The Silent Shield (The Kingfountain Series Book 5)

by Jeff Wheeler

  The sharp clash of the horses’ hooves against the flagstones changed when they reached the wooden drawbridge of the fortress. Trynne craned her neck, looking up at the ramparts patrolled by knights holding spears and pennants. She was worried about meeting Fallon, but determined to speak openly with him. She needed to know about his connection with Morwenna. Needed to know what he knew.

  The inner bailey was teeming with servants who led their weary mounts away to feed them fresh provender. A few young boys with shovels stayed behind to scoop up the filth left by some of the horses.

  There he was among his men, giving orders and seeing to the needs of the arrivals. Fallon stood a head above his fellows, and it struck her anew how very tall and manly he had become. He looked as if he hadn’t shaved in days. When he glanced her way, their eyes met and she felt a jolt in her heart at the look he gave her—one of utter relief. She felt the same way. Despite all her questions, it soothed her heart to see him unharmed.

  “My lord,” Fallon said as he came forward and bowed before the king’s horse. “Welcome back to Dundrennan. Although our food is being rationed in preparation for a siege, I’m sure we can find something to please you. Many people are waiting to speak to you, but you must also be very weary from the journey. The state rooms have been prepared for your arrival.”

  “Thank you, Fallon,” Drew said with a sigh. “I would appreciate a moment of quiet. My ears are still ringing.”

  “Cousin Trynne seems to be in good health,” he said blandly, giving her a mocking smile.

  But the pleasure of seeing a glimpse of his old self passed her like a shallow wave. She felt and sensed the presence of another Fountain-blessed, one with enormous power, and a feeling of deep foreboding made her hand reach for her sword pommel.

  Morwenna strode into the bailey from the castle. She was no longer wearing the same gown that Trynne had last seen her in. This one was an eye-catching silk brocade with a low neckline. Morwenna’s face was flushed as she pushed through the crowd, her eyes wide with panic until she saw him.

  “Father!” she called worriedly, rushing up to Duke Severn as he led his horse by the reins. She clung to him, burying her face against his chest, her shoulders heaving with emotion. Severn murmured gently to her, stroking her black hair in a tender gesture that made Trynne feel helplessly conflicted.

  Trynne felt Morwenna’s magic ebb as she calmed herself. Trynne shouldn’t have been surprised to find the poisoner there, yet she had been. How else had Fallon gotten to Dundrennan so quickly? Once again, she thought of the little chest of clothes beneath Morwenna’s bed in the tower.

  But the painful thoughts were pushed away when she sensed the presence of another Fountain-blessed, one within the castle itself. Was it the hunter Carrick? she wondered.

  Or was there someone else waiting for them?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Prisoner

  The fortress of Dundrennan felt more familiar to Trynne than it should given the few visits she’d made there. But so many of her father’s stories had taken place there. It made her feel connected to him, and despite her discomfort, she couldn’t resist the urge to run her hand along the wall as she walked down a torch-lit corridor. The air held the aroma of baking bread and pine sap, and her boots crunched on the green needles as she crossed the threshold into the royal residence, the room where the king and queen always stayed. Fallon was a considerate host, and food was arranged before them, invoking the pangs of hunger she’d suppressed on the journey. But she could not forget the other Fountain-blessed she’d sensed in the castle, and when she reached out with her magic to make sure the food was safe to eat, she felt the person’s power again. It was like hearing the distant chord of harp strings. It unsettled her. It made her want to investigate.

  Fallon spoke while the king ate, although he cast a quick glance at Trynne and her plate. She had not started eating yet.

  “My lord, I have no doubt that Gahalatine is coming to attack Dundrennan,” Fallon said. “I’ve sent word to rally as many of your knights as possible. The Duke of East Stowe is on his way with ten thousand. I sent a summons for Grand Duke Asturias as well.”

  “As have we,” Drew said, wiping his mouth with a napkin before he spoke. He had removed the crown and returned it to the satchel that never left his possession. “We sent word from Averanche.”

  “If we can hold off the siege,” Fallon continued, “it will give our allies a chance to flank him.”

  “How many soldiers do you have defending the castle?” Trynne asked pointedly, staring at him, unable to get over the nagging doubts that assailed her. Morwenna was there, after all, and there was still no explanation for the person whose presence she sensed.

  “Fifteen thousand men, all loyal, to a man,” Fallon answered.

  Trynne frowned. “I heard some of your soldiers were marching south.”

  He gave her a sharp look. “Who told you that? It’s not true.”

  She clenched her fist under the table. “Maybe I misunderstood.”

  Fallon nodded curtly. “I think defending Dundrennan will be much easier than trying to recapture Kingfountain. We just need to hold out and let Gahalatine lose men and nerve hammering away at our walls. He cannot dock his ships nearby, so he’ll need supply lines to feed and equip his men. I don’t think he’s prepared for a long siege.”

  There was an urgent rap on the door and Fallon scowled, having left instructions for them not to be disturbed. The door opened and Morwenna entered. Her face was flushed, her hair disheveled. Trynne felt instantly wary.

  The king turned to look at his younger sister as she approached his table. Although they shared the same mother, he had inherited his mother’s looks whereas she had inherited her father’s.

  “Morwenna,” the king said. “Would you join us?”

  “I won’t stay for long, Brother,” she said a little breathlessly. She looked at Trynne, as if only now recognizing her in her rough soldier’s garb. “Who are these women in the castle? All these maidens with swords and shields?”

  “They are my protectors,” Drew answered, his voice guarded. “You had something of importance to say. What is it?”

  Morwenna fidgeted with a ring on her finger. She cast a sidelong look at Fallon and the flush in her cheeks deepened. “I haven’t had the opportunity to speak to you. I heard that the Painted Knight saved my father’s life in battle.”

  “Indeed,” Drew answered. “I saw it.”

  “But where is he now? Was he riding in your company?” Morwenna gazed at Trynne with a hint of suspicion.

  “I have no idea,” the king replied. “He comes and he vanishes, often without saying more than a word. He said nothing when he appeared at Guilme. They call him the Painted Knight, but I think of him as my silent shield. When I am in danger, he is there.”

  Trynne felt a shiver of warmth at his words, but she kept her expression neutral, her eyes focused on Morwenna.

  “How did you escape Chandigarl?” Trynne asked suddenly, breaking the silence. She heard the accusation in her own voice, and Morwenna assuredly felt it too, for she bristled.

  “I was going to ask you the same question,” the poisoner countered. “There are no ley lines coming or going from the zenana. I heard you attacked Gahalatine.”

  The tension in the room was growing palpably. “No, I was the one who was attacked while rescuing Fallon’s mother. I brought her back with me to Kingfountain.” She looked at Fallon and added, “She helped sneak Genny away. They are safe, I believe.”

  Fallon looked dumbstruck. “You found my mother?”

  “And brought her back,” Trynne answered with a nod. “Morwenna, you have been to Chandigarl multiple times. Surely you knew that your disguise would be unmasked as we crossed the waters to the tower?”

  “Are you implying that I am in league with our enemies?” Morwenna asked, her face betraying a look of fierce anger. She turned to her brother, who had stopped eating and was staring coolly at her. T
aking a reflexive step backward, she said, “My lord, I must warn you to be wary. I believe you are in very real danger. When I last saw Trynne, we were both on a stone barge crossing the waters to the zenana. I had no idea that my illusion ring would cease working as we crossed. When the guards attacked, I had no choice but to leap off the barge into the water and swim to safety. My lord, I have contacts in the Forbidden Court, people I have bribed for information. I was told that Gahalatine has sworn an oath to marry Trynne Kiskaddon and make her Empress of Chandigarl.”

  The king pushed away from the table and came to his feet. “That is quite an accusation to make, Morwenna!”

  The poisoner nodded. “When I learned about it, I returned hastily and discovered the Wizr Rucrius had invaded the palace of Kingfountain. He was disguised as you, but I saw through his little trick. I found Lord Fallon and brought him here immediately.” She turned to face Trynne. “Do you deny this? Did not Gahalatine offer to make you his empress?”

  Trynne felt the ground beneath her had turned unstable. One wrong step and she would fall. Her stomach writhed from the confrontation, from the baseless accusations. “He did,” she answered softly. Then she turned to the king. “That part is true, my lord. He did offer to marry me. And I soundly rejected him. There is a struggle for power between Gahalatine and his Wizrs. He will not be controlled by them as other emperors were. His financial state is nearly ruined—”

  “Only the Wizrs and the Mandaryn know that,” Morwenna said. “This proves you are in league with them.”

  Trynne turned to her calmly. “I did not learn this from them. But it begs the question of how you know it?”

  “She brought Rucrius to Kingfountain,” Morwenna said with a hint of triumph. “Wasn’t he the person who spelled everyone in the castle to fall asleep?”

  “The spell came from a staff fixed atop your tower,” Trynne shot back.

  “My lord, I caught her in my tower the eve we were departing to Chandigarl.”

  “Enough!” the king said forcefully. He looked back and forth between them with growing incredulity. “You cannot both be right.”

  “Brother, you must listen to me,” Morwenna pleaded.

  “I have listened to you,” he said, holding up his hand to silence her. “The greatest gift from the Fountain is the blessing of discernment. I cannot pretend that I understand the intricacies of this situation, but I trust Trynne with my life. If she were in league with Rucrius, she could have delivered me into his hands. You have always claimed to be loyal to me, Sister. Now is your opportunity to prove where your loyalties lie. Choose well. Lord Fallon, arrest her and confine her in the dungeon.”

  Morwenna drew a dagger.

  Where she’d concealed it, Trynne didn’t know, but her magic screamed a warning at her. There was a look of utter hatred in the poisoner’s eyes. Trynne was about to step forward and block the king’s body with her own, hoping she was fast enough to deflect the dagger if it was thrown, when the weapon suddenly thumped onto the floor.

  Morwenna’s eyes had cooled. “As you command, my lord. I plead my innocence in laying down my knife. I will suffer the indignity of a cell to prove myself to you. I knew you would take her side over mine.” She turned to the duke, whose eyes were wide with shock, and said, “Fallon, you know I’d never hurt you. I will go willingly.”

  Fallon’s cheek twitched as he stepped forward. “Morwenna Argentine, I arrest you on command of His Majesty.”

  Morwenna held up her hands to him, wrists held together. Fallon gripped her by the arm, not gently, and escorted her from the room.

  Drew leaned back against the table after they had left. “By the Fountain,” he said with a gasp, clutching his throat as if he’d just escaped being strangled. “I scarcely know what to say or think.”

  “Poisoners are trained to be clever,” Trynne said with a small laugh. She was trembling inside at how close it had come to violence. She’d felt danger moments before Morwenna had dropped that knife. The lack of food had not only made her famished but light-headed as well.

  “So it’s true,” Drew said with a mocking smile. “Gahalatine proposed to you?”

  She shrugged, tilting her head to one side. “Yes, I could say that he did.”

  “You could have told me.”

  “I think jumping into the cesspit with you may have distracted me,” Trynne countered. She wrung her hands, beginning to pace. Was Fallon loyal? He had arrested Morwenna, but was he just as compromised as she was? She knew what she wanted to believe, but she couldn’t let her feelings for him blind her.

  “While secrets are being laid bare,” she went on, “I have also sensed another Fountain-blessed here in the castle.”

  “Duke Severn?” the king prompted.

  “No, I already knew about him, and his power is mostly spent for the time being. There is someone else. I feel it nagging at me. I’m conflicted, my lord. Can we trust Fallon? One of the maidens, who is from Dundrennan, told me ere we arrived that the garrison had been marched away to defend Kingfountain. An Espion told us the same. Fallon has flatly denied it.” She turned her head, trying to conceal her confusion. “I did go to Morwenna’s tower before we left. I found . . . I found some of Fallon’s clothes—with his badge—among her belongings.”

  “That does not bode well,” the king said with a weary sigh. “You suppose they are lovers?”

  “I don’t know what to suppose,” Trynne said. “Fallon is very . . . complicated.”

  Drew snorted, and when she looked at him, he was nodding in agreement. “I’ve never fully understood Genny’s brother. In the last year he has changed for the better. I named him my champion and defender, but only because the Painted Knight didn’t come to the Gauntlet. I had hoped . . . almost expected that he would.” He rubbed his temples.

  “Well,” he said with a sigh, “the truth will out, as they say. Owen thought keeping Morwenna close would be the wise course of action. She’s still very young.” He gave Trynne a pointed look, acknowledging that the two were of an age. “I hope she hasn’t betrayed me. I forgave her father. Could I forgive her? Could I chain my own sister to a rock on the mountain yonder and watch her freeze to death?” His voice broke and he shook his head.

  Trynne felt sorry for him. The decision, ultimately, was his to make.

  “My lord, perhaps Morwenna is driven by ambition and not revenge. I heard in Chandigarl that the Wizrs are forcing Gahalatine to marry. If he does not choose his own bride, they will choose one for him. Perhaps Rucrius’s plan is to put Morwenna on the throne. She looks like a queen. She’s the daughter of one.”

  Drew pursed his lips and gave Trynne a tender, sympathetic look. His face was calm and peaceful. “But Gahalatine is wiser for having chosen you, Trynne. My grandfather always valued Ankarette’s advice above all others. Now I can see why. Discernment is as important as she always said it was. I trust your instincts, Trynne. I believe in you. Now,” he added, shifting to a more playful tone. “I would normally ask this of my poisoner, but she’s indisposed. You said you felt the presence of another Fountain-blessed in the castle. It’s probably Carrick, the hunter. But just in case, I’d like you to take some of the maidens and go find this person. Let’s be sure they are on our side.”

  Trynne bowed in obeisance and left the king’s chamber after the servant they had sent in search of Captain Staeli returned with him and six maidens. There had been no chance to eat amidst the commotion of the day, so she nibbled a bread roll as she led two of the girls through the halls. The castle was still in commotion from their arrival. The common hall was filled with rows of trestle tables, and the maidens sat eating the provisions that had been set out for them. There was a feeling of good spirits now that they’d reached the protection of the mountains, but there was also worry in the air. Everyone knew Gahalatine was on his way. Some of the serving girls were talking to the Oath Maidens, admiring their armor and weapons, and intrigued to hear the tales of their training.

  Trynne could f
eel the call of the magic reaching out to her still, those musical notes playing over and over. She left the great hall and found a passageway leading to a set of spiral stairs in one of the tower turrets. Grabbing a torch from the wall sconce for light, she led the way down to the lower level. The noise and commotion from the common hall receded. Below she found the armory, where soldiers were grinding axes and swords while blacksmiths fixed and repaired armor. The smell of men’s unwashed bodies was everywhere and some were smoking pipes and speaking in the Northern accent.

  The soldiers they passed were unused to seeing women in their domain, and Trynne and the maidens were given a few leers as they passed. She ignored the rudeness and followed the strain of magic down another corridor. At the end, she found a heavy iron door with torches bracketed on either side of it. There were two guards posted there, arms folded.

  “Back up top, lasses,” one of them said dismissively as Trynne approached.

  “What’s through the doors?” she asked, ignoring the command.

  “This be the wine cellar,” he replied stiffly. Even without her power, she would know it for a lie. “Not a place for visitors.”

  Trynne gazed at both men. “My name is Trynne Kiskaddon,” she said. “Lord Owen was my father. He grew up in this castle.”

  The two guards exchanged surprised looks. “I beg your pardon, your ladyship. Our master has given instructions that you are permitted to go anywhere you choose. I meant no disrespect.” He turned and yanked the door open. It took both men to do the job because of its weight.

  As Trynne passed, she caught one of them giving the other a knowing look. She stopped and held out her hand to the maidens. “You both wait here. I should return promptly.”

  “Yes, my lady,” they said, nodding. She could tell that they understood her meaning, that they were to wait behind to prevent the guards from locking her in.