The Queen's Poisoner

Mancini sat where he always sat, his hands over his belt, his boot tapping slowly to some song on the floor. He was waiting for Ankarette. He looked rather pleased with himself.

“I’ve never really cared for children,” Mancini said, either to himself or Owen, while nibbling on a fingernail. “I would be a terrible father.”

“I agree with you,” Owen said darkly, just loud enough for the big man to hear it.

“My father used to whip me when I got my letters wrong. He was always pushing me to excel in languages, in law, in scholarship. I only wanted to please him.” He sniffed, shaking his head. “I only drink when I am bored, you know. When I lack things to engage my mind. I may return to Genevar when this is done. You would like it there, lad. There is lots of water for swimming. I used to swim.” He sighed again. “Maybe I should have just let you drown.”

Owen felt his stomach squirm as he stared at the man. Their eyes finally met when Mancini glanced at him. Neither of them spoke.

It was nearly midnight when she finally came.

The secret door slid open and Ankarette emerged holding a candle, like she had done that first night months ago. Owen rose from his seated posture and walked over. She looked pale, drawn, and weary, almost as if the small weight of the candle was burdensome to her.

“Did you get the book?” Mancini asked her, a wry smile on his face.

Ankarette shook her head and set the candle down. She ignored the tray of food completely. “The king is reading it right now. He read it all last night, too. He has hardly set it down.”

Mancini grunted. “I suppose then that you want me to try and steal it.”

Owen felt his insides twist with anger as he looked at the lazy spy.

As if reading his thoughts, and perhaps she was, Ankarette gave him a sad, weary smile, and gently stroked his hair. She smelled like faded roses.

“What’s going to happen?” Owen whispered. “They’re taking me home tomorrow, but I’m afraid to go.”

She cupped his cheek. “I told you I would help you, Owen.”

“You told me you would help me,” Mancini quipped. “I don’t know, boy. I think she’s out of tricks this time.” He grunted and huffed and made it to his feet ponderously. “If you couldn’t steal the book, how am I supposed to do it? Your game is about played out. There are too many pieces still on the king’s side of the Wizr board. Not enough on yours. Best to realize this one is over. You can’t save the boy.”

Owen turned and gave Mancini a blistering look. But he saw the cunning in Mancini’s eyes. He was trying to provoke Ankarette into admitting or revealing something.

A small smile flickered on her mouth. “You no longer want to help me then? You think you can step into Ratcliffe’s place on your own?”

Mancini shrugged. “Actually, I do. The king pretty much dismissed him today. And what I know about foreign courts will be much more useful to him if all his enemies at home are dead.” He scratched the corner of his mouth.

“His trust must be earned, Dominic,” Ankarette insisted. “He’s been betrayed too many times. You are Genevese. It would take something incredible to change his opinion of you. But I am helping you, as I said I would. I need a conversation with John Tunmore, but that can’t happen while he’s in sanctuary.”

Mancini chuckled. “I thought you were behind his escape?”

Owen was surprised when she shook her head no.

“Not directly. I just helped him unlock the door. And because of you, the king has Our Lady under constant guard. Deconeus Tunmore has merely shifted his prison from one cell to another. He won’t last long in there. He needs freedom. Are you ready for your next assignment, Dominic? Or will you quit now?”

He squinted, looking puzzled. “I think I am done,” he said ominously. “If you are pushing Tunmore to lead the Espion, then our interests no longer align.”

“The king will not trust Deconeus Tunmore,” Ankarette said. “Have no doubt of that. We need to get that book.”

Mancini shook his head. “Impossible.”

She knelt down by Owen’s side and rubbed his shoulder. She glanced over at Mancini. “You can never fully earn the king’s trust, Mancini. There are too many barriers. But someday Owen will lead the Espion. And he will need you, and you will need him. Your fates are entwined together. You must help the boy when I am gone.”

Mancini looked shocked, his mouth hanging open. “But I thought . . . we agreed . . . that I would lead the Espion!”