The King's Traitor (The Kingfountain Series Book 3) Read Free Page A

granddaughter to meet him. And I cannot regret having ambition for my duchy.” His teeth clenched together as another wave of pain struck him. “I did what I thought was best. I led men. I was fair.”
    “You served with integrity,” Owen said hoarsely. “Even if it wasn’t always deserved.”
    “I did,” Horwath grunted. “I’ve asked . . . the king . . . if he will let my granddaughter inherit Dundrennan.” He licked his chapped lips. “I don’t know . . . if he will. He never promised.” He sighed deeply, uttering a small groan.
    Owen glanced at the door, willing Iago and Elysabeth to come quickly.
    The duke started shuddering. “Duty is a heavy burden, lad. My knees ache from the load. It is time I set it down.” He turned his head again, his eyes full of pain and suffering. He pierced Owen with his gaze. “It’s yours now. I . . . bequeath it . . . to you.”
    A shard of torment dug into Owen’s heart. He didn’t want the burden. He loathed it. But he could see Horwath would not die in peace without handing off his duty to someone else. He felt tears prick the corner of his eyes.
    “I will take it,” Owen said miserably. “Be at peace, Grandfather. You’ve carried it long enough.”
    Stiev Horwath closed his eyes and sighed deeply. Owen thought it was his last breath, but the wave of pain had passed and he was breathing easier. His hand was limp against Owen’s.
    “The duty I give you,” the duke whispered softly, “is found in the ice caves.”
    Owen stared at the old man in shock. The duke had a tranquil look on his face now, an expression of calm. Owen heard the susurrus of the Fountain coming into the room.
    “What did you say?” Owen asked, leaning closer. His heart started to burn.
    “The Maid’s sword,” the duke murmured. “I know where it is. One of my people . . . a Fountain-blessed lad by the name of Carrick, can lead you to it. He’s one of the castle hunters. So is his father. He found the Maid’s sword in the ice. The sword of King Andrew. I have forbidden my people to wander the ice caves. To keep the secret safe.”
    Owen stared in surprise. “Why have you not spoken of it before?”
    The duke blinked. “Because we already have a king,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “But Severn has no heir. No child. It is the sword of kings. Do not . . . tell . . . the Occitanians. If they get it, they will conquer our kingdom. They want revenge for the past. This duty, I lay on you. Be true.”
    Iago and Elysabeth came rushing into the room, each shepherding along one of their children. Iago seemed quite comfortable in the role of father. Owen had seen him interacting with his children—sweeping them high into the air and making them laugh and squeal. He was especially close to Genevieve, very patient and indulging, even when she had interrupted one of Iago and Owen’s conversations about trade and their dealings with Brugia’s ambitious ruler. Owen could not deny a certain grudging respect for Iago, both the ruler and the man. It was as unexpected as it was unwelcome.
    Now, though, the entire family looked disconsolate—even little Genevieve, who was constantly prattling, seemed at a loss for words as she stared at her great-grandfather’s wheezing body.
    “Thank you for telling us,” Elysabeth said, squeezing Owen’s arm as she rushed past him to her grandfather. “Grandpapa! The king is here! He just rode into the bailey and is coming shortly. The king is here!”
    Owen felt a wriggle of doom at the words. Horwath blinked at her, then smiled.
    “He came,” Horwath said in surprise.
    Iago scooped up Genevieve in his arms and nudged past Owen to get nearer. He gave Owen a look that was difficult to interpret. Was it smugness? Exultation? Or did he simply pity Owen for losing the woman they both loved, for not having a family of his own?
    Elysabeth and Iago’s younger child was only two, too young to understand matters of death, and he was tugging on