“We were just looking for you!” Devon said, coming to her and kissing her cheek. “But we were told you’d climbed all the way up here.” He glanced at Ransom in confusion, as if silently asking how long she’d been there.
Ransom shook his head, squinting a little to indicate it hadn’t been long.
“Why should I not wish to be with my lord husband?” she said, her accent thick as she switched to speaking in his language. “I grew miserable without my fine men.” Then she went to her brother and offered her cheek to him as well.
Prince Estian wore his typical black tunic, decorated with silver fleur-de-lis embroidery. He was a handsome man, perhaps only a few years older than Ransom. Not as tall as Ransom, or even Devon, he had a darker complexion and a clean-shaven jaw, as was the custom in Occitania. His hair was slicked back, still damp from their time in the steam rooms. He gave his sister an affectionate hug. She looked at him with a protective gaze, and although she had not answered Ransom’s question, he realized that his next challenge might be coming from the Black Prince himself.
“I have an exquisite idea, my love,” said Devon to his wife, coming and taking her hand and kissing it. “It was your brother’s idea, actually, but I’m not ashamed to take credit for it. Let’s ride to Chessy this afternoon.”
“There are no tournaments this day,” said Noemie.
“We will make one,” said Devon eagerly. “You will pick the prize.”
The princess looked troubled by the request. Her eyes went to her brother and then to her husband. “But . . . but Papa is holding a feast tonight in your honor.”
“The feasts here start so late. We’ll be back in plenty of time.”
Not with five hundred knights to rouse and muster. That alone could take half a day. Ransom had given orders for them to be on their guard and alert, not to be deceived by cups of wine offered with smiles. How many of the knights had obeyed, though?
Noemie looked worriedly at her brother. “I think it a fine thing to have a tournament. But why must it be today? There is one scheduled in a fortnight.”
Devon looked disappointed. “But I must be home by then. We must return to Westmarch. Surely we can go there and back if we travel lightly.”
Ransom’s insides twisted with concern. He wasn’t sure if he should speak up or not, but he recalled the concern in the Elder King’s voice as he urged his son to reconsider the voyage to Pree. He decided his silence would not benefit his master.
“My lord,” he said after clearing his throat.
Devon looked at him, brow furrowing.
“I would not advise going to Chessy today.”
“Why not?”
Ransom glanced at the siblings and back at his lord. “I fear it would take too long to ready your knights.”
“Then we go with those who are ready. We’re not going to be ambushed, Ransom. Estian’s men will be with us as well.”
Ransom looked at the Black Prince. “I don’t think it wise, my lord.”
“It is wise to be cautious,” said Prince Estian, meeting Ransom’s gaze. “While I agree you will be perfectly safe, Devon, there is tension between our kingdoms. Someone else might try to exploit that opportunity.”
Devon’s countenance fell as he looked back and forth between the two of them.
Princess Noemie gave Devon a coaxing smile, running her fingers through his damp hair. “Shall we not go to Chessy another day, Husband? Surely your father will permit you to attend the tournament in a fortnight?”
Devon put his hands on his hips and sighed. “Frankly, no. I don’t think he will.”
“Are you not his equal?” asked the princess, and Devon flinched. Ransom wondered if she’d said it deliberately.
Devon’s cheeks flushed. “Do you not also seek to please your father, the king?”
“Of course,” she said, giving a pretty smile. “But when I am your queen, it is my duty to please you. He will not be the king forever. We will have our turn. Hopefully, while we are both still young.”
It was said in a teasing way, and she rested her hand on his chest, looking into his eyes adoringly.
But Ransom had already seen her duplicity. He didn’t trust her at all. The Elder King had been right—they were in a den of vipers.
The royal feast was attended by all the major lords of the kingdom of Occitania. And given the copious amount of wine the guests were drinking, along with the feast of strange-smelling cheeses smeared on round biscuits and legs of meat dripping with grease, Ransom wondered if anyone else in the room was sober but himself. Devon laughed and seemed to be enjoying himself, surrounded as he was by nobles who were going out of their way to praise him and insinuate themselves in his favor.