Warrior's Ransom (The First Argentines #2) - Jeff Wheeler Page 0,103

It’s the only thing that soothes my stomach.”

“Very well, Father,” said the prince, and he started off. His fashionable clothes and the dagger dangling from his belt looked out of place when war loomed so close.

The king shook his head and turned to gaze at Ransom. “How is Constance?”

“She’s grieving,” said Ransom. “Sir Terencourt died rescuing me. I promised her that I would protect her son’s life.”

“My only grandson, and I haven’t seen him yet,” said the king wistfully. His expression hardened with wrath. “Estian demanded I relinquish Brythonica. He wishes to take Constance in as his ward, and I’m to believe Goff’s death was an accident.” His nostrils flared. “I feel like a wounded elk with the birds pecking at me before I’ve become a carcass. Everything I wanted to give my sons is being torn away, bit by bit. Benedict will regret this alliance he’s made. No matter the results of this war, he’ll lose more than he ever would have by giving up the Vexin.”

“What would you have me do?”

The king stared over the battlement walls. “Tomorrow morning, I want you to take some scouts and cross the bridge. I need to know how much time we have.”

“Isn’t it possible they’ll strike at Kingfountain first?”

The king pursed his lips. “He wants the crown. And that’s why he’ll come here. I’m sure of it.”

Long after nightfall, Ransom went to check on the king. When he tapped on the door, Sir Iain answered it. He was the only other member of the king’s council present, but he was aged and would be of limited help should a fight break out.

“Can I speak with the king?” Ransom asked.

“He’s asleep, finally,” said Sir Iain. He opened the door wider. “See for yourself.”

Ransom peered into the darkened chamber. A fire crackled in the hearth, providing light and too much warmth. The king lay on the bed without any covers, still wearing his clothes from the day, although his cloak had been tossed on a chair. Ransom ventured in, hearing the faint whistle of breath coming from the sleeping king.

No one else was there. “Where is the prince?” Ransom asked.

Sir Iain sighed. “He’ll be back before dawn.”

Ransom looked at him in concern.

The aging knight sighed again. “He sneaks off after the king falls asleep.”

“Where does he go?”

“A lass in the village has caught his fancy. I haven’t told the king yet. He has enough worries.”

Sir James had been a companion to the prince. No doubt he’d educated the young man on the ignoble arts of carousing. It pained Ransom that the prince was off pleasing himself at such a moment. “Tell me he has a bodyguard?”

“Sir Kyle is very discreet.”

Ransom breathed out through his nose. Then he approached the bedside of the king and gazed down at him. He could feel the man’s indisposition through the Fountain magic.

He unbuckled his sword belt.

Sir Iain gave him a questioning look but said nothing as Ransom laid the scabbard atop the king as gently as he could, trying not to wake him. He didn’t know if the scabbard would heal the king, but he had to try.

When he let go, he stared at the symbol of the raven, wishing it would brighten the way it did when it was healing someone. But nothing happened. Perhaps the only wounds it healed were injuries of war. For all he knew, it might only work for him. Disappointment coursed through him. After waiting several moments, he retrieved the weapon and buckled it back on.

When he returned to his own room, he found the others asleep on pallets on the floor, except for Dearley, who sat with a small oil lamp, a piece of paper, and an inkwell at the humble table near the window. He was tugging on his bottom lip, so lost in thought that he didn’t notice Ransom’s return until he heard the door shut.

Ransom sidestepped a sleeping body and slumped into the chair next to him, glancing at the half-written letter. He wanted to write to Claire again, but he knew it would be difficult, if not impossible, to get a message to Kingfountain before this battle was done.

“Your brother came by looking for you,” said Dearley. “He’d like to join the scouting expedition in the morning.”

Ransom nodded in agreement. “I would like that.”

“The world is upside down,” said Dearley with a small chuckle. “The elder brother now seeks permission from the younger.”

“It is upside down,” agreed Ransom. “The second son seeks to wear the crown.