The Forsaken Throne (Kingfountain #6)

Good.

Trynne quickly ducked down another corridor, trying to sense the presence of her pursuer. Yes, Morwenna was moving after her, probably disguised as someone other than the queen. Both she and the poisoner were walking briskly. Trynne knew that the chapel fountain was guarded by the Espion. That was where she would be expected to go, but there were other fountains within the inner grounds, ones that her father and Lady Evie had played in as children.

Morwenna had studied the Wizr magic much more ardently, which only added to Trynne’s disadvantage. She experienced a sudden pang of regret for not having learned more. Had she memorized the precise location of the ley lines, her path would not be limited to the fountains.

Trynne suddenly darted to the left, changing her direction almost at random. Both she and Morwenna knew the layout of the palace. The upper part was really one continuous circle. If the poisoner had a Tay al-Ard, then she would be able to use it to catch Trynne by getting ahead of her. If she suspected her final

destination. Trynne knew from experience that the magic of those devices was not infinite. Morwenna would only be able use it a limited number of times before it needed a recharge. How many?

Three or four?

Trynne suddenly sensed Morwenna’s presence in the hallway she had just left. She’d closed the gap almost immediately. A flush of panic rushed through her and she started to run. There was no cry of warning or shout to stop, but she could feel Morwenna behind her.

Tracking her. Running like she was.

Trynne veered toward the door of an anteroom, jerked at the handle, and stepped inside. It was a decorative space, filled with chairs arranged in conversation areas. The far wall was embedded with tall windows. Trynne summoned her magic as she rushed across the room. She stepped up onto a chair, yanked aside a set of curtains, and then pushed at the latch of one of the windows.

There was a pulse of magic, and the door of the sitting room rocked open so forcefully it smashed into the wainscoting. Not even pausing to look back, Trynne hoisted herself up onto the window ledge and jumped down. She heard the splashing of the fountain at the garden, a sound that filled her with desperation to reach it.

Sprinting across the lawn, her skirts nearly tripping her, she raced to the edge of the fountain. Magic swelled behind her again, a freezing spell that should have stopped her in her tracks. The spell diverted away, and Trynne leaped into the waters, turning briefly.

She saw a woman standing at the window—it wasn’t Morwenna’s face, but Trynne could sense the illusion. There was a scarab-like ring on the middle finger of her raised hand. Even from this distance, she thought she could see the malevolence in the girl’s eyes.

Trynne stared at her a moment, feeling the huge wave of magic building up inside of Morwenna. The fountain she stood in began to hiss and gurgle, and Trynne felt immense pressure thudding in her skull.

She invoked the word to transport herself away. Kennesayrim.

With great agitation, Trynne walked the grounds of the sanctuary of Our Lady. Her ring disguised her as a commoner, but it didn’t make her feel safe. She paced for several hours, hoping Mariette would come and terrified she would not. Always, she stayed in the portion of the grounds where she had a view of the royal docks across the river.

Trynne had always been good at playing Wizr, but there were moments in some games when an opponent’s move irrevocably changed the whole game.

Morwenna had abducted the queen. She had poisoned the royal child. Her failure to become Gahalatine’s queen—and by extension to rule all of Kingfountain—had clearly pushed her across a moral line. Her father was dead, his ties to loyalty and honor severed. She had changed the rules, and Trynne would have to outthink her and outmaneuver her.

At least all the pacing and plotting was helping Trynne fill her magical reserves. This was a challenge she relished, and she was determined not to let Morwenna win. She was the king’s champion still, even if he was too addled by magic to recognize it.

Her eyes caught sight of a small canoe as it plunged down the ramp and hit the river at an angle. Trynne’s breath quickened, and she hastened to the docks at the rear of the sanctuary. When she arrived, she dropped her disguise so that Mariette would recognize her.

Mariette was easily distinguishable in the small canoe, but Trynne could not see if she had the child. Anticipation stole her breath. When the boat came closer, she finally glimpsed a squirming bundle and heard the mewling of discomfort and hiccupping sobs.

Relief flooded her.

Mariette handed the child up to Trynne, who caught Kate in her arms and held her fiercely.

“The ride here reminded me of the cost,” Mariette said, her voice a little tremulous. There were beads of sweat on her upper lip.

“This is treason and I’d be thrown into the river. I want to run as far from Kingfountain as I can.”



Cradling the child in one arm, Trynne reached out and helped Mariette up onto the dock. Then Mariette fastened the boat with a mooring line. “What next?”

“This baby’s life is in great danger,” Trynne said, shaking her head. “We must do all we can to save her, Mariette.”

“She’s very sick,” Mariette said, looking pained. “Will she . . . will she die if we take her away? What if Morwenna is the only one who can cure her?”

That was a thought that made Trynne cringe.

When Trynne returned to Ploemeur, she used every healing spell she knew from The Vulgate on Kate. But the baby’s illness only grew worse. Perhaps there was another spell that could cure the princess, but finding words of power in the long, dry-as-dust book had always taken time, and that was something she did not have.

Reya had recovered her strength, and although she was still dizzy from her injuries, she was determined to help. Gahalatine, whose sense of honor had not been stolen with his memories, had also offered his assistance—especially after learning the babe was the princess of this kingdom. While she appreciated the offer, there was little he could do in his current state.

“How did this happen?” Trynne asked Reya, staring at her friend in confusion while she held Kate and tried to soothe her unsuccessfully. They had taken to a small sitting room, somewhere they were unlikely to be seen and overheard. Gahalatine stood by the window, listening to them with a slightly baffled look on his face.

“My lady,” Reya said. “When you appeared before us, I was convinced it was you. The gown you were wearing was different than the one you had on earlier in the day, but I didn’t think anything of it at the time. You brought us to the grove yourself and then poured water from the bowl onto the stone slab. You said you had something to show us.”

“It was not me,” Trynne said, shaking her head.

“But it looked like you. It sounded like you. Even your manners were the same. It deceived us all. My eyes could not tell what was true.” She paused, then added, “But in my heart, I know it wasn’t you. You wouldn’t have led us to such an ambush. And now you say Morwenna has stolen the identity of the queen herself?” She looked fiercely angry. “This is the blackest of treason. And I fear that she does intend for my father to bring Gahalatine’s message of enmity home.”

He looked on in confusion. Trynne forced a smile and said, “It’s a long tale, but suffice it to say that Morwenna has none of our best interests in mind.” Turning back to Reya, she added, “I fear you are correct about your father. But neither of us can risk returning to Kingfountain at present.