Simon strode swiftly into the dining hall, his hair windblown and his face weary from an arduous journey. The panicked look on his face struck Ransom forcibly. So, too, did the fact that his skin was paler than chalk.
“What’s happened?” he asked with dread.
“You need to come with me,” Simon said. “Right now. This very night.”
Ransom gripped the edge of his chair and cocked his head. “Where?”
“To Beestone castle.”
“If this is your idea of a jest, Simon . . .” Ransom started, but one look at his friend’s face silenced him.
“Devon is dying,” Simon said softly.
The news struck Ransom like a staff to the ribs. He took a couple of steps toward his friend. “I don’t understand.”
“I don’t know what news has reached you, but I will be brief. He sent me to get you. He told me to kill as many horses as necessary and bring you back to him. He was wrong about his wife. It was Sir Robert who was carrying on with her. When Devon found out . . . he . . . I’ve never seen him so distraught. Noemie fled the castle. She’s probably back in Pree by now. She won’t stand by him when he falls, not again. She won’t be a prisoner like Emiloh. Then Devon fell sick. He’s been coughing up blood. He sent Talbot to tell his father that he surrenders. And he sent me to get you. He feels horrible about what he did to you. He wants your forgiveness . . .” His voice cracked. “Before he dies.”
Ransom stared at him in disbelief, feeling the shock of the situation down to his bones. The sudden sickness could be no coincidence. He grieved for Devon, but he also felt the sinking sensation of having acted the fool. Noemie had told him that Devon’s life was at stake. He’d believed it to be yet another ploy to sway him into her trap.
The words the Elder King had spoken to him years before came back with haunting prescience. He could hear the voice ringing in his skull.
Your duty is to keep that feckless young man alive!
“How far is Beestone?” Ransom demanded.
“I left there this morning. My horse nearly died getting me here.”
“Are you fit to ride?”
Simon nodded, but his exhaustion was apparent.
“Get some rest. You can have a horse from my stables. I’ll leave at once. Lamere!”
The steward, who had been waiting just outside the door, entered with an expectant look.
“I want the fastest horse from the stables prepared. I’m leaving at once. When Sir Simon has recovered, you will provide him a fresh mount and send him after me. Everything I wanted for my journey, I want you to send to Beestone castle. My armor, provisions, everything. Send them to Beestone.” He gripped Simon’s shoulder. “Refresh yourself, and join me as soon as you can.”
“I’m coming now,” Simon said.
Ransom shrugged. “I’m not waiting for you.”
Before the candle had burned past another notch, Ransom was wearing his hauberk and a cloak and galloping out of Gison into the night.
As Ransom rode, his thoughts twisted into knots full of revenge and self-loathing. He’d been played a fool by the cloaked lady. With Ransom out of the way, Devon had been left totally unprotected. Who was a part of the plot? Sir Robert, surely, and Noemie had known. Did that mean the Occitanian king was the snake?
The woman had been watching Devon for years. Why kill him now?
No other travelers strayed across his path all night. When dawn came, he stopped to water his mount at a stream before pushing onward again. The rouncy was bred for stamina, and it sensed the concern and worry of its rider and responded with surprising resolve. His stomach growled with hunger, but he didn’t stop to feed himself. Each league increased his anxiety to arrive in time.
Ransom had been to Beestone before, during his journeys throughout the realm. It was one of the largest strongholds between Kingfountain and Tatton Grange and had withstood invasions in the past. But Devon had few resources, and Ransom wondered if the Elder King would beat him there. He vowed to himself he would not allow it to happen.
By midmorning, he finally saw Beestone on a hill in the distance, a small town nestled at its base. When he arrived, his horse was lathered but still enduring. He looked for evidence of the Elder King’s army, but the people were going about their business. Some glanced at him, but few paid him much notice.
Ransom’s horse clopped up the road leading to the gates of the castle. As he arrived, he recognized Sir Alain standing guard.
“You made it!” Alain gasped in astonishment. “I thought you’d be here this evening by the earliest, if at all!”