The King's Traitor (Kingfountain #3)(82)
The thief’s daughter cupped Owen’s cheeks tenderly, and he felt her magic swell as wide as the moon’s glow. She bowed her head, her mouth hovering just above his.
“Nesh-ama,” she whispered. Breathe.
And then she kissed him.
Etayne had been present when he used the magic to save Justine’s life. Her kiss was not as tender.
The tug on Owen’s soul reversed, and suddenly he was falling, a sheet of light blinding him as he tumbled back into his body and his chest filled with air and life. His back arched with pain, for his wounds were brought back to life as well. He felt her mouth on his, and he could taste the poison there.
No!
The realization struck him like an iron hammer on an anvil. His eyes blinked open and he could see the tears of happiness streaking down her face. He sensed her magic was completely spent. She had used it all to save him. Her lids began to droop. She clutched his hand and then fell next to him.
The raven sigil on the scabbard started to glow, and he felt the magic work on him once again. He was so weak he couldn’t move at all, he could only breathe and stare into her eyes. He saw the wet poison on her lips.
She looked peaceful.
He tried to sit up, but the pain racking his body prevented any such movement. “No, Etayne! No!” he croaked.
Her face looked like a child about to fall asleep. “I knew I would die of love,” she whispered faintly. “You could never be mine.” Her hand lifted weakly, and she stroked the white tuft of hair amidst his thick locks.
Memories of Ankarette’s death slammed into Owen, and he thought his heart would burst if he lost this other friend, this other protector. He reached out and touched the side of Etayne’s face, grazing the skin with his fingers. Her eyes closed and a pleased smile spread across her face. “At last,” she whispered.
“Etayne,” Owen said in a broken voice as he watched the first convulsions start to twitch in her body. Her face went pale, but she didn’t fight the poison. Owen thought the pain in his heart would kill him. He had no magic left himself. His well was absolutely void. If he could have traded places with her, he would have done so in an instant.
The poisoner’s lips parted. There was no reproach in her eyes. No regret. “She’s better for you,” she whispered. “I see it even if I have not admitted it to you. I envy Sinia.”
The eyes opened with panic as a tremor of pain rocked through her. “Good-bye, my love,” Etayne breathed, and said no more.
Owen watched helplessly as his best friend died in front of him.
Dear Owen,
I have sent this note by way of the Duchess of Brythonica, who has assured me it will reach you swiftly and beyond the notice of the Espion. I am grateful to have Genevieve back, and she tells me that you literally saved her life. Children are prone to exaggeration, but if her tale is true, I owe you more than I can ever repay. You have my trust and allegiance. By the time you receive this, our invasion of the North will be underway. We plan to rally the people by striking at the heart of my rightful lands. Thanks to your cleverness, we can depose Severn with little bloodshed. That is my hope. I cannot take this step without great pain of heart and conflict in my soul. Were you not the one instigating it, I would never have dared. Iago bids me tell you that we will both be landing in the North. We’ve entrusted our children to faithful allies here, including Earl of Huntley, who longs to see his daughter again. The injustices we have all suffered under the hands of King Severn may hopefully come to an end.
Yours with loyalty,
Elysabeth Victoria Mortimer Llewellyn Queen of Atabyrion
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Raven’s Feast
Owen walked with a pronounced limp down the torch-lit corridor, but the sight of his shadow on the wall made him stop and stare. His bandaged arm was clenched to his side, and his posture looked strikingly similar to that of a young Severn Argentine. Dread knifed through him as he stood silently in the walkway, still staring at the shadow.
Thanks to the scabbard, his injuries were healing quickly and the court doctors were amazed that he was already out of his bed after losing so much blood. Owen chafed with impatience, hating the coddling and disgusting drafts the doctors had made him drink. He had been abed for nearly a full day before insisting he be released.
The drama had shocked the entire court. A poisoner from Occitania had somehow managed to infiltrate the castle and attempt to murder the head of the Espion and his chief lieutenant. Both had survived, but the king’s own poisoner had been murdered. Only Owen knew the full truth, and he was keeping the facts to himself. He had warned the king that Dragan was behind the plot. The manhunt for the thief had become pressing in its intensity, but no one had seen him. Nor could they.
Owen started walking again, gritting his teeth against the pain roiling throughout his body. Etayne’s body was going to be set loose in the river that morning, and Owen was determined to be there to pay his last respects to the woman who had given her life for his. It was painful to think about her, and he knew it was a wound that would never fully heal. She had spent most of their years together nursing an unrequited love for him, and it saddened him that she had only found happiness in her final act of self-sacrifice. Tears threatened him, and he could not help but wonder if he was cursed to spend his life alone. Perhaps Sinia too would be ripped away from him.