The King's Traitor (The Kingfountain Series Book 3) by Jeff Wheeler Page A

courage, we would have been invaded long ago. She was going to bring you to see us at our manor house, but I couldn’t bear to wait. I needed to touch you and make sure you were real.” She stroked his hair with a pained smile. “You are here. You look . . . rather ragged for a duke.” She sniffed and grimaced slightly. “I was expecting you would arrive in all your state. But you look and smell like a common soldier.”
    “I am a soldier,” Owen said with a dark chuckle. “Fighting wars for the king has been my task in life. We’ve had no peace since Ambion Hill.”
    Her eyes narrowed with some inner wisdom. “Nor will you, so I fear.”
    He wrinkled his brow. “What do you mean, Jessica?”
    “It is not my place to say,” she said, pressing her lips together tightly. “But this much I can tell you. There is a reason the duchess has chosen to stay as the ruler of Brythonica. Why she refused to become the Queen of Occitania when given the chance. Why she would refuse to become the Queen of Ceredigion if Severn were to demand it.”
    “And what is that reason? Jessica, you must tell me if you know.”
    She shook her head firmly. “I cannot, Owen. It is not my secret to share. The duchess will, if she trusts you.” She squirmed uncomfortably. “Owen . . . you look so old for one so young. I can see in your eyes how much suffering you have known. You cannot understand how much it grieved us to leave you behind. You saved us. We are not ungrateful; surely you must know that.” She hugged him again and planted a moist kiss on his cheek. “But our family was sundered that day. There has been the ghost of pain these many years. Maman and Papan will be so happy to see you. You must come soon, Owen. It will ease their anguish to see you again.”
    Just hearing her endearments caused an ache of pain inside Owen’s bones. He was not a boy any longer. But the childhood hurts were still sore.
    “I don’t understand why you couldn’t send word. Why the duchess didn’t tell me.” Despite how wonderful it felt to see her, to be near one who shared his blood, he was suspicious of her motives.
    Jessica cupped his cheek. “I’ll send word to Maman that you are here. I live in the castle, naturally. I heard about how you arrived and made your demands.” She looked up to the ceiling and then shook her head. “You were very rude, Owen.”
    Hearing it from his sister made the shame of his actions fester. “Well, I’ll admit my entrance was rather unconventional.”
    “Now that’s calling a frog a goose!” she teased.
    Owen laughed at the statement. “So I’m a frog, am I?”
    “You are a handsome lad behind that dirt and dishevelment.” Her eyes narrowed slightly as she gazed over Owen’s shoulder. Her voice dropped very low. “Is that your mistress?”
    She was talking about Etayne. He had almost forgotten she was in the room, amidst the storm of emotion. “No, of course not! She’s my . . . how shall I put this? She’s my protector.”
    Jessica’s eyes lifted with surprise. “Very well, although that’s quite a mysterious answer. I will send word to Maman and Papan at once. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m so glad you have finally come!” She hugged and kissed him again and then stole away from the room, blowing him a last kiss as she quietly shut the door.
    Owen folded his arms, still reeling from the revelations of the evening. He heard Etayne’s footsteps pad up to him.
    His heart still raged with emotions. He blinked quickly, feeling close to tears, and pinched a few strands of his beard below his bottom lip and tugged at them.
    “I’m glad you’re here, Etayne,” he said in a half whisper. “My emotions are being toyed with. I’m not even sure what to think right now.”
    “So that was your sister. Are you certain it was her? I can feel Fountain magic all around us.”
    “The endearments she used,” Owen said, nodding. “That’s what I used to call my mother and father.” His