The King's Traitor (Kingfountain #3)(46)
“Precisely,” she said earnestly. “The one who wears the hollow crown can make the river stop flowing through his violation of the principles upon which the sanctuaries were founded. When a ruler stops being just. When they are unfaithful. These are examples.”
Owen nodded in understanding. “That is why Tunmore was so desperate for the set to be moved!” he said, beginning his habit of pacing. “This was years ago. He thought Severn was going to freeze the kingdom! He needed someone who was Fountain-blessed to move the chest to St. Penryn because he couldn’t. Why here?”
Sinia smiled with excitement. “Yes . . . why here? What does your intuition tell you?”
Owen snapped his fingers. “Because St. Penryn isn’t part of Ceredigion at all. It is by tradition, but it was once part of Leoneyis. Once the set left the borders, the curse stopped.”
She gave him a lovely smile and an encouraging nod. “You’re close, Owen. It did not stop the curse; it merely slowed it. If you return the Wizr set to Ceredigion, the curse will set in once more—and quickly. The game plays on. It must play on. Have you not noticed the winters in Ceredigion growing ever colder and bleaker these last seven years? We each have a role to play. I don’t want Ceredigion to be destroyed. I don’t want its people to be trapped in a blizzard and frozen to death, just as much as I don’t want my own people to drown.”
Owen stared at her, feeling the awful weight of pending doom. The memories of the drowned cove of Edonburick and the ruined buildings of Brythonica still made him tremble. “You’ve been helping me all along, haven’t you?” He looked her in the eye. “When your people aided mine during the battle of Averanche, I saw the white Wizr piece on the board. That was . . . you were there, Sinia?” He stopped his pacing and stared at her in shock.
She reached out and grasped his hands in excitement. “I was! I couldn’t tell you. Do you remember the storm?”
“You caused it? Through the water bowl! The grove! By the Fountain, that was you!”
Her smile was even brighter. “I was there. I have been helping you. The Fountain needed you to protect the true king of Ceredigion. You know the prophecy of the Dreadful Deadman. You know who it is, don’t you?”
Owen nodded. “I do. And he’s at Kingfountain palace right now if I’m not mistaken.”
“You’re not,” she added knowingly.
Owen sighed and looked up at the support struts of the chamber. “And there’s a good chance I’ll be a dead man if I return.” Her hands were still holding his. He pulled away and wiped his mouth, his mind whirling with the flurry of revelations. He looked over and saw the deconeus standing beneath an arch, his eyes full of reverence and awe.
“Don’t be so sure of that,” Sinia said meaningfully. “Your man Farnes left a message that you’d been summoned back to the king.”
Should he trust her? If the duchess could see the future, then aligning himself with her might be his only chance for survival. Assuming, of course, that she wasn’t deliberately misleading him. It came back to the ability to read someone’s intentions. Ankarette had decided to trust Evie after meeting her in the kitchen of Kingfountain. Owen had to make the same fateful decision.
He glanced back at the deconeus.
“He cannot hear us,” Sinia said. “All he can hear is the lapping of the fountain waters. He sees me as a manifestation of the Fountain. He thinks you are having a vision.”
Owen chuckled. “So do I.”
“Do you trust me, Owen?” she asked hopefully. “I’ve tried to show you that you can. Neither of us wants our people to perish. But they will, Owen, if you don’t stop the king.”
“I believe you. Trust is difficult for me.”
Her look changed dramatically, into one that was full of pain. “I know it is,” she said emphatically. “You’ve made many decisions without knowing the consequences. The Fountain has guided you during those critical moments. Even knowing the future, I cannot tell you what will happen. If I tell you something out of order, it may influence your decisions. In the end, it’s our choices that affect what happens in the world. You must be the one to choose, Owen. I will guide you as best I can.”
“How can you trust me?” Owen said. “My lady, I killed Brendon Roux. I didn’t know who he was, but I left him for dead. I think you already know this.”
She let out a mournful sigh and nodded. “Let me put this simply. In order for you to change sides on the board, another piece needed to be removed. You are meant to be my protector now. If you choose to accept your fate, if you put on the ring he gave you, if you make a promise of fealty to me, then your piece on the board will change color. You will become a knight on the white side. I cannot make you do this.”
Owen wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. “Chatriyon’s side?” he chuffed.
She shook her head seriously. “No. King Andrew’s side.”
Her words cut him to the quick, melting his smirk away. “This is real, is it not?”
“All too real,” she answered. “This game of Wizr is perilous.” She stepped up to the board, admiring the remaining pieces. “The Wizrs of old made the rules. The game wasn’t called Wizr back then. It was called the Siege Perilous. The Wizrs survived when kingdoms fell. Then they would offer the game to another man ambitious enough to rule.” She looked at him pointedly, but could not say what she was thinking. He saw the secrets hidden in her blue eyes, the longing to tell him that which she could not share. “Do you have a plan, Owen? A way to defeat the king?”