The Queen's Poisoner (The Kingfountain Series Book 1) by Jeff Wheeler Page B

his name. She was looking for him. It suddenly dawned on him that Drew was not the one who had been leaving him messages with the tiles after all.
    He shifted on the floor and her head turned in response to the little noise, her braid slipping down her back. Though he was half-hidden by shadows in the dark corner, that small sound was all it had taken to capture her attention. Aside from the fire embers, only the moon lit the kitchen.
    She walked gracefully toward him, and as she came closer, he realized she was beautiful. She was neither as young as the princess nor as old as the queen. Though he could not tell the color of her eyes in the darkness, they were light, like moonbeams—either gray or blue or green—and so very sad. She absentmindedly reached for the braid and began to tease the tips with her fingers. Then she let it rest across her front again, barely touching the laced bodice.
    She slowly sat on the bench that separated them, resting her hands in her lap in a nonthreatening way. He thought she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.
    As she studied him, the little frown on her mouth smoothed into a small smile. A welcoming one. “Hello, Owen,” she said. Her voice was just loud enough for him to hear her. “Thank you for waiting for me. I am here to help you. The queen sent me.”
    She sat still, waiting for him to respond, waiting to see how he would react to her presence.
    Owen was not sure what he should feel. Her sense of majesty put him a little in mind of the queen herself. She was quiet, her manners very subdued, almost as if she were shy. To his relief, she neither rushed him nor pressured him to reply. She simply waited for him to gather his courage.
    It took a few moments for his mouth to work. But it did, which surprised him. “Are you a ghost?”
    The smile broadened, amused by his question. She had a pretty smile, with just the hint of a dimple. “No,” she answered. “Would you like me to introduce myself?”
    He nodded solemnly, feeling more at ease with her quiet manners.
    “My name is Ankarette Tryneowy. That’s a strange name, isn’t it? But it is my name. I am the queen’s poisoner. She sent me to help you.”

Too many people are frightened. They want youth to last. They complain bitterly if sickness comes. But the world is always in tumult, and fortunes rise and fall and fail. It is the ambitious who accomplish things. It takes courage to be ambitious, for never was anything great achieved without risk. I wish to become the head of the Espion. There—I’ve written it down. A goal not written down is merely a wish.
     
    —Dominic Mancini, Espion of the Palace Kitchen

CHAPTER ELEVEN
    The Fountain

    Ankarette was so quiet, so subdued, that Owen was not as frightened of her as he was of most strangers. But he was not quite sure if being a poisoner wasn’t worse than being a ghost.
    “Do you have any questions?” she asked him softly.
    “What is a poisoner?”
    She seemed to have anticipated the question, and it did not trouble her. “Every prince in every realm has enemies, Owen. These enemies try to take away his crown. Being a prince is very dangerous business, you know.” She paused. “A poisoner’s job is to protect the ruler from his enemies. Sometimes there are dangerous men who need to be stopped. I know how to mix potions that can make someone very sick. Sometimes that is enough to stop the danger. Sometimes, I must make a potion that kills.” She glanced down at her hands in her lap. “I don’t like doing that, but sometimes it must be done.” Her voice was so soft and sad.
    “You said you were the queen’s poisoner,” Owen said. “You mean the queen at Our Lady?”
    “Yes.”
    “Do you live in the sanctuary then?”
    “No, I live here in the palace.” She pointed through the upper window to the spark in the knife-blade tower. “Up there, in that tower.”
    Owen’s eyes widened. “I thought that’s where the king lived!”
    She smiled