The Forsaken Throne (Kingfountain #6)

She saw Lord Amrein leaning up on one arm. He’d just vomited into a bowl. Several other healers had gathered around his bed. She felt a thrill of relief, a spark of hope amidst a blackness of soul.

The healer knelt by the chancellor, gripping his wrist and pressing the back of his free hand against the man’s forehead. “He’s very weak still. My lord, do you know your name? Do you know where you are?”

Lord Amrein glanced around the room in confusion. Those who’d been injured in the grove lay all around him, receiving treatment from other healers. “I recognize the symbol of the triple face on the pillar over there. This is Ploemeur, is it not?”

“Thank the Fountain,” Trynne gushed, spanning the remaining distance between them.

He looked at her, his brow furrowing. “My lady,” he said broodingly.

“I tried reviving him with salts and it did the work,” the healer said. “My lord, you sustained a head injury along the journey.”

“It was a hailstorm,” Lord Amrein said.

“Indeed,” Trynne said, nodding. “When you are feeling more rested, we will need to leave for Kingfountain immediately. There is news I must share with the king and queen at once.”

Lord Amrein frowned, his brow knitting. “If I could sit on a horse, I’d go now,” he said.

“No, there is no need. We could take the fountain and be there straightaway. But you look so ill.”



He nodded and leaned forward on the bed. “If I could be helped there? We should go at once.”

Trynne directed two of her knights to help carry him there. Then she waved over Thierry, who was still baffled by the abrupt turn the day had taken. He could hardly be blamed. One moment they’d been preparing for Gahalatine’s visit—the next, the hall had become a sickroom. And where was Captain Staeli? Why had he not appeared in the grove to defend it? Not knowing only made her anxiety worse.

“I need to know Captain Staeli is well and to seek his counsel.

Please send a rider out and have him come to Ploemeur at once. I’m taking Lord Amrein to the palace to warn the king about what has happened. I leave Gahalatine in your charge. Answer his questions.

Help explain who he is and why he is here. I will return as soon as possible. Talk to Reya when she awakens again. See if she can explain why they went to the grove against my express command.”

“I will do so, my lady,” Thierry answered. “Can you explain to me what has happened? Was it a freak storm? The weather was so clear. It doesn’t make sense.”

She couldn’t share the grove’s secrets, but her steward had expressed her own thoughts so precisely. “I know, Thierry. None of it makes sense.”

When they arrived at the chapel fountain in Kingfountain, Lord Amrein dropped to his knees from the rush of magic, planted his hands on the rim of the font, and then proceeded to retch once again in a series of spasmodic jerks that produced nothing but a little bile.

The Espion assigned to the chapel rushed in to help him out.

“What happened? I’ve never known him to travel this way,” one of the Espion asked Trynne. The chancellor was clearly in no shape to answer the question himself.

“It was urgent we both arrive.” Invoking the word of power for healing, she reached out and touched Lord Amrein’s shoulder. Her own stores of magic were continuing to dwindle, but her effort had improved his color noticeably. “We need to see the king and queen at once.”

Both Espion exchanged a look before glancing back at her.

“What is it?” Lord Amrein demanded. “I saw the look you gave each other.”

One of the Espion leaned in and whispered something in his ear.

The chancellor’s head jerked back. “Take me to the king.”

“What has happened?” Trynne asked in concern.

Lord Amrein stared at her. “The baby, Kate, is critically ill. The whole palace is concerned she will die.”

Trynne blinked. “Where is she?”

“The queen has been nursing her. The doctors are all baffled as to the cause. She was healthy three days ago when I left, and now she’s . . . failing?” He looked again at the Espion who had conveyed the message.

The Espion nodded, his lips pursed.

“I must go to her,” Trynne said, knowing how desperately worried Genny would be. Trynne’s powers had been depleted, but she felt—no, she knew—that things here were not as they were supposed to be.

“The king is in the council room,” the other Espion said. “The queen is in her chambers.”

“Help me get to His Majesty,” Lord Amrein said to one of them.

Then, pointing to the other, he made a quick gesture with his wrist.

“You accompany Lady Trynne.”

“Aye, my lord.”

Trynne didn’t need the escort, nor did she understand the subtle Espion sign that Lord Amrein had just given his man. Fallon probably knew what it meant. Without a word, she walked at a forceful pace through the corridors she knew so well. The expressions of the servants and the subdued atmosphere only added to the impression that something was badly wrong.

She turned to her escort, who was barely keeping up with her.

“The babe fell ill immediately after we left?”

“Aye, my lady,” he said circumspectly. “No cause or reason for it.”

“Have there been any visitors to the palace?”

“Just the delegation from the East. Sunilik has met frequently with the king and queen. Do you suspect him?”

“I don’t,” she said, shaking her head. “No, I believe he is trustworthy. But no other visitors have come? Is Duke Fallon still in the North?”

“Aye,” the man said, arching his eyebrow at her question. What she really wanted to know was if Morwenna was still under guard at Marshaw, but she would only ask that question of someone she trusted. Besides Captain Staeli, she didn’t know many of the Espion personally.

She gritted her teeth and hurried to the chamber. As she approached, she felt and sensed the dim aura of magic coming from beyond the door, which immediately put her on her guard. She had never sensed magic coming from Genny’s room before. The Espion waited at the door, and Trynne was announced, her concerns growing with each breath.

“Yes, send her in at once,” she heard Genny’s voice say in a worried tone. Something about her voice sounded strange to Trynne’s ears, though she couldn’t say what. Worry wriggled inside her more violently.

The room looked the same, but the smell had changed. An odor of sickness hung in the room. Genny stood by the cradle, wearing a dark-green gown that was almost black. Her hair was elegantly coifed, which surprised Trynne. Would a concerned mother have taken the time to groom herself so elegantly? The look of grief on her face was belied by the satisfied glint in her eyes. As Trynne approached, she sensed multiple sources of magic, like a series of musical instruments playing softly in the background, unobserved by any but the most practiced listener. The effect was very subtle, but any Fountain-blessed would probably sense it if paying attention.

First, there was a ring that was hiding the true appearance of the queen. The woman looked and sounded like Genny. But it was a lie. Trynne could sense it clearly. Such tricks had never worked on her. Another magic was worn beneath the lacings of the woman’s bodice. A medallion of some kind. It felt similar—no, it felt exactly— like the one Albion had been using when Trynne had arrived in the solar a few days before. There was almost a sickly-sweet odor that came from the magic, one that tried to put Trynne at ease and make her feel safe in the presence of a trusted friend. A woman whom she had shared a bond with for so long, one she trusted implicitly with all her secrets.

But this woman was not Genevieve.

It was Morwenna.