn was the vestige of the drowned kingdom of Leoneyis. This was the second subtle reference she’d made to it. They were dancing around each other, each knowing something the other did not. He hungered to know more, but he didn’t think he could trust her. Not yet.

“The king gave me a set when I was little,” Owen said, giving her an answer that he suspected she didn’t want. “I’ll bring it with me next time.”

“Do,” she answered, her eyes more guarded.

“Why do I feel like talking to you is like playing Wizr?” he said with a chuckle. He gave her a challenging look.

“Is that my fault?”

It was a soft rebuke, but a rebuke nonetheless. Owen gritted his teeth and composed himself. “No,” he answered. He decided to take a risk and confide something they both knew. “I didn’t come here expecting to marry you, Sinia,” he said in a low voice. “I came because my king commanded it and I serve him. Would Marshal Roux do any less?”

She glided her fingers through the sand with one hand, her other arm propping her up. “He is as loyal to me as you are to your king. The difference, I think, is that he is loyal because he respects what he serves. He doesn’t fear me.” She met his gaze, and Owen swallowed.

“Severn Argentine is not the monster everyone says he is,” he said defensively, falling back on an old argument that had once been true. Ankarette had once told him that Severn was influenced by what people thought of him, which he knew to be true.

Sinia looked down again, tracing a circle with her finger. “I think he became the monster everyone said he was.” Her eyelashes fluttered, and when she looked up at him, it felt as if her eyes were seeing into him. Her expression said, Is the same thing happening to you?

Owen squirmed with discomfort. He didn’t like the way the conversation was going.

She must have sensed his reaction, for she changed tack. “We tend to resemble those we interact with the most. The Argentine temper is legendary, especially in these lands. The first Argentine king married his third son to the Duchess of Brythonica. Did you know that?”

“I did,” Owen said, grateful once again for Evie’s deep knowledge of history and their endless discussions about it.

“It was a tragic marriage,” she said, using the flat of her hand to smooth away the circle she’d drawn. “The king was unfaithful to her. She rebelled against him and tried to put her son on his throne. Owen, do you ever have a feeling that the past keeps coming back? See how the tide is creeping up toward us. In a few hours, this entire cove will be underwater. Then it will recede again. In and out, wet and dry. I feel like that sometimes. That the past is inescapable.” There was a haunted sense of longing in her voice. She didn’t look at him, as if she were suddenly shy.

“You’re asking if I will betray you?” he said, his insides roiling from her observation about the recurring nature of things—one he had often considered himself.

She pursed her lips. “You admitted that you came here to offer your troth because your king forced your hand. He will not be king forever. No one ever is.” Her hands stopped moving through the sand, her fingers suddenly taut and talon-like, digging into the sand. She was struggling with some unspoken emotion. “It doesn’t bode well for our marriage,” she added softly.

Owen suspected she knew all about his past with Elysabeth. Pain stabbed his heart, and once again he cursed Severn for the poison the king had forced him to drink. It was a bitter cup still. Did the duchess question his motives for bringing a beautiful woman with him in his entourage? Did she even know Etayne was a poisoner?

He felt muddled and miserable. The tendril of a wave came up to them, close enough that he watched the foamy bubbles pop and the sand drink in the moisture.

“We’d better go,” Sinia said, sitting upright and brushing her hands together. Owen was still squatting, his knees aching, and he rose to his feet. Then, in a gallant gesture, he extended his hand to her to help her stand.

She looked surprised by the offer, but a pleased smile spread across her face. Her hand was so warm, and he could feel the specks of sand still clinging to her skin. He pulled her up and she straightened, shaking the sand loose from her skirts.

“Thank you,” she said and started away from the oncoming tide. The sea was flat and gray on the horizon.

She had left her sandals behind again. He smirked as he bent down to retrieve them, keeping a wary eye on the waves. Though he caught up to Sinia, he didn’t give her sandals back until they reached the smooth rocks and she turned to look for them.

An embarrassed but relieved smile touched her mouth when she realized Owen was holding them.

“Your parents and siblings will be joining us for dinner at the House of Pillars,” she said, tugging on one damp sandal while balancing herself against the stone. “I thought you might want to see them. I know Jessica told you they were here. She’s dear to me.”

“I would indeed,” Owen said, feeling a flush of gratitude, even though he knew she’d done it deliberately. “Thank you.” He’d come looking for her so he could make his excuses and return to Kingfountain to deal with the news about Drew. But their conversation had altered his urgency. Perhaps he could make time to see his parents after all.