The Queen's Poisoner
Page 50

Owen wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but he got to his feet and ran to her with relief. As soon as he reached her, he wrapped his arms around her middle and pressed his cheek against her stomach. He was so grateful to see her, so relieved to have been found.
She set the candlestick down and folded her arms around his head. She stroked his hair, his neck, murmuring softly that everything would be all right. She smelled wonderful. Even in the safety of her arms, he shivered and shuddered, unable to quell the terror.
Ankarette knelt down, bringing herself level with his face, and cupped his cheek in her hand. Not saying anything, she peered into his eyes, her gaze full of sadness and serenity. Then she leaned forward and kissed the corner of his eye, where the tears were still coming. She murmured a word in a language he didn’t know, and suddenly he felt peace. His heartbeat began to slow down. The tears stopped. Instead of terror, he felt relief. Warmth and kindness suffused him, putting a stop to his spasms.
Still kneeling, Ankarette took up the candlestick. She then rose to her feet and offered Owen her hand. He clung to it, so grateful to be led away from the darkness.
She took him back to his bedroom and set the candlestick on the table near the bed before helping him under the covers. He could only stare at her with reverence. He would have done anything in the world she asked him to do. Once he was settled, she knelt by his bedside and planted her elbow on the mattress so she could rest her chin on her knuckles.
“There’s my little Owen,” she whispered with affection, reaching out and smoothing some of his hair from his forehead. “You had quite a scare tonight.”
He nodded, feeling a twinge of horror try to well up inside him. It could not rise above the well-being in his heart.
“Was that . . . was that magic?” he asked her simply.
She wrinkled her brow a bit. “Was what?”
“You kissed my eye and whispered something. Was that magic?”
She smiled languidly and then nodded once.
“Can you teach it to me?” he begged.
“You are too young,” she answered, tapping his nose with her slender finger.
“Will you teach me when I’m older?”
She pursed her lips, as if his question caused her pain. “If I can,” she answered after the hesitation.
“I don’t want to be an Espion anymore,” Owen said, shaking his head firmly. His eyelids were drooping, and he felt so tired all of a sudden. “I was so afraid.”
“You got lost in the tunnels?”
He nodded sleepily. “I found the king’s room. And then Ratcliffe came up behind me. I thought I would be caught. I never want to do that again.”
“But you weren’t caught, were you?”
He shook his head no. “But I was scared. I kept seeing things in the dark.”
She laid her hand on his forehead, stroking the tips of his hair. “Courage isn’t the absence of fear, Owen. Courage is moving forward even when you’re afraid. I’ve known many brave men who have felt fear the night before a battle. Fear comes and stalks them, like a wolf does a lamb.” She paused, sliding her finger down his nose. “But when the dawn comes, they do their duty, and the fear goes away. It only preys on the powerless. Owen, you have power.”
He stared at her, his eyelids so heavy. “No, I don’t.”
She nodded sagely. “You do. Your power summoned me tonight. I felt your need. The Fountain whispers to those of us who listen. I had a bad feeling about you tonight when you didn’t come. Most people ignore those little feelings. But I’ve learned to trust them. I didn’t know where you were, but I kept looking. Kept searching. And then I heard you weeping.” She caressed his cheek with her knuckle.
“Ankarette, will you tell me about the Fountain again?” he asked. He blinked and forced his eyes open. He wanted to listen to her, but he was so tired. He licked his fingertips and then rubbed the wetness over his eyelids. That made it easier to keep them open.
She gently stroked his hair. “The Fountain is everywhere, Owen. It’s here in the room with us. It was in your tears. It’s likened to water because without water, even a little bit, we would die in days. I can hear its murmur right now, here with us. It carried your fear and despair to me, knowing I could help you. It led me to you. The Fountain is power, like a river current. Even the strongest things must budge to its force, given enough time. The Fountain is magic. We were all born of it. And it was the Fountain that gave me the idea of how to save you.”
“By tricking the king,” Owen said with a weary smile. “Has the Fountain told you how yet?”