The King's Traitor (Kingfountain #3)(68)

“It’s like this, Drew,” she said patiently, adjusting the pieces again. “Here, then here—threat and mate! You defeat them in four moves.” Strands of her nut-brown hair were braided around the back of her neck, where they joined into a single braid going down her back. She had hazel eyes, but they did not shift colors with her mood like her mother’s did. Owen smiled to himself.

“And to block it,” Drew said, his brow knit, “you bring this pawn over here at the beginning. Or move the knight over there.” He tapped both pieces.

“Exactly!” she purred. “That’s how you keep from being defeated in the first moments of the game. I have my own Wizr set at home. It’s gray and white. My papa gave it to me when I was five. Do you have a set?” Even her voice sounded like Evie’s!

Drew frowned a little. “No. I don’t have very much.”

She looked concerned at that. “Not even a set made of wood?”

He shook his head. “No one has ever let me play. But I like to watch.”

“That’s not right,” she said a little indignantly. “I’m going to get you a set, Drew. It’s not fair not to have one if you want one. I wish you could come back to Atabyrion with me. There is a place there called Wizr Falls!” She began to launch into a vivid description of a place Owen had once visited, and he watched with interest as Drew listened to her, his eyes widening with fascination as she spoke.

The White King’s queen.

The whisper from the Fountain echoed his own thoughts. The same story is told, over and over, he reminded himself. These two children had been thrown together in a miasma of politics and intrigue. Genevieve was the king’s hostage, just as Owen had once been. And while the names Andrew and Genevieve were commonplace now, it was perhaps more than coincidence that the parents had named their children thusly. The original Andrew’s queen had come from a foreign alliance as well.

Owen looked up and noticed that Lady Kathryn had left the window and was staring down at the children, giving little Drew a heartrending look of longing and pain. She slowly approached them and knelt down to watch them play and talk. Her fingers delicately grazed the boy’s golden hair, and he looked up at her with a shy smile.

The realization that the boy didn’t understand the tender gesture nearly broke Owen. Drew turned back to the game, listening keenly to Genevieve as she explained another series of maneuvers between the pieces.

“Now the Wizr piece is the most powerful one. It can move the farthest and challenge any other piece. One of the strategies people use is to try and kill that piece near the beginning of the game.”

Drew frowned. “Why would they do that?”

“Because it’s so powerful. Some people will sacrifice two or even three pieces to destroy it, even though it upsets the rest of their defenses.”

Drew nodded with concern. “That’s not fair. Do you think there are real Wizrs today?”

Owen chuckled to himself and both children turned to look at him.

“Oh, I didn’t see you there,” Genevieve said brightly. “You’re Lord Owen.”

“I am,” he replied, dropping down on his haunches to be on their level. “Your mother taught you Wizr?” he asked her. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Lady Kathryn had tears swimming in hers as she stared at Drew. She quickly covered her mouth and retreated from the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Genevieve nodded briskly. “She did, but she learned it from you!”

Owen felt a little jolt of pain at the words, but behind that pain he felt a flush of gratification—Evie had told her children about him. She had attributed her knowledge of the game to him.

“It’s true. I did teach her.” He shifted his gaze to Drew. “And I can teach you as well, if you’d like.”

Drew’s face beamed. “I would!” he stammered. He looked surprised by the offer since they had rarely spent time together. Owen had treated him with no special regard until recently.

He took a deep breath and then lowered his voice. “Do you miss your parents, Genevieve? Do you wish you were back in Edonburick?”

Her eyes widened with surprise. “Of course! I like visiting Kingfountain. It’s beautiful here. But the king is rude and mean and I don’t like him very much. I think what Lord Catsby is doing to the North is abhorrent!”

Owen was startled by her use of the word. “Abhorrent is a big word for such a little girl.”

“I know many big words, my lord,” she said proudly. “I’m teaching some of them to Drew.”

The boy seemed in awe of her.

“Can I ask you a question?” Genevieve asked him, her voice falling lower.

“You can ask me anything,” he answered, his face becoming graver because he suddenly knew what she was going to say.

Genevieve sidled up closer to him, her face full of honesty and childlike courage. Just like her mother’s had been at her age.

“Do you still love my mother?” she asked him.

She was so serious in her look, so trusting, that he knew he could not lie to her. Children could handle complex truths better than simplified falsehoods. He let out his breath, trying and discarding several answers before choosing one.

Finally, he gave her a wry smile. “How could anyone who knows your mother ever stop loving her?” Her smile became radiant. “Now that was a very delicate question, Genevieve Llewellyn. Let me add to my answer that while I still care for your mother, I would never do anything that would compromise or insult her in any way. We are friends. At one time, we hoped to be more, but life does not always pay us in the coin we expect.”