by Jeff Wheeler
She had to return to Kingfountain to speak with the king, but she dared not leave Rucrius behind in Brythonica. There was no end to the havoc he could unleash on her people. With his power, he could seek out and dismantle the barriers that kept the tides at bay. No, he could not be kept in Ploemeur.
As sunrise finally began to cast away the shadows of night, she sat up in her bed in her nightclothes, staring at the brightening sky, arms crossed and resting on her knees. The realization struck her that she had defeated a portion of Gahalatine’s forces. The other three locations he’d attacked had been lost. What would Gahalatine do when he discovered the attack on Ploemeur had ended in failure? It was likely his first. A small smile twitched on her mouth, bringing with it a little shiver. Would he come for her himself next time?
Once again, her mind turned to the conundrum of Gahalatine. Though there was no doubting his ambition or his pride, there was goodness in him. Surely he had sensed that Rucrius was evil. Perhaps many of the Wizrs in his court were, but he lacked the power to overthrow them. He had sought her father’s guidance—and it seemed as if the Wizrs had kidnapped Owen to keep that from happening.
Was Rucrius right? Was Gahalatine in search of a consort? Would the emperor wish to make Trynne, who shared her father’s power, his queen? A small flush started on her cheeks.
Where was Gahalatine at that moment, she wondered. On one of his massive treasure ships? Back at the Forbidden Court speaking to his new hostages? Trynne imagined Lady Evie standing up to him in her outspoken way and the thought made her laugh.
She rested her cheek on her arms, wondering what to do. If she could not leave Rucrius in his cell, then she would need to take him with her to Kingfountain as her prisoner. She would not give him access to the staff or the scroll, both of which she’d hidden.
Rising from her bed, she quickly changed into a new dress and brushed the tangles out of her hair. If only there was a way to get Rucrius to volunteer the information she wanted. Her arm stopped midstroke, still holding the brush.
A poisoner could do it. Her father had told her of the properties of nightshade and how Ankarette had used it to learn information from people. Afterward, he’d said, the people who had divulged their secrets did not even recall doing so.
Morwenna. Even though Trynne did not trust her, she might still be useful.
The rush of the Fountain swept through Trynne as she left Ploemeur with Rucrius. As they shot through the ley lines, she felt the Wizr battle her for control of the destination and experienced a wrenching feeling that tried to pull her along the southern line instead of the eastern one. His will was strong, but his magic could not force her to abandon her desire or her goal. She could not be brought off course by his disruption.
They appeared inside the gurgling waters of one of the palace’s fountains.
As they stood in the waters, Trynne wrenched Rucrius’s arm behind his back at an angle that was excruciatingly painful. His brow wrinkled, but he kept himself from grimacing. She could see that he resented the indignity of being roughly treated by her.
“You will submit and walk with me side by side,” Trynne said, “or I will knock you unconscious myself and have soldiers drag you in front of my king in a heap.”
Rucrius glowered at her, but he could not speak. His mouth was gagged to prevent him from uttering any words of power. There was no torchlight in the small chapel, so his eyes no longer glowed like a cat’s. He inclined his head submissively, but his cheek twitched.
Trynne stepped over the rim of the fountain and they were immediately met by knights wearing the livery of the Sun and Rose.
“Lady Trynne!” one of them said, gawking in surprise when he saw her prisoner.
“Where is the king?” she asked, starting to march down the corridor, her hand gripping Rucrius’s fingers. It was easier to control someone that way; she could immobilize the Wizr quickly if he tried another rash act. Her heart was still palpitating from their struggle along the ley lines. Had she not been anticipating such an act, she may have found herself in the Forbidden Court.
“He’s at the Ring Table,” the soldier answered. He barked a quick command, and one of the knights ran ahead.
Being away from Ploemeur gave Trynne a feeling of vulnerability. She had warned the palace staff to keep her departure a secret. While the other survivors of the shipwrecks did not seem like a threat, she worried that the fleet from Legault would swoop down on them next. The protection she owed her people weighed heavily on her.
As they approached the audience hall, muted murmuring could be heard from the open doorway where the guards were stationed. As soon as Trynne entered the hall, the conversation cut off. Duke Ramey’s jaw went slack at the sight of the captured Wizr. Queen Genevieve was there, cradling her baby in her arms, and she looked at Trynne in wonderment. King Drew was standing, his fists planted on the table, his mouth still open to deliver whatever remark he’d intended to make to Duke Severn. Fallon was seated in the chair called the Siege Perilous, his elbows on the rests, his fingers splayed. He watched her enter, his expression brooding and somber, and then his gaze shifted to Rucrius, whom he regarded with open enmity.
Elwis, who had been pacing around the table, halted when he noticed her. He looked relieved to see her, but also very agitated.
Drew spoke first. “We were attacked by Gahalatine’s forces in four locations at once. To execute such a precise strike across such great distances must have required knowledge and power beyond anything we have yet experienced from our enemy. Three lands have fallen to the might of Gahalatine. But one of ours prevailed. My sister brought me the good news, Trynne.” He smiled and shook his head. “So it is true? Brythonica has not fallen?”
“We stand ready to defend the hollow crown, my king,” Trynne said humbly, bowing her head. “I have brought the Wizr Rucrius as a prisoner. He is dangerous still and his words are powerful.”
Duke Severn straightened, folding his arms. “Then let’s be done with him,” he offered with a cold look. “Send him to Dundrennan, my lord. Chain him to the rock. Let him speak to the ice and wind.”
“I will gladly take him there if you bid me, my lord,” Fallon said. He had not stopped staring at Rucrius, his eyes burning with anger. “I suspect he knows where Lord Owen is. And my mother.”
Genevieve continued to rock from foot to foot, patting the babe’s back gently, but there was a thoughtful look in her eyes.
The Wizr’s gaze was disdainful as he looked on his captors. He did not seem like a defeated enemy, even with the gag in his mouth.
“Take him to Holistern Tower,” the king ordered. “He will only be ungagged in the presence of my sister and Lord Amrein to eat his food. Death will be your reward if you defy me, Rucrius,” Drew said with a stern and hard edge in his voice. “When you last troubled us with your presence, I ordered Lord Owen to arrest you. I am grateful his daughter has fulfilled that command. Take him away and alert me when my sister returns.”
“I am here,” Morwenna said, shutting the paneled door behind her. She had just entered the room from one of the secret Espion passages, her hair windblown. She gazed at Rucrius in surprise. “Where is your staff, Wizr?” she asked, despite his inability to respond.
“I took it from him,” Trynne answered. The way Morwenna had asked about it disturbed her.
Severn’s daughter blinked as she turned. “Well done, Trynne. In my errands to the East, I learned that Rucrius was the Wizr entrusted with the Fault Staff. It is a relic with great power.”
“It is safe where I have hidden it,” Trynne answered vaguely. She did not mention the Tay al-Ard. She did not trust Morwenna to be alone with Rucrius and would have objected if the king hadn’t demanded that Kevan also be present at the inquisition. Her father had always trusted the master of the Espion.
“What would you have me do, Brother?” Morwenna asked, smiling at him. “You were going to send for me?”
“Go with Lord Amrein and take Rucrius to Hol
istern. See that he is fed, but do not allow him to speak. We will discuss his fate in council.”
“As you will, my lord,” Morwenna said with a bow. Lord Amrein summoned a group of knights, and together they left through the door of the audience hall. Trynne saw Fallon rise from his chair and whisper something to Morwenna. The poisoner nodded briefly before leaving with the group that had fallen in around the prisoner. Rather than sit down, Fallon leaned against the back of his chair. As Trynne stared at him, she felt distrust welling up from deep inside her.
“Trynne, how did you do it?” Genevieve asked, coming toward her, concern nakedly evident on her face. “The fleet . . . Gahalatine . . . how? All the other places that were attacked crumpled.”
She was still weary from all the work they’d done to rescue the survivors, exhausted from the lack of sleep. She met Genny with a gentle hug, careful not to press against the baby.
“Gahalatine’s fleet was disrupted by a rogue wave that struck our shores,” she said, not wanting to reveal the full truth in front of the gathered audience. Of those present, the only people she felt she could trust without reserve were the king and queen. “Our navy was patrolling outside the cove when it struck. I consider it a blessing from the Deep Fathoms that protected us.” What she said was truthful. But she withheld the rest to be told later in confidence.
Turning to face the king, she said, “Rucrius confessed that Gahalatine struck Atabyrion, Legault, Brythonica, and the capital of Brugia . . . Marq. How did those other attacks happen? Marq especially, as it is accessible by river, but not by an entire fleet.”
Drew’s exultant look diminished. “Lord Elwis?” he said, waving his hand with a gesture of weariness.
Elwis looked chagrined. “What we did not know, Trynne, was that for weeks prior, Gahalatine had been sending confederates into Marq. They were Brugians from Guilme, men and women who had been living under his rule for the last year. Apparently,” he added, scratching his neck with discomfort, “they were convinced of the justness of Gahalatine’s cause. Guilme has prospered this last year, enjoying an uncommon surge of wealth.”
“They’ve been bribed, you mean?” Trynne said, frowning.
Elwis shrugged. “Yes, it could be called that. Gahalatine has showered riches and treasure on the city, opening it to ports and splendors they never had access to previously. Even the lowliest merchants became wealthy . . . nearly overnight. Gahalatine appealed also to their dissatisfaction with how long the war with Kingfountain lasted. Our treasury was nearly emptied to pay for the war. Times have been hard. Suddenly, every man jack is rich.” He shook his head. “Let’s just say there was no shortage of willing confederates who were eager to conquer Marq. My forces were patrolling the coast with a minimal guard at the capital. I truly expected he’d bring his fleet to Guilme again. Retaking my city will not be easy.”
Genevieve touched Trynne’s shoulder. “The same pattern has happened in Atabyrion and Legault. When faced with a choice of fighting to the death or accepting unbounded wealth? Gahalatine is winning their hearts quickly through their purses. If he were murdering innocents and burning fields, it would give the people something to rally against.”
“But where is he getting all this treasure to hand out these bribes?” Trynne asked, feeling conflicted by the news. She respected that Gahalatine was not using cruelty to conquer their land. He’d claimed all along that his goal was to depose corrupt leadership and improve the living conditions for the common people. But what would happen once he’d conquered the world and couldn’t use the riches of one kingdom to bribe the next?
“We don’t know,” Drew said, shaking his head. He glanced at his wife and then back at Trynne. Genevieve kissed her baby girl’s cheek before returning her gaze to Trynne.
“Perhaps you can find that out for us,” Drew said in a low, steady voice. “I would like to send you and Morwenna to the Forbidden Court. Gahalatine’s fleet is raking our borders. I cannot even imagine the vastness of his resources. His army will continue to grow as he finds those willing to believe in his vision and leadership. We need to find his weakness.” He glanced at his wife once again and Genevieve nodded. “And to rescue our lost friends.”
Trynne saw Fallon start, his brow furrowing with worry and concern. He clenched his fists and opened his mouth as if to demand that he come with them. He was the king’s champion now. He had won the Gauntlet of Kingfountain.
But he surprised her by saying nothing.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The Greatest Power
There was a special kind of magic in a baby’s laughter, Trynne realized. She watched from the entryway to the nursery as the queen rubbed baby Kathryn’s feet together and then nuzzled them with her nose and lips until the little giggles erupted spontaneously again. The emotions Trynne felt surge inside her were so akin to the rushing feeling of Fountain magic that it filled her heart and added to her reservoir. She leaned her head against the doorjamb, soaking in the tender moment, watching the pure joy of a mother who loved her child. In that moment, Genny was like any mother in the kingdom. Her child just a child, not a princess. The simple beauty of it overshadowed the looming threat of Gahalatine’s invasion.
“How does it feel to be a mother?” Trynne asked softly from the doorway, enjoying the moment—hungering even for it to happen someday to her.
Genny was startled, but she didn’t stop showering her baby girl with kisses. “Trynne, it is the most wonderful thing in the world. And the most frightening. I haven’t decided which feeling is stronger.” She gently wagged the babe’s foot, giving it one more kiss. “I adore everything about her. Her eyelashes. The little nails that fit so perfectly. So tiny. And yet I fear for her. What sort of world will she inherit? Will it be Gahalatine’s? Or her father’s?” She sighed.
“She’ll inherit the world we leave her,” Trynne said. It made her feel fraught with purpose.
“And what kind of world will that be?” Genny said, not really posing it as a question. She reached out and ran her thumb down Kathryn’s little nose and the baby squirmed.
“I didn’t truly understand what love was before she was born,” the queen continued after a long pause. “I love my mother and father. I’ve always loved them. I loved your father for saving me from being swept away by the river. He risked his life to save mine, and I’ve never forgotten it. I’ve also loved my husband since we were children ourselves. I didn’t know what that feeling was at first, but Drew always fascinated me, even when I was too young to understand why. As we grew older, I hoped he would choose me as his bride, but I did not think it possible.” She flushed a little at the confession, casting a vulnerable look Trynne’s way. “Then I learned that he had chosen me over so many others, others who would have brought peace to his realm sooner. Others who would have brought him more beauty. More refinement.” She pursed her lips. “Isn’t it tragic how we women always compare ourselves to one another? Comparing our faults to others’ perfections? When Drew chose me, I thought I knew the meaning of love.” Then she shook her head and caressed the babe’s cheek with the edge of her knuckle. “I didn’t think my heart could grow any bigger, but it did. It wasn’t until this little girl wriggled out of my body amidst the greatest pain I’ve ever felt that I realized how big love could be. My heart swelled and swelled and it hasn’t stopped swelling yet.” She blinked away tears and dabbed them against her wrist. “Look at me, I am a mother! I’ll be weeping over sunsets ere long.”
She turned to face Trynne with a serious air. “I have a mission for you.”
“I assumed that is why you summoned me,” Trynne answered, feeling her heart twist with a little tug of envy. Genevieve had found her love. Trynne worried if she ever would. So many of the people she loved had been taken from her.
“I am so sorry about your brother,” Genny said, as if reading her thoughts. “Words fail me. I cannot imagine how Lady Sinia will feel when she returns to Brythonica. How you must feel. I’m sorry that we must ask you to
leave your home at such a perilous time. I know you are responsible for maintaining the protections of Brythonica, and that your duchy is still at risk from the fleet in Legault. I wish we could send more soldiers to defend your lands, but all our forces are stretched impossibly.”
“Loyalty binds me,” Trynne whispered thickly, repeating the motto her father had inherited from Duke Severn. Her family and Genny’s had always been close. She couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t known Lady Evie and Iago. Fallon had been a young boy when Trynne was born, and they’d spent a good part of their childhoods together.
Genny shuddered at the words. “I need to speak with you about something I didn’t dare mention in front of Duke Severn.”
“What do you mean?” Trynne asked, leaning away from the wall and stepping closer to her friend.
“Let me just say that I’ve come to doubt Morwenna Argentine’s loyalty. Fallon has shared some facts with me. Some suspicions.”
Trynne’s eyebrow arched. “Like what?”
“Things he has already confided in you,” she answered. “He’s my brother first and foremost. We have always been close. He was right, you know. He was the one who predicted how Gahalatine would invade.”
Trynne bit her lip, wondering if she would speak the words, but she decided she must. “Did he predict it? Or did he already know?”
Genny looked at her seriously, not startled by the accusation. “Sometimes little doubts whisper to me. Like when I learned that your little brother died in that accident. It kept . . . it kept the Painted Knight from competing in the Gauntlet.” Genny wrung her hands. “But I cannot believe it of him, Trynne. No, I cannot believe he would stoop to murder. He still carries such a burden of grief about your childhood injury. He blames himself for leaving the castle that day, for being greedy about pies. Even now, he still thinks if he’d stayed with you . . . well, it’s so easy to torment ourselves with what might have been. The Fountain could have prevented Dragan’s attack against you. The Fountain could have healed you. Yet it did not. We all must play a purpose in this world, Trynne. I think you are here to protect and defend my husband and his throne. You are truly the king’s champion. But at this moment, you must be your queen’s.”
