The Thief's Daughter (25 page)

“I do recognize you,” Owen stammered with an approving nod. “But at a distance, I’d be fooled. You’re taller than Evie, but I don’t think anyone would notice.”

“I made a few other adjustments,” Etayne said with a smirk. “I’ve done what I can.”

Owen shook his head. “No, you haven’t. You haven’t done it all. Now, I want you to try and summon Fountain magic. Here, in this room. I want you to make me believe that I’m
seeing
Evie. Like you did with Ankarette’s image from my mind. I want to know if I can see through it if I try.”

Excitement churned through Owen’s body. There were so many possibilities, so many ways that Etayne’s power could be used, and he wanted to know how deep her magic could go. She could be a formidable ally if she learned to harness her powers.

Straightening her shoulders, Etayne stared at herself in the mirror. “How do I summon the magic?”

“You did it before,” Owen said.

“Yes, but it’s not like a pump handle. Last time I was responding to you. You started it.”

Owen nodded. “After Ankarette was gone, the king became my tutor in the magic. He sometimes needs to touch someone to get his magic flowing. That’s not the way it is for me, but I learned this from him. Here, stand in front of me.”

She obeyed. He blinked a few times, trying not to be distracted by her disguise.

“This is an exercise the king taught me. Hold your arm out like this. Not stiffly. Good. Now spread out your fingers. Close your eyes and imagine . . . imagine that you have a river inside of you, yearning to come out. The waters are going to come out of your fingertips.”

“Do I touch you?” she asked, wrinkling her brow. His skin prickled in anticipation.

“No! Just . . . stand there, as you are. Sometimes it helps to close your eyes. Imagine the flow of water inside you. Release it, feel it flowing from your chest, down your arm, and out through your fingers. I’m not going to summon mine yet. I want you to instigate it this time.”

He felt sweat starting to itch along his scalp from being so near her. He subdued his emotions, trying to maintain his composure. He was loyal to Evie. But this was a part of himself he would never be able to share with her. Not like this.

“All right,” Etayne said. She closed her eyes, and he immediately felt the magic coursing through her.

“Can you feel it?”

“Yes,” she said, smiling.

“Well done. Now, I want you to use it. I want you to become Elysabeth
Victoria
Mortimer. Convince me.”

Etayne took a deep breath and let out a sigh. As she did so, Owen watched her transform before his eyes. She even looked smaller, shrinking slightly to match Evie’s stature. As Owen stared at her, he felt her magic come rushing into him, trying to persuade him that she was Evie. He
wanted
to believe it. Seeing her made his heart ache with longing. But he felt the flow of magic parting around him, making him immune to the deception. She looked like Evie. But he knew she wasn’t. His heart couldn’t be fooled.

“Open your eyes,” Owen said softly, relieved that her power was not strong enough to deceive him. It would have duped another Fountain-blessed, he was sure of it.

Etayne did so, and the magic wavered.

“Keep it going,” he insisted.

The weakness dissipated and the illusion was maintained. Owen took her shoulders and turned her around to face the mirror. To face the reflection of Evie.

“Bless me,” Etayne whispered reverently, her voice full of awe. “I can be anyone.”

“You clearly are Fountain-blessed,” Owen said in admiration. “Now, do you feel the edges of your magic? It’s like a big, vast bowl. Is it shrinking? Do you feel yourself growing weaker?”

She nodded, trancelike. “But I’m not tired yet. It is like . . . swimming. I could do this for a while, but not forever.”

“Good,” Owen said. “The last time, you only held the illusion for a moment.”

“I think it helps,” Etayne said thoughtfully, “that I put on her dress and her jewels. That I tried hard to look like her. I can feel a difference this time. I also know Lady Elysabeth better now, having spent time with her. I could speak in her voice. I could act like her.” She glanced at him in the mirror. “Did I convince you?”

Owen shook his head. “I can tell it’s not real. But that’s because I’m Fountain-blessed also. I can sense when others use the power. As you can.”

“Like when you used your power on me,” Etayne said slyly. “So what is your plan, Lord Owen?”

He stared at Etayne for a moment, feeling the final pieces click into place. “We’re going to visit Eyric. The two of us. We’re going there now.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The Ardanays

The carriage jostled and rattled, making Owen queasy. He would have preferred riding horseback, which would have brought them to the Ardanays manor at a faster pace, but the carriage was part of his plan. It was a simple bow-curtained carriage, with drapes on the front and back sides, but those drapes were open so that passersby could see the stunningly beautiful Elysabeth
Victoria
Mortimer—who was actually Etayne, the King’s Poisoner. Owen sat in the rider’s box, close enough for them to speak. A servant with a whip rode on one of the lead horses and kept the pace over the lumbering hills. The land was thick with woods and forests, and the road was made of compacted earth with the occasional ruts.

Etayne was not using her Fountain magic yet, but her disguise was convincing enough at a distance. Riding alongside the carriage were two servants, also on horseback, whom Owen had bribed to accompany them as an escort and to handle the horses. He found himself staring longingly at their mounts. He chafed with impatience as they rode into the seclusion of the forests to one of the Earl of Huntley’s manors, where the recently wedded couple were spending their holiday.

Owen’s plan was simple, and it relied on the element of surprise. Word had undoubtedly been sent ahead that Evie wanted to visit the couple with the king’s household the next day. Imagine the staff’s surprise when a smaller entourage arrived a day early. Etayne would arrange for a private meeting with Lady Kathryn, giving Owen a chance to be alone with Eyric. Though he still did not believe Eyric would accept his overtures, Owen would attempt to persuade him to come willingly to Ceredigion. Meanwhile, Etayne would incapacitate Kathryn, take one of her dresses, and then emerge in her persona. Their hope was that she could succeed where Owen would likely fail. The carriage would take them to the docks, where they would stow Eyric aboard Evie’s ship.

If Owen
was
successful in convincing Eyric, then Kathryn would be given the opportunity to come with them.

It was a bold plan. It was deceitful. And there were several dozen things that could go wrong. The closer they came to the Ardanays, the more he worried about them.

“Do you remember what Lady Kathryn looks like?” Owen whispered over his shoulder to the passenger.

“Vaguely,” Etayne said. “I’ll need to study her in order to get a grasp on her face and mannerisms. How long do you think you can keep Eyric occupied?”

“Long enough, I hope,” Owen quipped.

The whip rider turned back. “There is the manor!” he shouted, pointing ahead with the whip handle.

The evergreen trees peeled away, opening to a lush green enclave surrounded by majestic trees and lawns. Instead of fences, there were large rough stones marking the path at intervals. As the carriage cleared the trees, Owen saw an imposing stone manor house set amidst the verdant splendor. The dirt road turned to the crunch of gravel as the carriage entered the drive, heading toward a large circular roundabout in front of the main door.

The manor was made of rectangular stone bricks, in differing shades of gray, giving it a patchwork look. The roofs were all sloped, and dozens of chimneys could be seen protruding from the roofline in various locations. The structure was only two stories high but very long, with an L-shaped wing jutting toward them on the western end. There were all sorts of vegetation clinging to the walls, including an untamed patch of ivy and wisteria vines. A turret with a weathervane rose prominently over the front path, which was bordered by large stone planter vases thick with gorse plants. The structure at the far western end of the manor was almost completely overgrown with ivy. Even the chimney was sheathed in green, but the windows had been cut around to provide a view. It was a charming, secluded place with lazy plumes of smoke coming up from some but not all of the chimneys.

As the carriage wheeled around the circle, coming to a stop on the side facing the front door, Owen gingerly jumped off the rider box seat and went around to open the carriage. He felt the trickle and churn of Etayne’s magic as she assumed her full disguise.

The front door of the manor opened, and a thin, graying steward strode forward. His hair was still flecked with black, as were his eyebrows, and he had a thin, sour nose above a worried frown. His eyes were dark in color, and very serious.

Owen reached up and took Etayne’s hand as she dismounted the carriage.

The steward reached them immediately. “We were not expecting you, Lady Mortimer, until tomorrow,” he said in an agitated tone. He gave Owen a quick glance, but then shifted his gaze to Etayne.

“Tomorrow?” Etayne said blithely. “There must have been a misunderstanding. We have traveled quite far to arrive here today. Am I not welcome?”

The steward blanched. “Of course you are, Lady Mortimer!” he said. “I was just noting my surprise at seeing you so soon. My name is Lawson and I will attend you.”

“My name is Elysabeth
Victoria
Mortimer,” Etayne said sweetly. “Lady Mortimer is my mother.”

“Ah, my apologies. Welcome to the Ardanays!” He smiled, but the furrowed brow and intense look did not alter. He was extremely nervous, and Owen suspected it was not just because he was unprepared to receive visitors.

“If you will follow me,” Lawson said with a stiff bow, and proceeded to walk briskly back to the doors. Etayne glanced at Owen, a small frown of distrust on her mouth.

Owen felt the shifting of the gravel under his boots. He turned to the hired men, who had also dismounted. “Make the carriage ready,” he ordered softly. “Then rove the grounds in case you’re needed.”

The men nodded, and they began guiding the carriage around so it was ready to depart the way it had come.

Owen followed Etayne and Lawson.

The manor was furnished more decadently than Iago Llewellyn’s palace. It was obvious the Earl of Huntley had far more extraneous wealth than his sovereign. There were servants rushing to and fro, looking nervous about the commotion, but Owen saw half a dozen, no more. The manor was much smaller than Tatton Hall and Owen imagined the staff was smaller as well.

“How was the journey from Edonburick?” Lawson asked over his shoulder.

“Pleasant,” Etayne said simply, keeping her answer short and to the point.

The steward steered them to the right, and they were quickly guided to a waxed wood door. He rapped on it firmly and then twisted the handles.

It was a beautiful sitting room, with luxurious furniture and a huge bay window partially blocked by overhanging wisteria. The window curtains were open, filling the room with light. Eyric and Kathryn were already there, waiting for them.

Eyric wore a simple hunting tunic, the collar loose. He was not armed, for which Owen was grateful. He paced nervously, his hair unkempt. When they entered, his attention was fixated on Etayne, but there was nothing in his eyes to indicate he could see through the illusion.

“Lady Elysabeth,” Eyric said with a bow. “May I introduce you to my wife, Lady Kathryn?”

Etayne did a formal curtsy, which was reciprocated by Lady Kathryn, who also bowed her head as if deferring to one of superior rank, even though they were both the daughters of earls.

Kathryn was no longer wearing a headdress. She had a beautiful green gown, modestly cut, and was not wearing any jewelry save for a wedding band on her finger and a simple set of earrings. Her hair, Owen discovered, was chestnut red. Her lack of a headdress was another clue that their arrival had surprised the couple. Her hair was braided into rings on the back of her head, but stray wisps fell across her brow.

Kathryn was a beauty, as the reports had said, but there was no trace of haughtiness in her expression. Her eyes were hazel and innocent, and he knew without extending his power that she had had a very sheltered childhood and life. Her lips were full and almost hinted at sadness. As she looked at her guests, her brows wrinkled just slightly, showing concern.

“The pleasure is mine, Lady Elysabeth,” Kathryn said in a soft, quiet way. “You honor us with your visit.”

“I am sorry for the misunderstanding,” Etayne said airily. “I do not know how it happened, but such things do, I’m afraid.”

“May I bring refreshments?” Lawson asked, looking at Lady Kathryn for direction. Owen noticed the subtle deference.

Kathryn nodded simply, and the steward left, shutting the doors behind him.

“While we are surprised by your sudden arrival,” Kathryn said, “it is not unwelcome. This manor was a wedding gift. From my father. It is our new home.” She smiled shyly at Eyric, who looked at her with adoring eyes. He walked up and took her hand, then brought it up to kiss her knuckles.

“I imagine you came here to threaten me,” Eyric said to Etayne, his face darkening. “If that is your purpose, you wasted your trip.”

Etayne smiled coyly. “Not at all. We have much to discuss, actually. But I’m afraid I must beg a moment alone with Lady Kathryn.” Her voice pitched a little lower. “Along the journey, a most womanly matter suddenly presented itself and caught me by surprise. I must beg your help, Lady Kathryn.”

Owen nearly smirked, but managed to keep his gaze neutral.

Lady Kathryn looked sympathetic. “My poor dear, of course. Come with me.”

Eyric looked at his wife for a moment, but then smiled in understanding. “Clearly certain
matters
are of greater importance. I’ll await you here, my love.”

Kathryn and Etayne linked arms, their skirts swishing as they went to the door. Kathryn looked back at Eyric, gave him an endearing, tender look, and then escorted Etayne away. As the door shut, Owen could not believe how well his plan was working. Would all the pieces fall where he’d arranged them?

Eyric stared after her for a moment longer, looking absolutely besotted. He sighed and clasped his hands behind his back. He glanced at Owen, though he only saw him as a knight, an escort. No one of importance. Certainly no one worth conversing with.

“My congratulations on your marriage, my lord,” Owen said innocuously.

Eyric started to pace again, the look of love beginning to fade into one of worry. He had a careworn look, the face of one who was hunted and weary of the chase. He was strong, young, and very good-looking. There was no doubt in Owen’s mind that Kathryn was already as much in love with her husband as he was in love with her.

Eyric glanced at him again. “Thank you,” he said absently, his brow furrowing.

Owen slowly sauntered over to the window, looking out at the grounds below. It was a beautiful scene, and the puffy clouds made it even more idyllic. The trees swayed in the gentle breeze. He could smell the wisteria through chinks in the panes. Then he saw one of the men he’d hired walking around the manor, surveying the grounds. The man looked at Owen as he passed, and nodded to him discreetly. Owen smiled and nodded back.

“Do you know what Lady Elysabeth wants?” Eyric asked. “Not that you’ll tell me, being her loyal servant.”

“I’m not her servant,” Owen said, gazing at the beauty of the trees. There were only a few years separating him from Eyric, but Owen felt the other man was much older. Though both had suffered, Eyric’s life experiences had been even more painful.

Eyric’s head snapped up. A wary look crinkled his eyes. “Who are you then? Are you . . . are you a poisoner?” His voice nearly throbbed with fear as he suddenly realized he was alone—and defenseless—with an armed man.

Owen gently reached out with his magic, letting the flow of the Fountain rise out of him. He studied Eyric, looking for weaknesses, and he saw him exposed like the words in a book. The deposed prince was a kindhearted man. He was clumsy with a sword, having never been properly trained. But his whole soul was riddled with fear, and it reminded Owen, darkly, of himself. Eyric was constantly aware of the threat of being caught. He was afraid of Owen, afraid a simple knight would be able to defeat him. He was afraid he would not be able to protect his wife.

“I am not your enemy,” Owen said, shaking his head. He remembered something Ankarette had taught him. It was risky, but he decided to try it. If Eyric was terrified, he would not think calmly or rationally. Owen needed to try to dispel his fear and build trust with the young man. The fastest way to build trust was to be vulnerable.

“Who are you?” Eyric said, a little throb of panic in his voice. He glanced at the door, the expression on his face indicating he was deciding whether to escape.

Owen brought down the chain hood, freeing his mass of unruly hair. “You’ve been away from court too long to recognize me. I am Owen Kiskaddon.”

Eyric gasped, whistling in his breath as if he’d been struck. “You’re . . . you’re Fountain-blessed!” He was starting to pant.

“I am,” Owen said. “And you are not. I can sense that about you.”

“Does Iago know? I don’t think he does. He would have
told
me!”

“If Iago knew who I was, I’d probably be his prisoner,” Owen replied candidly. “I’m trusting you with my secret. In return, I’d like for you to trust me. Tell me who you are. Do not lie to me. I will know it if you are,” he added meaningfully. He was confident that Eyric was who he claimed to be, but the truth was so important he wanted confirmation from the man himself.