The King's Traitor (Kingfountain #3)(33)
“You’re welcome,” she said, smiling at him again. She was about to turn away when he caught her wrist.
“Did you know why I had come to Brythonica?” he asked her pointedly.
She seemed taken aback by the question. For an instant, she looked worried, frightened. The emotion was quickly suppressed, but he noticed it. She hesitated before responding, her mood becoming less playful. “Isn’t the point of Wizr,” she answered enigmatically, “to anticipate your opponent’s next move?”
My lord Kiskaddon,
The king commands you return at once to Kingfountain. There is no mincing words on this news. Eyric and Dunsdworth have escaped the tower. Their guards were undoubtedly bribed or murdered, for there was no watch on them this morn. We have hounds and men tracking them, for it seems they have gone upriver. You can only imagine the state of agitation at present. Would there was a way we could contact you more directly. Hopefully they will have been recaptured by the time you receive this news. I’ve never seen the king so wroth. Return at once, my lord.
Kevan Amrein
Kingfountain Palace
CHAPTER TWELVE
Traitor
Before meeting his parents, Owen arranged for a change of clothing since his were damp from the dunking he’d taken at the beach. He was very nervous about the encounter, not just because it was so unexpected but also because he didn’t know how his parents and other siblings would react to him after so many years apart.
He needn’t have worried.
The dome of his father’s head was completely bald, but he still had a fringe of graying hair around the sides and back, shorn close to his scalp. His skin was marked in places with liver splotches and craggy wrinkles, but he was fit and strong. Mother had crow’s-feet around her eyes, but she also had aged well, and the instant Owen entered the room, she engulfed him in a fierce, motherly hug. She kissed him repeatedly on the cheek, by his ear, and on the patch of white in his hair. Then, gripping the front of his fashionable tunic, she pulled him so close their noses almost touched.
“I have never stopped thinking about you,” she whispered to him, looking into his eyes with such intensity. Her voice was thick with emotion. “Not one day. I rejoice at every scrap of news I hear about you. But a mother’s love holds true. Even though you’re taller than me now, you are still my little miracle.”
Jessica was beaming, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes as she waited for her turn to greet him once more. Then the entire family crowded around him, pulling him into the center of a vast embrace. And while they felt a little like strangers, he could feel memories of his childhood at Tatton Hall begin to emerge from the haze of the past.
“Welcome to Ploemeur,” Papan said. “I cannot wait to hear about your adventures.”
“You must tell us all of them,” Jessica implored, tugging his tunic sleeve.
Owen was uncomfortable with so much attention, but it was from them, and that made a difference. Through the crowd, he spied the Duchess of Brythonica, watching the reunion and keeping to herself. She had staged the moment deliberately.
He was still unsure of her motives, but he was grateful nonetheless and tipped a nod to her from across the room.
“Are you really Fountain-blessed as they say?” said his other sister Ann. She had long blond hair that went down to her waist. He had vague memories of her constantly brushing it at the window seat while staring outside.
“Tell them about the battle of Averanche!” Jessica suggested.
“I don’t care about battles and war,” Maman said in a scolding tone. “Did you truly come here to marry the duchess? I would blame your mother for your manners if I dared.”
“Where to start?” Owen said at last.
The moon was gleaming silver in the sky as Owen and Sinia left the House of Pillars, walking side by side. They were followed by her entourage, all of whom were a little bleary-eyed due to the lateness of the hour. The air was brisk and calm, the weather very mild. Owen admired the glittering stars in the sky.
“Is it always this bright out at night?” he asked.
“The fog will come in soon,” Sinia said. “It usually does.”
“I’m not looking forward to the ride back up to the castle,” he confessed. “Do you take a carriage, or ride?”
“Neither, usually,” she answered with a playful smile. The hint of mischief in her eyes made him return her smile.
“This way,” she said, capturing his arm with a little flash of possessiveness and pulling him to the rear of the House of Pillars. At the rear, there were workers hoisting huge crates off wagons. As Sinia approached, they doffed their hats respectfully. Sinia flashed them a smile and led him over to a small crowd of people, horses, and wagons.
“Do you see it?” Sinia asked, pointing ahead. Workers were securing thick ropes to the crates. The ropes were connected to some sort of crane, like the kind used in the ship docks, only Owen couldn’t see the top of it. He craned his neck and realized that they were at the foot of the cliffs, the palace high above them.
“You’re not serious?” Owen said, looking back at the crates.
“It’s the opposite of falling,” she said, pulling him with her. The crew seemed to be expecting her. A few members of the entourage shook their heads and said they’d take a horse up instead, and she dismissed them good-naturedly.