The Thief's Daughter by Jeff Wheeler Page B

threaten Iago. At all times, you are to project strength rather than weakness. My chancellor will also provide you with the funds required to act as my emissary. I have contacts at the court of Iago, which Master Mancini will explain to you. You will go with a full diplomatic escort, including several of my court lawyers to serve as your advisors. But I would have it made clear that you represent me and are empowered to negotiate on my behalf. You must make him see that his interests are best served with me as a friend and Occitania as his enemy.”
    “It is . . . a great honor,” she stammered.
    “You have proven worthy of it.” The king gestured her dismissal. “I would speak to Owen next. As you know, he will be going with you as one of your protectors. You may go.”
    Owen’s heart was dark and brooding and sizzling with enmity. He cursed himself silently for not speaking to the king about his feelings back at Dundrennan. To expose them now would risk offending Severn to a catastrophic degree. There was only one hope: He was going with Evie to Atabyrion, so perhaps he could prevent the disaster simply by being there.
    Evie bowed again, still pale with dread, and left the throne room. She glanced at him once before leaving, her eyes beseeching his. Though Owen ached to follow her, he could only stare at her with pain.
    “You as well, Niece,” the king said, though he spoke with compassion. Elyse looked at the king, a small frown on her mouth, but she rose and left as she had been bidden. Was she suffering because she knew what was happening to Owen and Evie? Or was it this business of the pretender that had her so twisted up inside?
    As the door shut behind her, Owen turned to face Severn and Mancini. The spymaster gave a nod to tell Clark to stay put.
    The king rose from his throne, wincing with discomfort, and began to pace the throne room. He glanced at Mancini. “Fetch her,” he said curtly.
    Mancini nodded and walked over to the doorway the king usually used to enter the throne room. The king’s expression was guarded.
    “Do you really seek a marriage alliance with Atabyrion?” Owen asked, trying to keep his tone neutral, but he felt his voice nearly breaking.
    The king smirked. “An alliance, if possible. If Iago is smart, he will bite at the bait. But your assignment in Atabyrion will be quite different from that of the earl’s daughter. As you have no doubt noticed, the rumors about young Piers Urbick have rattled my court and stabbed at the heart of my niece.” His face wilted with pain. “You can imagine it has affected me in an equally painful manner. I have long been under the impression that both of my nephews were murdered. Bletchley left no clues as to the whereabouts of their bodies or even how they were murdered. But my spies in the courts of Brugia and Legault have begun to piece together clues that make this situation very compromising for me. If the lad is who Tunmore claims him to be, then he does have a motive to instigate a challenge to the throne. However, the deconeus is a notorious liar, and he’s using his gifts to propagate the boy’s story. I might control the treasury and the reins of state, but there are clearly many who would prefer a change in government. And benefit from one. I wish to know for certain whether the boy is an imposter. Ah, there she is.”
    Owen saw movement from the corner of his eye, and then Mancini returned from the passageway with a young woman at his arm. He recognized the girl immediately as the one he had fought with in the tower. She had on a beautiful court gown and her hair was done up in a stylish coiffure—obviously another wig. She wore Ankarette’s jewels still, and when she saw Owen, a sly smile turned the corner of her lips. Still, she did not give off the sense that she recognized him. Their secret would not be revealed by her—not yet.
    A flush of heat bloomed on Owen’s cheeks.
    “Owen, this is Etayne,” the king said by way of