Ronan’s hand moved comfortingly along my back. “You’re worried, even after I told you Wolfson was charged with the crime?”
A mistake on my part. Only Ronan and I knew Wolfson wasn’t the cause. I gulped and was glad he couldn’t see that action. “But certainly more than one wizard is required to take another’s mark. He must have at least one partner here at court. Perhaps several.”
I hadn’t realized Ronan was tense until I felt him relax. He didn’t know I’d heard his pronouncement to the wizards that one man alone was responsible for Redboot’s death.
“I’m sure I can handle any enemies of the king.”
Such overconfidence was dangerous. I straightened, pulling away from him. “Have you any idea how many enemies the king has? Have you never heard of the renegades?”
“Yes,” he said with a derisive cough. “I’ve heard of them.”
A chill went through me. No sympathy colored his response. I was almost afraid to ask the next question. “Do you track down the renegades and kill them like Wolfson did?”
“I don’t do anything like Wolfson did. The man had little more understanding than his beast and less finesse.”
Not a better answer. “So, you track down renegades with more finesse, people who simply want their freedom?” I’d said too much, but I couldn’t take back my words.
Ronan’s gaze snapped to mine. “I protect the king. I don’t track down or battle anyone who hasn’t already decided to fight against him.” Ronan spoke like he was self-evidently in the right.
I couldn’t leave it alone. I couldn’t leave him smugly standing on his high ground, dismissing every belief I’d fought for. “The morality of owning people doesn’t trouble you?”
A flicker of something went through his eyes, some small discomfort. “Parents own their children to the same degree. Do you suppose that an evil as well?”
“Parents love their children and so do what’s best for them. Masters have no such love.”
“Bad parents and bad masters don’t. Good ones do. We both grew up with a bad mage and that tainted our experience.” He put his hand on mine in an encouraging manner. “But one must rise above such beginnings. Surely your time at Carendale castle wasn’t so filled with deprivations. Lord Haddock is a generous man toward those in his household, treating them like family.”
Well, if he was, he didn’t bother to find out what went on in his kitchen. “Cook Fletcher hated me and tried to starve me. I rarely saw Lord Haddock.”
Ronan winced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” He shifted on the bench, his hand falling away from mine. “Did you manage to get food?”
“Yes, I became invisible and stole it.”
He nodded, relieved. I also could read him well. He was pained at inadvertently being the cause of my hunger but could comfort himself that the magic he’d given me had been its reprieve.
He cleared his throat. “Your unfortunate experience with the cook shows that masters aren’t the sole source of oppression, nor can one uproot it by doing away with the nobility. Human nature is the cause. The good will be good, and we must minimize or do away with the bad as we’re able.” He lifted a hand to me, offering me as proof. “I’m sure you treat your servants at Paxworth well. Better than well, I imagine. You probably feed every urchin who finds his way to the kitchen and let your tenants give you promises in lieu of rent.”
I couldn’t deny that. Lady Edith and I had done both on occasion. “But bad masters aren’t held accountable. No one cares that their servants are overworked or underfed or are fed to beasts on their master’s whim.”
“A good king encourages his nobles to treat their servants fairly and kindly. And for the most part, they do.”
“For the most part?” I repeated. “What do you know of a servant’s lot?”
“I know King Leofric treats his servants well. That’s why they’re loyal to him.” Ronan’s expression grew solemn and his jaw tight. “Last year when the king’s boat sank, several servants risked the icy waters, trying to save the queen and prince. Sadly, those servants died beside their masters. The boat’s sinking wasn’t an accident, as some have suggested. It was an executed attack by at least one renegade. Perhaps the whole organization.”
My face flushed. I hoped in the low light, he couldn’t tell. “How do you know?”
“Because the king didn’t drown, but a man sitting on shore did.”
Meaning the wizard’s protection against assassins had been triggered and backlashed against the would-be assassin. The scenario was horrifying to consider—the queen, the prince, and their servants had all died. Pointlessly. Tragically. Was this the attempt that Master Grey and Madam Sutton had casually mentioned when they recruited me for this mission? Had they seen the king’s family and servants as expendable?
“And that,” Ronan said, “is why I fight the renegades.”
Ronan’s motives seemed so reasonable when explained his way. Perhaps he even believed the renegades to be unjustified malcontents. He made King Leofric seem like he could march up to the cathedral and take his place with the saints.
But part of King Leofric’s wealth—part of this massive castle and all its fineries—came from the sweat and toil of the servants, from those who enjoyed so very few fruits of their labors. I’d been part of that class. I knew one thing for certain: owning servants for twenty years was wrong.
I needed to keep that fact firmly in my mind.