The Thief's Daughter (24 page)

As if hearing Owen’s private thoughts, the lord marshal turned to look his way. His eyebrows lifted, just slightly, and a look of recognition came into his eyes.

Hello, Lord Marshal
,
Owen said through his Fountain magic, gritting his teeth for not having acted sooner.

And he had the sinking suspicion that Roux had once again outmaneuvered him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Lord Marshal

Owen’s stomach tightened into knots as he wondered whether the lord marshal would betray him to Iago. The king would be embarrassed and likely furious if he found out that Owen Kiskaddon was masquerading as one of Evie’s protectors. Even more concerning was the marshal’s presence in Atabyrion. What fate had brought Owen and Roux together again?

“Welcome to Edonburick, my lord,” Iago Llewellyn said with a smug look. “I pray there were no sudden storms?”

“The only storm,” Marshal Roux said with a firm, aggravated tone, “is the one you are about to call down upon yourself.” He bowed stiffly as he reached the dais. With a casual nod, he bowed again to Evie.

“Have you met Lady Mortimer before?” Iago asked. “Shall I introduce you?”

“I have not had the pleasure of meeting Lady Mortimer’s
daughter
until now,” Roux replied with a subtle acknowledgment. “My lady, I bid you greetings from Lady Sinia, Duchess of Brythonica. I noticed, by your lack of a headdress, that you were not from Atabyrion.”

“Indeed no, sir,” Evie replied warily. “I have heard much about you.”

“No doubt from Lord Kiskaddon,” Roux replied with a shrewd look at her. “My compliments to the duke. I came this way, on my lady’s orders, to speak to King Iago.”

“Speak then, man,” Iago said, frowning. “I mean to convince Lady Elysabeth to go hawking with me later. Would you care to join us?”

“I will be returning promptly to Brythonica,” Roux said. “I’ve no time for such frivolity. We’re on the brink of war, my lord. I have come to bid you to reconsider your allegiances.”

Iago’s frown deepened. “As did Lady Mortimer before you,” he said with concern. “I believe I’ve been sufficiently
cautioned
, my lord. I’m surprised you took the trouble to come so far.”

Roux stepped forward, his voice earnest. “You awaken a sleeping wolf,” he insisted. “And a winter one at that. You know about the wolf in winter, my lord. It’s easy to be brave when it is afar. But when you see its ears and hear its growling, you may feel differently.”

Iago waved in annoyance. “I thought Severn’s badge was a boar, not a wolf. A boar is the prey that
fears
the hunting dogs. Besides, a beast may howl, snort, or moan, but that does not mean I should fear it.”

Evie’s eyes burned green. “The King of Ceredigion is not a beast. I object to such talk.”

“It’s only a saying,” Iago said calmly.

Owen stared at Lord Roux, his senses heightened to detect any glimmer of the Fountain’s magic. He sensed nothing but the growing tension in the hall.

“I beg your pardon, my lady,” Lord Roux said formally. “A poor choice of words on my part.” He returned his focus to Iago. “If you invade Ceredigion, then you will be facing Brythonica as well. My lady’s recent escape from Chatriyon’s ambitions will not be forgotten so quickly. We stand ready to support King Severn.”

Owen felt a surge of gratitude and respect for the marshal, but it was tempered by lingering wariness.

Iago scowled, his face flushing with anger. “Have a care, sir, about making more enemies. We both know that you won’t leave Brythonica defenseless, not while Chatriyon is still licking his wounds. Kiskaddon may have outmaneuvered the Occitanians once, but when Chatriyon brings the full might of his kingdom to bear, the Duke of Westmarch will find his little tricks to no avail.”

Lord Roux actually smiled. And it was a smile like a wolf’s. “I think you and Chatriyon underestimate the duke’s cunning,” he said. “And his abilities.”

“I know how to kill a Fountain-blessed,” Iago said threateningly. When he heard Evie gasp, he looked at her with mortification. “My lady, that was spoken rashly.”

“Indeed, sir,” Evie said, her voice trembling with anger. She had color in her cheeks. “What is it about men? Cease all this blustering,” she said, shaking her head. “Let me speak the truth here, for none of you will. My lord of Atabyrion. I can see why Lady Sinia sent Lord Roux to speak to you. He is a seasoned battle commander who has experienced the world and has successfully defended Brythonica despite substantial odds against him. You should hearken to his counsel. You are young and you are impetuous. I do not mean to offend you, my lord. You long to prove yourself in battle. The King of Occitania holds that same desire. You seek the glory and honor of the kings of the past, who won great renown on the battlefield. But think of the lives lost. Think of the suffering mothers and children who will lose their sons and their brothers. You play Wizr, but your side only has half of its pieces. You will lose.”

Iago stared at her, his brow knitting with consternation. “What you say is true, my lady,” he said with some emotion in his voice. Owen thought it was defensiveness. “I am impetuous, true, but fortune favors the bold. And you are correct in your reckoning that Atabyrion cannot face the full might of Ceredigion. But you will also recall that the game
ends
when the king is defeated, no matter how many pieces are left on the board. The true king of Ceredigion is my friend, my companion, and my ally. It is no crime to restore the rightful ruler to his throne. Then all the other pieces will obey him.”

Iago’s lips were trembling with anger as he turned his gaze back to Roux. “I am sorry you came all this way, Lord Marshal, to fail in your mission. I would suggest to the duchess that she reconsider
her
position. She’s spurned the one man who could have made her a queen. And when Ceredigion is defeated, there will be no one left to protect Brythonica. You may suggest that
her
alliances are the weaker ones. Now, I intend to go hawking. You may go.”

Lord Roux bowed stiffly, his face impassive. He turned to Evie. “Thank you for your candor, my lady. I would have a moment of your time before I leave?”

“Yes, my lord,” Evie replied.

Iago snorted and turned away to a servant. “Fetch my horse. This hall is stifling.”

In the commotion that followed, Owen noticed that many of the Atabyrions were looking darkly at the foreigners, their eyes full of anger and resentment. They wanted war. They wanted to fight. It would take more than words to dissuade them.

Evie motioned for Owen to join her and Lord Roux in a small alcove to the side.

The marshal’s tone was deliberately low. “You risk a great deal being here, my lord,” he said, though his eyes were still fixed on Evie’s. “You do not lack for courage.”

“Thank you,” Owen said in reply.

“I appreciate you coming to try and help,” Evie said. “I see the minds of the Atabyrions are fixed on conflict.”

“There’s a saying. He who complies against his will is of his own opinion still,” Lord Roux said. “I’ve found that true in mules and men. My lady, I must warn you. And in so doing, warn your king. I fear that dishonorable means will be employed to remove Severn from power. One does not hazard the misfortunes of war without some hope of success. With my fleet, I could burn this city to ashes and still have time to return and defend Brythonica. Iago Llewellyn does not realize how vulnerable he truly is if events turn out badly, as I believe they will. They underestimate Severn and his resources. Do not make the mistake of underestimating their desperation to be rid of him.”

Owen sensed the implied meaning behind his words. “You believe there is a conspiracy to murder the king.”

Lord Roux glanced quickly at Owen. “I do, although I have no proof.”

“You have proven a faithful ally,” Evie said. “I think it is time we departed Atabyrion. My mission here has failed.”

Lord Roux looked at her and then at Owen. There was something in his eyes. Something he was not saying. Something he
wouldn’t
say. “By your leave then,” he said gruffly. And with that, he was gone.

Owen wondered what sort of weaknesses this man had. But he dared not use his Fountain magic in such an open place. Not only would it reveal himself to Roux, it would drain him again, and he could not risk that. Owen suspected gratitude wasn’t the only motivation behind Brythonica’s support of Ceredigion.

There was another part of the mission that was unfinished however. Just as Chatriyon was using a poisoner to overthrow Severn in preparation for Eyric’s arrival, so was Severn intending to do the same thing with his enemy. He felt his mouth go dry. It was clear to him that Eyric had to be removed from the Wizr board, but he did not want to kill him. Besides, Severn had given him reason to believe he would not want his true nephew dead. If they were able to abduct Eyric and bring him back to Ceredigion, the balance of power would shift. Owen did not believe they could persuade him to come willingly.

And then a thought came to Owen’s mind, a flash of insight. A strategy.

“My lady,” Owen said to Evie in a low voice. “I have an idea.”

“I’m anxious to hear it,” she replied.

Owen saw the pieces coming together in his mind. The order of events that needed to happen. The way the tiles needed to stack in order for them to fall as he planned. “I would like you to ask Iago for permission to see Eyric Argentine.”

“What for?” Evie asked, looking startled.

“To test his claims. Tell him you were given facts and details about his childhood. You would like to visit him tomorrow. I think he’ll grant that request if he sends an escort with you.”

“And what will you do?” Evie asked.

He smiled. “Etayne and I must get to him first.”

Owen paced nervously, wishing Clark were still around. He did not like leaving Evie unprotected. She and Justine were walking the grounds, waiting for Iago to return from his hawking trip. Owen and Etayne were together in Evie’s room, where they were working on their side of the plan.

He heard the rustle of fabric from behind the changing screen as he continued to pace the room. The swirling events around him were like tide pools threatening to knock him off his feet with another wave. He was eager to be done with the role of imposter, eager to resume his identity and take action. Chatriyon was using Iago to use Eyric to topple Ceredigion’s throne. But Chatriyon’s goal was to claim the throne for himself through marriage to Elyse. Owen saw the pieces aligning on the board. Iago was vain and proud, but he did not see the machinations happening in the background. Just as Owen realized there were some pieces on the board that
he
was not seeing.

“I’m almost finished,” Etayne said. A few moments later, she emerged from the changing screen wearing one of Evie’s gowns and a set of her jewelry. For an instant, seeing her wearing Evie’s clothes made his heart quicken with desire. Oblivious to his gawking, she made her way to the small dresser topped with a mirror. Next to the dresser was a trunk—one of Etayne’s. The King’s Poisoner opened the trunk and began to rummage through it until she found what she needed, a dark brown wig. She had already removed the one she wore regularly, the long blond one, and she replaced it with the dark one. Looking at herself in the mirror, Etayne began to apply powders and stubs of charcoal to her face. Owen watched with growing fascination as she dabbed color to her lips and cheeks, transforming before his eyes. He could
feel
the ripples of the Fountain draw into the girl, increasing in intensity as she became lost in the moment. Etayne’s movements became more dreamlike as she stared at herself, applying little dots to mimic the blemishes and blots that were on Evie’s skin. After a time, she seemed to be acting unconsciously, and Owen could sense her losing herself in the act of disguise. It was the same feeling Owen had while stacking his tiles. It was fascinating and—honestly—more than a bit alluring to watch her transform. He forced the thoughts from his mind, trying to stay focused on their upcoming mission together.

She finished the last bit of color and then began mimicking Evie’s expressions. Her eyes became animated and her hands began their almost-flapping gestures of excitement. “I love what you’ve done with your hair, Justine,” Etayne said, her voice sounding hauntingly like Evie’s, her tone and inflection matching. “I think mine is too drab. I wish I had a spot of white, right here, like Owen’s. But alas, we cannot all have such dashing good looks.” She grinned mischievously, looking at Owen in the mirror. He’d been staring too much, and she’d caught him at it.