The Thief's Daughter (Kingfountain #2)

The look on King Severn’s face was dangerous when he heard the news. He wiped his forearm across the stubble on his chin, his eyes dark with rage. “My brother’s standard? Well, we will see if he deserves to keep it.”


The messenger said at least three hundred men had disembarked from the fleet with horses, pavilions, and poleaxes.

After receiving the news, Owen and King Severn rode the remainder of the night, without rest, to reach the town of Blackpool. Owen’s stomach seethed with worry. He had not suspected he would be riding into another battle so close on the heels of the previous one.




Dawn found them at the beaches of Blackpool amidst the carnage of a battle.

It had ended before they arrived.

Owen sat in his saddle, gazing down at the dead men, punctured by arrows and lying in the frothing surf. Battle standards with the Sun and Rose were splayed here and there, mostly soaked, torn, and broken. His mind was still reeling from the news.

Elysabeth Victoria Mortimer had ridden to Blackpool from Dundrennan, and she had defeated the pretender’s army.

Prisoners were being held in stockades at Blackpool, awaiting the king’s justice. The pretender, Eyric, had escaped with the remnants of the fleet, but his army had been bested by a seventeen-year-old girl.

“My lord!” someone shouted from afar. Owen turned in his saddle to watch as a messenger wearing the lion badge of Duke Horwath hastened to him. It was Evie’s chamberlain, a man named Rigby whom Owen knew well.

“Rigby!” Owen shouted in surprise, smiling at the man’s obvious enthusiasm.

“My lord,” Rigby said with a formal bow. “My lady awaits you and the king at the Arthington, one of the nicer inns in town. I thought it best I should tell you first. She’s anxious to see you, my lord. I’m to fetch the king next. Go.”

Owen didn’t need any persuading.

His heart beat more furiously as he rode into town. The streets were in commotion, and people everywhere were waving Duke Horwath’s banner of the pierced lion with jubilation. Owen quickly found the Arthington, a cheerful two-story dwelling. After entrusting his weary horse to a page, he hurried toward the common room of the inn, which had been emptied in anticipation of the king’s arrival. People in the streets began to shout about the imminent arrival of Severn, and the crowds suddenly swelled and moved toward the ruler, like a river of bodies flooding the town. Cheers and acclaims rang out.

Before Owen even reached the door to the inn, it flung open. There she was on the threshold, as if stepping out of a dream. She looked like she had not slept. Her dark hair was a bit windblown, but it was freshly braided. He saw a bit of goose down woven into the braid by her left ear. As part of an ongoing jest between them, she sometimes did that to mimic the white patch in his hair. Her eyes, the same green as her gown today, were eager to find his. There was a dagger fastened to her girdle, which was new, and she had on the sturdy leather boots and scarf she always wore when they climbed up into the waterfalls together.

“Owen,” she breathed, staring at him with relief, like she had been the one worrying about him all along.

She ran into his arms and hugged him so tightly it hurt, pressing her cheek against his chest and swaying slightly. After days in the saddle, nights under the stars, and rations only a soldier could eat, she felt too good to be real. She was soft and warm, and her hair smelled like home.

“Are you all right?” he demanded, grabbing her by the shoulders to look her in the face.

His eyes found the dimple at the corner of her mouth. He sometimes imagined what it would be like to kiss that dimple, but he didn’t dare do it.

“Come inside—there is so much to tell you!” Evie said, hugging him once more and squeezing him even harder this time. “I was not expecting you for another day. I’m hardly presentable.”

“You’re hardly presentable!” Owen said in dismay. “I smell like the stables!”

“Yes, you do,” she said, crinkling her nose. “You can bathe later. The king will want to hear this too, but I have to tell you! I don’t mind saying it twice. Come with me!”

She tugged at his hand, and Owen caught sight of Justine, Evie’s maid, standing just within the threshold of the inn. She was Evie’s constant companion and chaperone, always there to keep the two young people from being alone. Dark-haired and rather serious, she was the daughter of Lord Camber, whose father served Horwath. Justine was the guardian of Evie’s virtue, a constant and subtle reminder that, although Owen and Evie had been friends since they were children, there were certain prohibitions between the sexes.

Justine gave Owen a shy smile, as she usually did, and inclined her head in respect. He returned that smile with a nod as Evie flew past her friend and dragged Owen into the common room by the hand.

“Sit there while I tell you!” she said breathlessly, flinging him toward a large stuffed couch. Her hands were shaking a little, as if her excitement were too keen to be contained inside her body. Justine quietly took a seat in a nearby chair, folding her hands in her lap.

Owen was starving, but he was too interested in hearing Evie’s story to consider eating.

“What happened?” he demanded. “When I first saw the battlefield, it made me worry even more.”

She shook her head. “There’s no need. The dead are Legaultan mercenaries mostly. More eager to get back to the boats than they were to fight the stout men who serve my grandfather. Many of the poor souls drowned trying to escape. So let me tell you about this imposter. I loathe the man. What fools does he take us for? His ships were sighted off the coast, so I gave the order that any who came upon them were to welcome them as if the imposter did indeed have the right to the crown.”

“You did what?” Owen demanded, astonished.

She grinned mischievously. “How many times have we discussed history, Owen? How many princes were duped by the promises of others? This pretender is trying to dupe the world into believing he’s truly Eyric Argentine! Well, two can throw dice, as Mancini likes to say. As soon as they landed, I had one of my trusted men ride into the camp to demand to know who kept the standard of the Sun and Rose. They said it was for King Eyric Argentine, who was aboard the ships. My man claimed that if Eyric came to camp, he’d be welcomed by the citizenry as the new king.” She frowned. “But he was too wary. He refused to come ashore. I think he just didn’t trust we were sincere. There were at least three hundred of his men ashore by this time, and more coming every hour. I knew that if I waited until all their full force had disembarked, we’d be outnumbered.”

“But why aren’t you at your grandfather’s castle?” Owen asked. “Evie, truly! You put yourself in great danger by coming here. What if they’d caught you?”