The Queen's Poisoner

Owen was amazed at her level of thinking. He would never have been able to come up with such an idea on his own. “I think so. Lord Asilomar’s badge was the clue.”

She nodded affectionately and reached out and took his hand. “I need rest, Owen. Mancini will help us with the next clue.”

“I know,” Owen said shyly. “I heard him from the hall.”

“I’m glad you did,” she answered with a wink. “You were clever to stay hidden. The next clue will be tricky because it may not come in the night. You must be ready to act quickly. Like before, you won’t know what it means. Just trust the words I tell you. Each is chosen deliberately. There may be many more deaths in the near future. The king defeated his enemies at Ambion Hill, but he is still unsure of his throne. He now has absolute power in the realm, and his enemies at home are quaking with fear that what happened to Lord Asilomar is just the beginning.”

“I wanted to ask you something,” Owen said. “I want to tell Evie about our secret.” He bit his lip, looking at her worriedly. “I think she would help us. The only reason I had enough courage to speak to the king was because she was with me.”

Ankarette’s expression hardened. It was almost imperceptible, but Owen knew her well enough to notice the tightening around her eyes and the little dip in her smile.

“I see,” she said softly, then looked down at her hands, which still held his. Owen could tell she was thinking very hard, very quickly. After a long pause, she squeezed his hand lightly and peered into his eyes.

“It is difficult for you, for anyone, to keep a secret,” she said in a very serious tone. Then she released his hand and tapped her own heart with her fingers. “A secret squirms inside of us. Like a chick wanting to be free of its egg. Or a moth quivering inside a cocoon. Secrets want to be told, don’t they?”

He stared at her, not sure if she was pleased with him or not. Her serious manner made him fear he had made a mistake. “Yes,” he agreed, because he did want to tell Evie. Especially considering the way she had reacted to his dream. It felt . . . dishonest keeping it from her.

She reached and put her hand on his shoulder. “You want to tell her because you feel a sense of loyalty toward her. She is your friend, your playmate. She is pretty and she is kind. You two share confidences. But remember the nature of secrets, Owen. If you share yours, it will stop wriggling inside your chest. And it will start wriggling inside hers. Secrets always want to come out. She feels loyalty to you. That is clear. But is her loyalty to you greater than her loyalty to her grandfather?” She raised her eyebrows. “Who has she known longer? Who has shown her more love and devotion?”

She sighed deeply and dropped her hand back into her lap. Then she looked at him with her luminous eyes, her gaze imploring. “When you share a secret, Owen, you take a great risk. I am who I am, I became who I became, because I don’t share secrets very easily. I make sure I can trust someone fully before I do. I have trusted Mancini with only a portion of my plan. The same with Berwick. I need to tell them things in order to accomplish my goal, but either one of them could betray us. Before you share the truth with Lady Mortimer, I need to know if I can trust her. That means I must meet her and look her in the eyes. I must discern her. That is a risk, of course, but I am willing to take it if it will help you have courage.”

Owen nodded firmly, understanding what she meant. “I trust you, Ankarette Tryneowy,” he said. “I also trust her. I think . . . I think she’s like us.”

“Then watch for me in the kitchen,” Ankarette said, stroking the white patch of hair above Owen’s ear.

The next morning in the great hall, Owen found that his world had changed overnight. When he and Evie walked into the room, he noticed that attendance in the hall had increased dramatically. There were noble families there who had never attended the king’s breakfasts before. Fathers and mothers with children clustering around their legs. Hushing noises heralded his entrance and people eyed him with open curiosity and interest. Additional food had been gathered to the trestle tables—huge trays of fried bacon, muffins, breads and cheeses, vines of grapes, and green pears.

The commotion subsided for only a moment and then people began talking again, wondering aloud if the lad had had any more dreams. Owen had predicted the fall of House Asilomar. People wanted to know if another family would be named.

“They are like carrion birds,” Evie whispered disdainfully in his ear. “They want to peck at the lands and farms that will be left behind if other traitors are named. Where were they all before?”