The Queen's Poisoner

He looked at her, his stomach doing some twisting and turning. He admired her for her courage. Her fearlessness. And somehow, he knew what she was going to suggest before she announced it.

“Let’s jump in!”

Owen hastily rose and backed away. “That’s foolish!”

“No it’s not!” she laughed. “I’ve jumped from higher rocks into colder ponds than this. It’s fun!”

He could not believe his ears. “But how will you get out?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. The same way they get the water out. This is where the water comes in. I don’t see any chains or ropes, so there’s got to be another place where the water is drawn.”

“But you could drown!”

“I’m a very good swimmer. Can’t you swim, Owen?”

“I can swim,” he said, offended.

“Then jump with me!” she said, eyes blazing. She reached out her hand again.

His heart hammered violently in his chest, and his mouth went so dry with fear he felt he couldn’t talk. The fear crippled him, making his ears buzz and his knees weak. He could taste bile in his mouth. His eyes started to water.

The Mortimer girl watched him closely. Her excitement was still evident, but she seemed to sense what was happening to him. She walked around the drain hole and stood in front of him, nose to nose. Then she took his trembling hand in hers. “You’re afraid. I know. But you have to trust me, Owen Kiskaddon. The water is deep enough. We won’t get hurt. I don’t know everything that will happen, but we’ll find our way out. Let’s do it together! Jump with me. That’s how I did it the first time. With Papa holding my hand. It’s scary! It really is. But we’re going to have so much fun. Trust me, Owen! Trust me!”

He stared into her eyes, still unable to tell what color they were. He couldn’t speak. His tongue was too thick in his mouth. He was terrified out of his wits, but he didn’t want to disappoint her. For once, he wasn’t thinking of the risks or the odds of injury. There was just this moment, her warm hand in his, and his trust in her.

“We can do it!” she coaxed.

She led him back to the lip of the cistern. He stared down, and the water looked even farther down this time. It looked as if they were standing on Ankarette’s tower. He felt his stomach lurch. He was going to be sick.

She stood next to him, her hand linked with his.

“Are you ready?” she whispered.

Owen nodded violently, trying to swallow.

“Take a breath and hold it. On three.”

He felt as if his whole body would shake apart.

“One!”

This was madness. Why was he doing this?

“Two!”

He stared down at the water. He took a huge gulp of air and held it in his chest. He squeezed her hand as hard as he could, hoping it would hurt her.

“Three!”

They jumped.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Secrets

It was a long fall. Longer than Owen had thought possible. He watched the water rush up, but it still felt like they were falling. The buzzing, giddy thrill in his stomach went all the way to his ears before the water splashed and they went under. It was like jumping into a giant blanket. The cold water closed over him, smothering him, until his swelling lungs buoyed him to the surface and he came up spluttering. As he thrashed around, terrified and thrilled, the water began to drain from his ears and he could hear the Mortimer girl giggling.

He wasn’t holding her hand anymore, but she was paddling right in front of him, her smile mischievous and full of pride that he had jumped too.

“Wasn’t that amazing!” she gasped, kicking the water to keep herself afloat. Owen’s tunic and pants were waterlogged, but he had no trouble treading water. Looking up, he stared at the huge hole overhead and the sunlight beaming down on them.

Owen nodded eagerly, feeling the lingering thrill in his blood. He would do that again. He would do it a hundred times.

“I told you it was fun,” she chided, splashing him lightly. “You’ll love jumping off the boulders by the waterfalls! This water isn’t even very cold.” She reached up and brushed away wet clumps of hair from her cheek. “You did it!”

Owen smiled shyly at her, knowing he never would have done it without her, then stared back up at the gaping octagonal hole above them. “We need to figure out how to get back up.”

“Look! A little boat!”

She was pointing to a series of stone steps leading up to a square. A small boat was sitting on the square, the oars poking over the ridge. The stairs continued up past the square, leading to a wooden door.