The Queen's Poisoner
Page 72
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The thought of her bald made him giggle. But then her eyes widened with surprise as she looked over his shoulder. Ankarette had come into the room.
“The lady from the kitchen,” she whispered in awe.
Ankarette came and sat on the edge of Evie’s bed. The soft candlelight highlighted her silk gown and perfectly coiffed hair. She looked like such a fairy creature that Elysabeth’s mouth formed a lovely O as she stared at her. For the first time, Owen noticed there were some similarities between them—the color of their hair and their eyes almost matched. If Elysabeth Victoria Mortimer grew up looking like Ankarette Tryneowy, he would have no problem marrying her.
“I’m pleased to meet you again, my lady,” Ankarette said, bowing her head respectfully. “Owen tells me you are Elysabeth Victoria Mortimer, daughter of Lord Mortimer and granddaughter of Lord Horwath. You have esteemed parentage.”
A small smile came to Evie’s face. “Who are you?” she asked, looking intrigued but also a little wary.
“My name is Ankarette Tryneowy. I am the queen’s poisoner.”
If possible, the girl’s eyes seemed to light up even more. “Truly? That is so interesting. You make poisons? But you said you’re the queen’s poisoner. The queen died. Did you . . . did you poison her?”
Ankarette suppressed a smile. “I served a different queen than King Severn’s wife. And no, I did not poison her. She died from a sickness. I have been teaching Owen Kiskaddon many things, but most importantly, how to become Fountain-blessed. I am Fountain-blessed.”
“You are?” she asked eagerly, even more involved if that were possible. Owen was so grateful that he did not have to carry the burden of the secret alone.
“I am. Owen is very special to me. I know he is to you, as well. I don’t want the king to hurt him or his family if I can help it. I came here tonight to tell you both a story. Owen wanted so much to tell you about me. He’s been pleading with me to trust you, so I came by the kitchen today to see if I dared. When you defended your friend against a much bigger boy, I knew that I could give you my confidence.”
Evie smiled with self-satisfaction. “Grandpapa said I should leave flogging to him. But I couldn’t stand by while Dunsdworth beat Owen with a belt. Did you see what it did to his cheek? It wasn’t Owen’s fault his pants fell down!”
Ankarette suppressed a smile as she gave Owen a pointed look.
“Actually, it was,” Owen admitted.
Evie covered her mouth, stifling a laugh. “You are wicked,” she said, laughing softly. “He deserved it.” She turned her gaze on Ankarette. “If you are trying to help Owen, then I want to help too.”
“I thought you would,” Ankarette replied sagely. “So I must tell you both a story. It is a secret that very few know about. But even though it’s a secret, it is still true. Why don’t you both sit on the floor and listen? It is the story of how I died.”
Owen’s eyes widened. He sat on the floor next to Evie, his knees touching hers. His companion was so eager to hear the story, she was fidgeting slightly. Owen felt just as anxious, but for a different reason—he was concerned by the ominous beginning.
“This is a story about four brothers,” Ankarette said simply. “Three of them are dead now. Only the youngest has survived. He is the last of the brothers. His name is Severn. He is your king.” She folded her hands in her lap, bending closer so she could speak more softly. “The eldest brother was Eredur. His father and the next-eldest brother died rebelling against their king. That happens a lot in Ceredigion, and this was many years ago. Eredur was tall, strong, and handsome. The people liked him. With his uncle Warrewik’s help, he defeated the king and claimed the crown. While the war was still raging, he sent his two youngest brothers to live across the sea in the kingdom of Brugia. Severn was eight years old when that happened. He was your age, Owen. His father had just died in a terrible battle. Just like yours did, my lady. He was very sad.”
Evie nodded, her countenance darkening, betraying the pent-up grief she felt over her loss. Owen looked at her, surprised. He reached over and covered her hand with his. She smiled at him, but there were tears in her eyes.
“King Eredur began to establish himself in the realm. His uncle Warrewik, the one who had helped him gain the throne, was his chief supporter, and he ran the king’s network of Espion. I was very young back then. Sixteen. I was a servant in Warrewik’s household, but I was part of the Espion. I served his eldest daughter, Isybelle. We were very close. But as often happens in families, the king and his uncle grew angry with each other. The uncle didn’t get his way when he thought that he should have. There was a misunderstanding about the king’s marriage. And so Warrewik decided to topple the king. He had his daughter, my mistress Isybelle, marry the king’s younger brother, Lord Dunsdworth, and he promised his son-in-law the kingdom of Ceredigion. My loyalty was to the king, not to the uncle. When I learned of his plot, I tried to warn the king of his brother’s treachery, but I was too late to save him. He was captured and almost thrown into the river. The uncle should have done away with him. The decision cost him his life later.”
“The lady from the kitchen,” she whispered in awe.
Ankarette came and sat on the edge of Evie’s bed. The soft candlelight highlighted her silk gown and perfectly coiffed hair. She looked like such a fairy creature that Elysabeth’s mouth formed a lovely O as she stared at her. For the first time, Owen noticed there were some similarities between them—the color of their hair and their eyes almost matched. If Elysabeth Victoria Mortimer grew up looking like Ankarette Tryneowy, he would have no problem marrying her.
“I’m pleased to meet you again, my lady,” Ankarette said, bowing her head respectfully. “Owen tells me you are Elysabeth Victoria Mortimer, daughter of Lord Mortimer and granddaughter of Lord Horwath. You have esteemed parentage.”
A small smile came to Evie’s face. “Who are you?” she asked, looking intrigued but also a little wary.
“My name is Ankarette Tryneowy. I am the queen’s poisoner.”
If possible, the girl’s eyes seemed to light up even more. “Truly? That is so interesting. You make poisons? But you said you’re the queen’s poisoner. The queen died. Did you . . . did you poison her?”
Ankarette suppressed a smile. “I served a different queen than King Severn’s wife. And no, I did not poison her. She died from a sickness. I have been teaching Owen Kiskaddon many things, but most importantly, how to become Fountain-blessed. I am Fountain-blessed.”
“You are?” she asked eagerly, even more involved if that were possible. Owen was so grateful that he did not have to carry the burden of the secret alone.
“I am. Owen is very special to me. I know he is to you, as well. I don’t want the king to hurt him or his family if I can help it. I came here tonight to tell you both a story. Owen wanted so much to tell you about me. He’s been pleading with me to trust you, so I came by the kitchen today to see if I dared. When you defended your friend against a much bigger boy, I knew that I could give you my confidence.”
Evie smiled with self-satisfaction. “Grandpapa said I should leave flogging to him. But I couldn’t stand by while Dunsdworth beat Owen with a belt. Did you see what it did to his cheek? It wasn’t Owen’s fault his pants fell down!”
Ankarette suppressed a smile as she gave Owen a pointed look.
“Actually, it was,” Owen admitted.
Evie covered her mouth, stifling a laugh. “You are wicked,” she said, laughing softly. “He deserved it.” She turned her gaze on Ankarette. “If you are trying to help Owen, then I want to help too.”
“I thought you would,” Ankarette replied sagely. “So I must tell you both a story. It is a secret that very few know about. But even though it’s a secret, it is still true. Why don’t you both sit on the floor and listen? It is the story of how I died.”
Owen’s eyes widened. He sat on the floor next to Evie, his knees touching hers. His companion was so eager to hear the story, she was fidgeting slightly. Owen felt just as anxious, but for a different reason—he was concerned by the ominous beginning.
“This is a story about four brothers,” Ankarette said simply. “Three of them are dead now. Only the youngest has survived. He is the last of the brothers. His name is Severn. He is your king.” She folded her hands in her lap, bending closer so she could speak more softly. “The eldest brother was Eredur. His father and the next-eldest brother died rebelling against their king. That happens a lot in Ceredigion, and this was many years ago. Eredur was tall, strong, and handsome. The people liked him. With his uncle Warrewik’s help, he defeated the king and claimed the crown. While the war was still raging, he sent his two youngest brothers to live across the sea in the kingdom of Brugia. Severn was eight years old when that happened. He was your age, Owen. His father had just died in a terrible battle. Just like yours did, my lady. He was very sad.”
Evie nodded, her countenance darkening, betraying the pent-up grief she felt over her loss. Owen looked at her, surprised. He reached over and covered her hand with his. She smiled at him, but there were tears in her eyes.
“King Eredur began to establish himself in the realm. His uncle Warrewik, the one who had helped him gain the throne, was his chief supporter, and he ran the king’s network of Espion. I was very young back then. Sixteen. I was a servant in Warrewik’s household, but I was part of the Espion. I served his eldest daughter, Isybelle. We were very close. But as often happens in families, the king and his uncle grew angry with each other. The uncle didn’t get his way when he thought that he should have. There was a misunderstanding about the king’s marriage. And so Warrewik decided to topple the king. He had his daughter, my mistress Isybelle, marry the king’s younger brother, Lord Dunsdworth, and he promised his son-in-law the kingdom of Ceredigion. My loyalty was to the king, not to the uncle. When I learned of his plot, I tried to warn the king of his brother’s treachery, but I was too late to save him. He was captured and almost thrown into the river. The uncle should have done away with him. The decision cost him his life later.”
