The Thief's Daughter Read Online Free Page A

lands border each other. We should be allies.”
    The marshal’s brow knitted darkly. “I will tell her you said so,” he said stiffly. Then he turned and rode back, his armed knights following him back into the maze of flapping tents and groans.
    Owen turned to Horwath, whose eyes bore a distrusting look.
    The grizzled duke rubbed his chin. “It was interesting that his knights attacked Chatriyon’s army at exactly the same time as ours did. It was almost as if . . .”
    “They were expecting us,” Owen said softly, frowning.

CHAPTER THREE
    Resurgence

    Later that morning, Owen’s pavilion was full of men, and it was all he could do to curb their enthusiasm. King Chatriyon VIII’s army had been routed and was still fleeing, nipped at the heels by Brythonic knights. The king had made it to the safety of a castle deeper in his own territory, and word of the victory was spreading throughout the hamlets of eastern Occitania. Owen’s captains had achieved victory without a single injury, a feat that had earned him enormous respect and gratitude. Young Kiskaddon’s gifts from the Fountain did not just extend to dreams of the future, it was whispered; he had an unparalleled ability for combat too.
    “My lord,” Farnes said as the herald butted his way through two captains. He swiped his hand through his graying reddish hair. A grin threatened to break through his normally placid composure—and then did. “My lord, the mayor of Averanche has arrived with a delegation from the city.” His lips quivered with suppressed delight. “They’ve come . . . well, they’ve come to surrender their castle and city to you and swear loyalty to Ceredigion.”
    Owen was taken aback. “Did I hear you correctly, Farnes? A town wants to surrender before we’ve attacked it? Where is Averanche? I need a map.”
    “Over here, my lord,” said Captain Ashby.
    Owen looked at Duke Horwath in disbelief, shrugging his shoulders and stifling a chuckle. Ashby brought over the map, and several men crowded around the precious document, trying to find the location of Averanche.
    Owen shooed them away and motioned for Farnes and the duke to join him, and together they pored over the cartographer’s map. There was so little they knew of Occitania and her cities and duchies. The coastal ports were well marked, but the information about the interior castles and towns was vague. King Severn had a host of mapmakers under his employ, and the Espion had the most accurate maps of anyone, but they were guarded as state secrets. He couldn’t find Averanche.
    “Well, Farnes, bring them in and they can point it out to us,” Owen said, clapping the herald on the back. Farnes chuckled and quickly left the tent.
    Owen looked up at the captains clustered around the small space. “Start to break camp,” he ordered. “Change the guard and get ready to move. Await your orders.”
    “Yes, my lord,” Captain Ashby said. The others hustled out of the tent, leaving only Owen and Duke Horwath.
    “I can’t abide crowds,” Owen muttered. “Everyone wants to see you for some reason. There’s never a moment’s peace. What do you make of this development?”
    Horwath frowned and gazed down at the map. “There is a long history of war between our kingdoms, lad. This could be a stronghold that benefits us later. Years ago we took Callait from Brugia, and it’s still a strategic port city for us on that continent. I’m sure the lord mayor doesn’t have enough men to defend his town, and what few he had fled with the king’s army last night. It’s like Wizr. You just made a strong move that your opponent wasn’t expecting. They’re vulnerable now, and we both know it.”
    Farnes returned with the mayor of Averanche, a short, squat man with a gray beard and only a few strands of hair atop his waxy, sweating head. After a short, formal introduction, Owen learned that Averanche was a short distance away, with a castle along the coast, right on the