The Forsaken Throne (Kingfountain #6)

Trynne brought them to the harbor where they had disembarked from the queen’s ship. There were no vessels there now, for the tide had gone out, but there were plenty of soldiers and rowboats.

“I’ve never felt so awful in my life,” Fallon whispered to her, shaking his head. He turned and looked up at the black face of the abbey. The stars swirled in a vast configuration in the sky, but the island itself looked dead and dark.

“It was pure evil,” Trynne said, shuddering. “I’ve never been so afraid.”

“Nor I,” he agreed. “This place is cursed.”

They approached a group of soldiers wearing the queen’s tunic, and Fallon said they had orders to leave the abbey and row to the mainland. A few minutes later, they were on a boat. With each stroke and grunt of the soldiers’ oars, Trynne felt a little better, but she still ached for Martin and his granddaughter. He had wanted to save her by destroying the Leering that made hetaera.

But his plan had failed. And the failure also meant they would not be able to break the hetaera’s curse from Morwenna either.

The night was cold and Trynne gathered her cloak more tightly around her. They had brought their packs with them and would seek out her father after reaching the shore. She brooded on the scene they had witnessed, on the way a fell creature had possessed the queen. She had never experienced such a thing before, and never wished to again. Despite some similarities to her home, this land felt so foreign and bizarre to her, like an oozing wound that wouldn’t heal.

She didn’t know how long she was lost in her thoughts when she heard one of the soldiers murmur, “Look! It’s burning!”



She had been facing forward on the bench, hip to hip with Fallon, and they both turned at the same time and saw that the abbey atop the spike of the island was ablaze. Her heart panged with dread and sadness as she watched the flames roaring. How could a structure made of stone burn like that? But it did burn, and unwanted tears blurred her eyes as she watched it. How many centuries had that abbey stood there, a beacon in the water? She could almost hear in her mind the distant echoes of hammers and chisels and creaking ropes. And yet it would be destroyed in a single night.

“By the Rood,” one of the soldiers muttered. “She was the last abbey.”

“Aye, man. They’re all gone now. Good riddance,” said another.

Trynne’s heart was heavy as she watched Dochte burn.

The shore was full of soldiers and tents when they arrived, but Trynne and Fallon were both wearing the tunic of the queen’s guard.

They were neither challenged nor questioned. Even if the queen had sent word right away for them, the Tay al-Ard had helped them outrun the speed of any messenger. While they had no intention to linger, they found a small tent for some privacy. Fallon removed the Wizr chest from his pack and unlocked it, and there was just enough light from the torch poles outside the tent for them to see the gleaming board.

“Here we are,” Fallon said, pointing to their pieces on the board.

“There is the black queen, right next to us. The king is already here in the camp, it seems. Look how close we are.”

“Martin was right,” Trynne said, pointing to the white king across the board. Another white knight was near it. “Dieyre and my father are still to the east, but we’re closing the distance. Only a few squares away.”

Fallon nodded and gently closed the lid and locked it. “Then let’s keep going. I don’t want to be here in the morning when new orders arrive.”

“Agreed.”

Fallon rose and then held out his hand to help her rise, a simple kindness that meant even more in this place drenched in gloom and despair. Working silently, they secured their gear and left the tent.

Most of the soldiers were asleep, but there were a few clustered together, staring at the abbey burning in the distance and muttering among themselves. Soon the camp was behind them and they took an eastward road through woods. The sentries posted there merely nodded in respect as they passed, and she was grateful that Martin had provided, although unintentionally, the means for them to pass unmolested.

After the fatigue of several hours of walking in moonlight, they shed their tunics in the bushes. Wearing them deeper into enemy territory would be foolhardy. Not long after, Trynne felt something ahead on the trail, the presence of Fountain magic.

“There is a Leering ahead,” she whispered.

Trynne found it just off the road, hidden amidst thick brush. The face had been carved into an existing boulder. As she approached it, she felt its magic calling to her. It captivated her in a strange way, and she felt the ripples and murmurs of the Fountain. It felt familiar and peaceful—a stark contrast to the horrors of the dungeon and the hetaera lair in Dochte.

Fallon walked around the boulder, inspecting it from all sides.

“The carvings are new,” he announced.

Trynne was trying to understand why the stone felt so appealing. A sudden insight struck her. It was a water Leering. As if activated by the thought, the eyes on the carving glowed bright red and water started gushing from its mouth. Fallon scrambled backward in surprise, making her smile.

“You frightened me,” he said, laughing.

“I didn’t do it on purpose, Fallon,” she answered. After tugging off her gloves and stuffing them into her belt, she reached out and bathed her hands in the water to clean them and then cupped some to drink. After the long hike, the drink was delicious. She splashed some on her face before stepping aside to give Fallon a turn at the Leering.

“I wish we had these in our world,” he said with a grin. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

“We do,” she answered and saw his head tilt in surprise and curiosity.

“Really? Are they like the carvings in the castle of Ploemeur?”

She shook her head. “No, those are just decorations. They cannot summon power like this.” She thought about the ones in the caves of Glass Beach in Brythonica. But Fallon didn’t know about those, and she couldn’t tell him the secrets of her mother’s line. “I saw one in Gahalatine’s pavilion. It probably came from this world.”

Fallon shook water droplets from his hand, his expression darkening at her words. She could see his face through the light of the Leering’s burning eyes.

“Ah.” A feeling of awkwardness rose between them. “I’ve never been there,” he added, trying to lighten the mood, no doubt.

“This was back at the battle outside Dundrennan. He said that they were from another world, so I assume it must be this one,” she said, remembering that night in his tent. When they had arranged the truce between their realms. When she had agreed to become his wife. The feelings in her chest were so different now . . .

Fallon’s words interrupted her thoughts. “Can I ask you something?”

She turned to face him, dreading what was coming. “I’m not sure that would be wise, Fallon. We’re both exhausted.”

He smirked at her gentle warning and rose, rubbing his hand along the curved top of the boulder. She felt small and miserable and envious of his height.

“I’m not going to ask you anything inappropriate, Trynne. You needn’t worry.”

“Will it be impertinent?” she asked, managing a small smile.

“No, nor impudent. However, it is pertinent to the situation.

Trynne, as much as I wish it were otherwise, you are a married woman. We are alone together, so I recognize the unusual circumstances here, but I just . . . well, I’m curious about how Gahalatine won your hand. When you disappeared with him and that ugly Wizr of his, I could do nothing but wonder what would happen.

Then you came back, and your agreement had been made. So . . .

how did he win you?”