The Maid's War(46)

He had the feeling that this was a secret they had hoped to keep hidden.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Stealing a Duke





At some point in the night, Ankarette Tryneowy had decided she needed to kidnap the Duke of La Marche. Or liberate him, as the case may be. The poisoner she’d caught in the act of murdering him had tipped her thinking. She also could not deny that she was eager for him to finish his tale—a task that would take longer than they had.

So she decided to escape and bring the Gentle Duke with her after all.

“You’re coming with me when I leave,” Ankarette told him.

He gave her an incredulous look. “I appreciate your offer to help me, lass,” he said with a defeated smile. “But there is no way I am leaving this palace alive. Chatriyon’s son is king, and they don’t call him the spider without reason. I’m tangled in his web. I can go nowhere.”

Ankarette slipped her knife out of its sheath and angled it in front of his eyes. “Spiders are my specialty,” she said. “I’ve given this a little thought as you’ve told me your story, and I have a plan. Let’s be quick about it. Bring me the quilt on the bed.”

“The quilt?”

She nodded and gestured for it. The duke walked over to the bed, hefted the bulky covering, and dragged it over to her. Ankarette began to slice it into strips with the dagger.

“Let’s talk while I work,” she said, beginning another slice. She was quick with her hands and saw in her mind the shapes she would need. “I have many questions for you that are unanswered. Tell me about the chest the Maid drew from the fountain. What was inside?”

“It looked somewhat like a Wizr set. But the pieces were unique, not like the kind you’d buy from a Genevese tradesman fashioned out of alabaster or marble. It was more than just a Wizr set. There was some power within it. I don’t know for certain what it did. Chatriyon guarded it jealously. In fact, he changed after he got it.”

“What do you mean?”

“His personality altered. One could say it was the crowning. He was in the same position after being crowned—he was still poor, still dependent on others for coin and soldiers—but his mood began to alter. He started to consider the Maid a threat.”

Ankarette continued to work on the quilt, grateful for the sharpness of her knife. As she listened to the story, she kept an ear facing the doorway to alert her of anyone coming up the steps.

“So the chest is still a mystery. But you did notice a change in his personality. I’m curious. Where did he keep it after it was taken?”

Alensson shook his head. “I saw it near him often. He kept the key that opened it around his neck.”

“Surely you asked Genette about the chest?” she pressed.

He nodded. “Of course. I was quite curious after seeing her draw it out of the fountain. She was very . . . evasive in her answers. She said it was the Fountain’s will for the king to receive the box for a season. Those were her words. She told me that it would serve a greater good. But I could tell that she was displeased by the changes it started in Chatriyon. She noticed them too.”

“Give me an example.”

He began pacing, his arms folded over his chest. “He started to act impatient with Genette. Distrusting and annoyed. Almost as if he couldn’t abide being in her presence. And a gloom of sorts settled on him. A melancholy. He began to chase after women in the court. He would be talking to someone, nodding and following the conversation, while his eyes fixed on some woman or other. Genette told him it was time to liberate the rest of his country. She asked him to send her and the army to conquer the capital, Pree. I was eager for that to be our next move. If Pree fell, think of it! Think of the spoils of war! Not only would Chatriyon gain enough treasure to be independent, but I could continue clearing my debts. Victory would mean ransoms as well, and I have to say, I intended to be paid for the privations I had suffered. I wanted Deford, the younger brother of the king who had ruined us at Azinkeep. The man who had been rewarded with my duchy. You must know how much I wanted to defeat him. But the king wouldn’t hear it. Genette had won every battle since Lionn. Why he started to distrust her at that moment, I don’t know. She implored him to send her. By this point, many of the towns and villages were joining our side. The balance was shifting. Duke Deford’s power was waning. He still commanded the royal army and was summoning reinforcements from his lands. He still held Pree and La Marche—Westmarch, as he called it—” This part was added with a decided snort. The duke cut himself off when he noticed Ankarette was tying the strips of cloth together.