The Queen's Poisoner (The Kingfountain Series Book 1) (14 page)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Ankarette’s Stratagem

Elysabeth Victoria Mortimer’s first breakfast with the king went surprisingly well, much to Owen’s chagrin. He had wondered how she would take his taunts and temper. She was absolutely fearless. That was the only word to properly describe her. She loved the idea of picking from all the dishes and gobbled up a hearty breakfast while still managing to talk between mouthfuls. She was eager to meet the king and suggested, rather boldly, that he needed to put a large fountain in the great hall, one with glass walls, and fill it with giant fish so that they could watch them swim while they ate.

Owen was not certain how the king would react to her demands. King Severn looked at her with half annoyance, half amusement and offered her a view of the royal fish pond to placate her. She agreed enthusiastically and rushed over to Owen to share the good news.

In truth, Elysabeth Victoria Mortimer seemed as comfortable in the great hall as if she had lived there her entire life. She wore a new dress. Each day she had a new one. This one was black and silver. Owen stared at her with budding respect, but it frustrated him that he did not share her courage. Why must strangers always leave him so tongue-tied and ashamed? He had always been that way and did not know why.

“And what do
you
think, Master Owen?” the king suddenly said at his ear. “Do you want the hall full of fish?”

Owen’s muscles locked up and he felt a coldness shoot through him at being caught off guard. A pit of fear opened up inside him, swallowing everything before it. He could not even stammer a reply. He was powerless to say anything.

The king snorted and then walked away, unsheathing and jamming his dagger as he went.

Owen felt his knees start to buckle and the urge to cry was almost overpowering. Feeling humiliated, he cast his eyes down. Someone approached and he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and saw Duke Horwath looking at him sympathetically. He did not say anything, but his touch was comforting. Then he walked after the king and began speaking to him in a low voice. Owen could not hear their discussion, but he could have sworn he heard the duke say “Tatton Hall” before they were both out of earshot.

Later in the afternoon, Owen was building with his tiles, constructing a tower that was taller than those he usually made. It had tumbled a few times, annoying him, but he continued to work on it. Elysabeth Victoria Mortimer lay on her stomach, playing with several pieces of tile and talking about something to which Owen did not pay much mind as he concentrated on the tower. The kitchen bustled pleasantly, and he could smell the delightful fragrance of a pie cooking in the ovens, making his mouth water. Liona made the best crusts he had ever tasted, and he had been tempted more than once to eat the ring of crispy dough without touching the middle part.

“Well?” the Mortimer girl asked again, and Owen glanced over at where she lay looking up at him. He had started calling her the Mortimer girl in his mind because her name was so long.

He was a little annoyed that she now expected a partner in the conversation. She had been doing so well at it by herself. “What?” he asked.

“When we get
married
, do you want to live in the North or in the West?”

He stared at her in shock. “We’re getting married?”

“Of course we are. I think we should live in the North. I love the snow. There are mountains, Owen, mountains so huge they block out the sun until midday. There is always snow up there. There are canyons and rivers and waterfalls.” She sighed dreamily. “The North is the best place in the world. I would live in the West, if you insisted. But I would be sad.”

“
Why
are we getting married?”

She set down the tiles. “You have to get married
someday
, Owen. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I know that, but . . .”

“Everyone has to get married. Even the
king
got married, all bent as he is. His wife was from the North, you know, and she was
lovely
. I’m so sad she died. She used to braid my hair. The prince was ten when he died of a fever. That’s only two years older than us. I thought I might marry
him
someday.” She shook her head. “I like you better.”

“But . . .”

“Really, Owen Kiskaddon, it’s not difficult to answer! The North or the West? You must learn to make decisions. I think we’ll live in the North first, and then the West. That way, you can choose which you like better. I think I’ll always like the North better. But I haven’t lived in the West before.” There was a dreamy look in her strange-colored eyes as she gazed at the tiles spread out on the floor in front of her. In the light, they were looking greener. It’s like they had started off deciding to be blue, then changed their mind and turned gray, and then switched to green just at the very end, around the fringe of her inky black pupils. That was so like her!

“I’m not getting married,” Owen said forcefully.

She set down the tiles and looked at him. “Everyone gets married.”

“The prince didn’t. He died.”

“You’re not going to die, Owen. The prince was always coughing. I’ve never heard you cough. You’re not sickly at all.”

Ankarette’s potions had been helping him breathe better. But he knew something the Mortimer girl didn’t. Owen looked down at his lap. “The king wants to kill me.”

She sat up quickly, her face growing pale with concern. “No, he doesn’t. That’s the silliest thought I ever heard.”

Owen was feeling hot again, his ears burning. She was looking at him with concern and sympathy. She edged closer. “Why would you think something like that?” she whispered.

“I’m his hostage,” Owen replied darkly. “That’s why I’m here. If my parents do anything to spite him, he’s going to kill me. He killed my brother already. It’s true.”

All the happiness drained from her face. In its place came an implacable anger. “Well, I won’t let him do it. I think that’s silly. No one kills a little child.”

Owen was feeling a little annoyed. “He already has,” he mumbled.

“What did you say?” she demanded.

“He has. Everyone knows about it. His brother had two sons. They were hostages, too. He killed them.”

“It’s not true,” she said angrily. “Not everything that’s whispered is true, Owen.” She reached out and seized his hand, her fingers digging into his flesh. “Don’t believe the lies.”

Owen gave her a challenging look. “Your grandpapa knows.” He glanced around the kitchen, a dark, brooding feeling enveloping him. “None of us are safe here.”

Elysabeth Victoria Mortimer stood and marched out of the kitchen, tossing her dark hair back over her shoulder.

Owen was glad she was gone. Mostly.

In the middle of the night, Owen was playing Wizr with Ankarette in the poisoner’s tower and telling her everything he could about the castle’s newest guest, the duke’s outspoken granddaughter. Ankarette liked to talk as they played the game, which forced him to speak and think at the same time.

“I don’t want to marry the Mortimer girl,” Owen said, blocking one of Ankarette’s attacks.

“She has decided opinions about many things,” Ankarette said, with a hint of amusement in her voice. “It’s a trait of those from the North. They tend to be outspoken.”

“Her grandfather isn’t,” Owen said glumly. “He never talks at all.” He grimaced when he realized her next move threatened him in two places at once. Since he would lose a piece regardless, he decided to sacrifice the lesser one. But he stopped himself before he made the move. Instead of responding to the threat, he positioned one of his pieces to threaten another one of hers.

“Well done, Owen,” she praised. “Counter a threat with a threat. An excellent strategy. Horwath is loyal. He’s not as outspoken here at court because this isn’t his power base. If you were with him up in the North, there’s a chance he would come across differently.”

“That’s where she says we’re going to live when we get married,” Owen said bleakly. He looked up at her face. “Can she force me to marry her?”

Ankarette pursed her lips. “No, Owen. It’s normal for girls to think about marriage. She really won’t have much choice in the matter at all. Girls seldom do.”

That gave him some relief. It’s not that he didn’t
like
the Mortimer girl. But he thought it strange that she was so convinced it was going to happen when they had only just met.

“She is brave,” Owen said, responding to her move to block him. Her next move won her the game. He loved Wizr and all the possibilities each game possessed. Even though he’d lost, Ankarette’s praise had put him in a good mood, making him feel more generous toward the newcomer.

“She sounds like it. A fish pond in the great hall. What an amusing idea.”

Owen helped to stack the pieces again in order. He liked doing that part almost as much as playing the game. There was something about the beginning of a Wizr game, when all the pieces were lined up properly. The world felt . . .
better
.

When he was done, he looked at Ankarette, watching the soft light of the candle play against her pretty face. “Do you think I should trust her?” he asked.

Ankarette considered it thoughtfully. “It’s too soon to tell,” she answered after a lengthy pause.

Owen thought so too. He had not known her long enough yet. Besides, sharing a secret with someone who so loved to talk would be risky. Owen said as much to Ankarette.

She shook her head. “Just because she talks more than you do, doesn’t mean she can’t be trusted. She just has a different personality. The question is whether she is trustworthy. And that, my dear Owen, will be determined over time. Who do you think her first loyalty is to?”

Owen perked up. “Her grandfather.”

“And who is her grandfather’s first loyalty to?” she asked, giving him a knowing smile.

Owen frowned. “The king.”

“Best to keep that in mind then, Owen.”

“Did the king kill his nephews?” he asked.

Ankarette looked at the floor. “I don’t really think so,” she answered. “But I was far away when it happened.”

“But everyone says . . .” She lifted her gaze to meet his eyes, and his voice trailed off. He swallowed. “But everyone says he did it, so it must be true.”

Ankarette smiled, but it wasn’t a pleased smile. It was almost a smile of pain. “It’s been my experience, Owen, that when everyone agrees on some point of fact, it tends to be the biggest deception of all.” She reached out and tousled his hair. “Remember that. Never trust another person to do your thinking for you.”

That sounded a little strange to Owen, but he accepted it.

“Do you have a plan yet, Ankarette?”

Her eyebrows lifted. “A plan to save you?”

He nodded eagerly.

She smoothed her skirts, sitting on her knees before him. The jewels of her necklace glimmered in the candlelight. He leaned forward a little, eagerly watching her face.

“I do have a little
stratagem
,” she confided.

“What is that? Is it a new necklace?”

She laughed softly. “No, it’s not a gem . . . well, in a way it is. It’s a gem of an idea. A jewel of a thought. Rough, uncut, and unpolished. But all good ideas start out that way.”

“Will you tell me?”

“I need to be careful, Owen. New ideas are delicate. They can be crushed easily. New ideas can be killed by a sneer or a yawn . . . or even a frown.”

Owen was not sure what she meant by that. Perhaps reading his expression, she said, “Have you ever seen a seedling grow? A new flower? They are so small and delicate, but they become sturdier as they grow. The easiest time to pluck a weed is when it is little. New ideas can be that way.”

“I see,” Owen said. He was a little disappointed because he wanted to hear her plan, unfinished as it was.

“Let me tell you what I can,” she said, assuaging him. “When you want to accomplish something, you should start out with what you want to achieve and then work backward. Staying alive isn’t the goal. What I want to do is change the king’s
feelings
about you. He won’t want to destroy you if he thinks you are valuable. Like a gem.”