Page 35 of Water Dragon
“To take your credibility as ruler away… As with the uprisings in Fawha, it could be meant as a means to pollute the people’s good opinion of you. Or perhaps the opinion of the highborn, whom you need at your side if you’re to continue your father’s legacy and keep the kingdom prosperous. If you lose their support it will be easier to take the crown from you, to dismantle the House of Water… To eliminate the watermagic.”
Malcolm grew thoughtful at that.
“I don’t feel different,” he mused, looking down at his hands. “I feel fine. If the spell had some other purpose, then what might it be?”
“I don’t know,” Iona said. “But we’d better make absolutely certain. The arrowhead went deep, Mal. If the spell was meant to affect the elemental magic… It could be bound to your blood. It might be untraceable unless you do something specific or…”
“Or the moment of transference is initiated,” Malcolm finished.
They both turned grave at that thought, Malcolm thinking there was a sudden tautness within him, as if something unseen was tangling itself through his veins.
“The only question is why Sir Patrick would risk his standing, not to mention gamble with his own life, in order to aid whoever is truly behind this,” Iona said. “It still makes little sense to me. It’s too out of character for him.”
“He was made to do it,” Malcolm said, getting to his feet as the puzzle pieces seemed to be fitting themselves together now that they’d grasped at the first few. “They have some hold over him or he would never have taken it upon himself, no matter what the cause might be.”
“Sir Patrick only cares about Sir Patrick,” Iona agreed, then her gaze darkened. She got to her feet as well, reaching for Malcolm’s hand. “This is far from over, Mal.”
“Yes,” Malcolm said. “It’s only just starting,” he added, squeezing her hand gently.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? About the king’s moot and… all of it?” she asked.
He had no ready answer. He had always included her in everything, had need of her council, of her support. But this had felt so far beyond him that he couldn’t possibly ask her to give him perspective on what the right course of action was. He had, instead, deferred to his father’s good judgment and simply followed his lead.
“I couldn’t,” he finally said, and she seemed to understand.
“What now?” she asked.
“I believe we should speak to Sir Patrick,” he said. “If he was coerced into this—”
“What if he wasn’t?” she interjected. “What if he’s simply fed up? What if he was willing to risk it all for the possibility of being richly rewarded, should the conspiracy play out?”
“Then he will spend his days in a cell,” Malcolm replied simply. “But if he can be reasoned with. If he can give us even the smallest clue.”
“What if he has magic,” she said. “He might have cast the spell himself and if you go before him, he might—”
Malcolm stopped her with a shake of his head.
“I cannot sit here and do nothing,” he said.
She smiled then.
“You sound like a king,” she said.
“It’s about time I begin acting like one,” he stated. “My whole life, I’ve played it very safe. I’ve thought peace could only be upheld by being peaceful, but I mistook peace for complacency. I simply let people behave however they wished towards me and thought no more of it than them simply being who they were, but… I need to hold myself to a higher standard than that. Those I surround myself with should reflect my values—I should not be made to absorb theirs and pretend their slights and offences do not matter. I’ve never done well with confrontation, but perhaps it is time to do well with earnest discussion.”
“So, you wish to go down into the cells and have an earnest discussion with Sir Patrick?” Iona asked, a small smile on her mouth.
“Yes,” Malcolm agreed. “Exactly that.”
“And if he does not wish to speak with you?”
“He will,” Malcolm said, self-assuredly. “He will want to gloat, no matter his motivation for doing what he’s done. He unseated me. He will wish to discuss that in great detail.”
He glanced at the left-over food, his appetite leaving him at the thought of facing his opponent. He would have to stand before a knight he had thought of as his most formidable and posit all the questions that needed answering. What if he got no clarification whatsoever? What if whatever spell had been cast on him was irreversible and all that Sir Patrick would gloat about was that fact?
Better to know than to not know, Malcolm told himself.
“Will you accompany me?” he asked Iona, who looked grave, but nodded.
