The King's Traitor (Kingfountain #3)(91)
The king departed with a dozen men, leaving six behind to watch Owen die.
He was taken to the very boulder where they’d chained the Maid of Donremy, and his cuffs were attached to the iron rings fastened there. His legs trembled as he stared at the torture of the flames. The wind keened through his thin shirt.
“Good luck, Evie,” he whispered through clenched teeth.
He decided to stare at the flames awhile, to imagine what it would be like to cup his hands over them. In his mind, he thought back to his time in Dundrennan as a child, sitting before the raging hearth, his knees touching Evie’s as they talked and played together. From this vantage point, he could see the valley so far below, see the smoke billowing from many chimneys to feed the clouds in the sky. Perhaps it would be the last thing he ever saw.
Then, from behind the gathered soldiers, part of the snowbank seemed to . . . lift. The soldiers hidden there beneath snow-covered canopies stole from their hiding places and fell on Severn’s guards with brutal efficiency, killing all six before a single one could cry out in warning or pain.
Two men wrapped in thick furs trudged through the snow toward Owen. As they unwound the scarves covering their faces, Owen’s heart began to hammer again. Sparks of renewed hope began to fly.
The first man he recognized was the Espion Clark, whose life he had saved at Wizr Falls in Atabyrion. Clark was normally very stoic, but he betrayed himself with a crooked little smile.
The second man under the hood and wrappings was Evie’s husband, the King of Atabyrion.
“You look a little chilly, my lord,” Iago said triumphantly in his native brogue. “I think we can spare you a jacket and boots, eh?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Carrick
Snow sloughed off Owen’s cloak as he dismounted in the castle bailey of Dundrennan. The boots covering his frozen feet had helped ease his discomfort, but he still felt leaden and stiff. Even so, his heart was full of fire and emotion for his rescuers. A few dogs barked in greeting as the doors of the keep opened and Elysabeth rushed out into the slushy ice, a wool blanket draped around her shoulders. She embraced her husband, giving him a passionate kiss on the mouth, and then rushed over to fling her arms around Owen’s neck.
“You’re safe,” she breathed in his ear before pulling back and staring at him with a jubilant grin. Her eyes were very green at that moment, and he found himself beaming back at her.
“Thanks to you,” he replied sincerely, still bedazzled by his unexpected reprieve.
Evie shook her head, and only then did Owen notice the other man approaching them. It was a sheepish-looking Kevan Amrein. He held out the scabbard with the raven insignia on it, offering it to Owen.
Owen felt another flush of warmth in his heart, and his throat suddenly felt thick as he stared at his old friend. “It was your doing?” he said.
Kevan looked abashed. “I’ve known you were plotting something for quite some time, my lord,” he said. “I thought it strange you kept bringing Eyric books. I had them snatched while he slept and learned to read the love notes he shared with Lady Kathryn. I’ve tried in many delicate ways to show you I was on your side. When the king finds out I too have rebelled against him, I will need another job. If you’ll have me.”
Owen started to laugh. The sound just came bubbling out of him. He took the scabbard with one hand and then pulled Kevan into a hug and clapped him hard on the back. “Have you?” he chuckled. “I have a feeling that stopping my execution is only part of your plan.”
Owen noticed Clark and Iago had drawn close to them. He glanced from face to face, each full of courage and determination. A feeling of profound relief flooded him. He was not alone in trying to bring down Severn. He never had been.
“Must we have this council in the middle of the freezing bailey?” Iago drawled. “Best to move it to the solar?”
Elysabeth nodded with encouragement. “The cold normally doesn’t bother me, but tonight it’s excessively cold.”
Together they tromped their way back into the castle, where the flames from the hearth and torches forced back the chilly winter air. The castle was crowded with soldiers wearing the badge of the Pierced Lion and there were servants everywhere, bringing food and drink to satisfy those who had hunkered down inside the walls. The commotion abated when they reached the solar, but Owen didn’t mind the stares. His hope had been restored to him. He belted the scabbard around his waist and instantly felt the magic begin to work through him, warming his frozen extremities and mending the festering wounds from his ordeal with Bothwell.
Owen stood by the hearth, staring down at the huge cedar logs nested amidst the coals, and savoring the warmth. The others entered, and he watched as Iago slouched into the duke’s old chair, quite comfortably, and accepted a flagon of wine from his wife. When Evie stroked Iago’s shoulder tenderly, and he smiled up at her, the evidence of their mutual affection made Owen’s heart clench, but this time the feeling was a little different, a little less covetous. He found himself wishing Sinia were here to enjoy the reprieve with him.
Turning his back to the fire, he faced his allies. Kevan and Clark were speaking in low tones with each other, but they both fell silent when they saw Owen looking at them.
“First, I must thank you all,” Owen said, shaking his head. “I was not looking forward to spending the night chained to Helvellyn. I’m not talented at these kinds of speeches, but my heart compels me to speak the gratitude I feel. Thank you all, again.” He folded his arms and began to pace, dropping into the familiar habit. Ripples of Fountain magic added to his warmth as he began to sort through their situation as he would the first blocks of one of his tile structures. “Kevan—how did you arrange this?”