The King's Traitor (Kingfountain #3)(36)
She let the magic fall away, and Owen watched in fascination as the illusion shed from them instantly. She gave him a determined look in the mirror. “I could do this with more than just the two of us. Naturally, the more people I try to disguise, the heavier the toll and the less time I would be able to maintain it.”
“You are amazing,” Owen said and watched a little flush creep across her cheeks at the praise.
“You taught me,” she demurred.
“I think those woods hide another clue that may help me figure out what game is being played against us. I don’t like losing,” he said with a growl of ambition in his voice.
“No man ever does,” she said, squeezing his arm. “Back to the letters then, so we can go.” From the smug-looking smile on her face, he could tell she was pleased with her accomplishment. It made him chuckle to himself, but then his eyes fell to the pile of letters. Groaning, he grabbed the stack and went over to the couch, languidly draping his leg over the armrest in a casual manner. He broke another seal and read the message quickly before tossing it aside.
Then he remembered the one Etayne said Farnes had brought in a rush. “Where’s the one from Farnes again?”
“It was that one. There’s a stain on it.”
He spied it and then cracked open the seal. His stomach spun and then lurched as he read the message. He pulled his leg off the rest and hurried to his feet, his pulse quickening.
“No,” he muttered darkly, feeling the calamity growing larger and larger. Eyric and Dunsdworth had escaped their confinement. They were missing. Owen had entrusted Kevan with watching over them. What could have happened to upset things?
“What is it? Tell me—your expression is frightening me!”
His heart hammered in his chest. “I can’t believe it. How? How could it happen?”
“Tell me!” she demanded.
“Eyric and Dunsdworth escaped,” he said in frustration. “They were under heavy guard. The Espion should have been able to prevent this from happening.” He cursed the constant flood of troubles that had plagued Severn’s indecorous reign. “I’m to return at once,” Owen said, glancing at the words again. “I tell you, Etayne, I am heartily sick of this! To constantly defend a man who I . . .” He caught himself, frowning and swallowing the bitterness, to keep treasonous words from spilling out of his mouth. “By the Fountain, why must we go through this again and again? This is because of Brugia. This is Maxwell’s hand. I can see the smears. He wants to be lord and master of all. Severn is the strongest ruler, so he gains the most enmity. This constant fighting and scheming. This unending intrigue. It makes me want to retch.” He sighed, shaking his head. “The duchess tried to persuade me to spend the next few days visiting other towns in Brythonica. I wish I had the freedom to do just that, but we must get back at once.” The words tumbled out before he had a chance to consider them. The look of hurt that formed on Etayne’s face made him wince. He rubbed his eyes. “What is it?”
“Only that you seem to be breaking your vow,” she answered. “You swore you’d bar your heart, Owen. You told me to remind you in case you lost your senses.”
He did not appreciate her reminder. “Go wake Farnes,” he told her, trying to curb the tone of resentfulness that threatened to make things worse. “Get him in here. We’ll need to beg our pardon and leave tonight.” He snapped his fingers. “Actually, you and I will ride on ahead like we normally do so we can make our stop in the forest first. He can stay behind and soothe any hurt feelings, make our excuses.” Plan my wedding. He caught himself in time before saying it aloud.
“I’ll get him,” she said, her eyes narrowing as she left.
When the door shut, he read Kevan’s note again. I’ve never seen the king so wroth. Owen couldn’t be sure how to interpret that statement. But queasy feelings sucked on his insides like leeches.
What would Severn do if the missing princes were finally caught?
What had Eredur done to those who posed a threat to his throne?
Owen turned and stared at the closed door, imagining he could hear the poisoner’s footsteps fading down the hall.
He grabbed the next letter on the pile. It bore the king’s seal. He blinked with surprise and cracked it open.
The words were scrawled in splotchy letters, but he recognized the king’s handwriting, the hastily crafted message addressed to Owen, Lord Kiskaddon, Duke of Westmarch.
I know you’ve betrayed me.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Threat
That brief hand-scratched note in the king’s own style had opened up a pit inside Owen’s stomach and filled it with terror. He was a child again, a helpless creature trapped inside a prison of fear. His throat seized up, and sweat began to trickle down his cheeks. Slumping onto a nearby couch, it was all he could do to keep his supper inside his body. It was a battle he soon lost, and a few warning pangs later, he rushed to the privy and vomited noisily into the garderobe hole. He crouched there, humiliated, and then sank to the floor. It felt as if his bones had turned into paper.
He sat there a long while, pondering the king’s message. He wasn’t a child anymore. He wasn’t a helpless boy. He was a man now and needed to act like one. Even though his heart felt weighed down with despair, he rallied his wits to try to think of what was happening.