The Forsaken Throne (Kingfountain #6)

Trynne lifted herself up on her sore arms. The only noise in her throbbing ears was the sound of heavy breathing—hers and her father’s—and the trickling sound of the waterfall. She sensed no other life in the grove and she realized that the Fountain had slain all the men of Glosstyr.

Then the sweet trilling of birdsong filled the void, the hauntingly beautiful sound that never failed to move her after the devastation wrought by the grove’s storms. She sat up and Owen sat down, stunned at the chorus that swelled in the air. He stared at the oak tree that was no longer barren but full of a variety of birds, each singing a part of the melody. As they filled the sky with music, the buds of the oak tree regrew and suddenly it was complete again.

“There’s someone at the tree,” Owen said, looking keenly at it.

Trynne caught just the subtle shift of movement and then remembered Fallon’s warning.

“Don’t look at her,” she said. The grove felt wrong now, hostile.

“We must not look, or we’ll both forget who we are. That’s what happened to you before, Papa.”

The ice melted away, bathing the glen. Drips of water plopped from the ferns and bracken. The gateway back to Muirwood was open. She sensed it calling her, urging her to go back to Fallon, to be with him there. The pain in her heart was real and it hurt beyond her reckoning, but she had a duty to perform in Kingfountain. She could not fulfill her own wishes at that moment. Not when so much was at stake. Still, she was determined to bring Fallon back somehow and prayed she would not be too late. She and her father sat in the quiet damp, listening as the birdsong finished. And then the portal to Muirwood closed. She felt empty inside when it did.

“That was frightening,” Owen said, chuckling softly.

Trynne gazed at his expression and smiled. “The first time you came here, it was with a poisoner named Etayne. She almost died in the hail, but you shielded her too.”

Owen nodded with interest. “What’s our next move?”

“I guess that depends on what we see on the Wizr board.”

His brow wrinkled. “Wizr?”

“That’s right, you don’t know of it. I suppose they don’t play Wizr in that other world. You have Fallon’s pack. Open it and draw out the chest.”



She watched as her father did just that. Fishing through the pack again, she found the key that would open it.

When she unlocked it and lifted the lid, the first thing she saw was the note Fallon said he had left there. Her eyes fixed on it, pricking with heat. Owen gently withdrew it, staring at the paper. But her name was on the folded sheet, written by Fallon’s own hand.

Owen gave it to her and she held it in her lap a moment, not wanting to read it yet, unsure whether her heart could bear it.

“This is a game?” Owen asked, staring down at the confusion of pieces.

Trynne also looked at the board. Fear bloomed in her chest.

The game was nearly over.

There was a ley line from the grove to the palace in Ploemeur.

Trynne took her father there after they sipped from the silver dish, which they’d replenished at the waterfall, the water restoring their magic. She was invigorated and more determined than ever to defeat Morwenna. If only her father had his full memory going into this fight . . . She would hull the tree in an instant. But it would take time, and she sensed from the Fountain that she had little remaining.

So the tree would have to face its executioners later.

Though she was tempted to bring them straight to Kingfountain, they needed answers first. Answers that would be better found in Ploemeur. When she and her father appeared in the fountain, Owen looked bewildered by the drastic change of location. It was obvious he felt like a stranger in the palace where she had grown up. The pieces on the board had revealed much, but it was still cryptic. Drew was the black king. Morwenna the black Wizr. Both were at Kingfountain. The white king, her husband, Gahalatine, was also at Kingfountain. The white queen, Genny, was isolated in the North.

She saw herself and her father by themselves in the western portion of the board—two white knights. The army of pawns was no more.

What had happened to Captain Staeli? His piece was no longer on the board.

As they walked down the palace corridor in their filthy, battle-stained clothes, they were met with surprise by some of the servants, who were clearly thunderstruck to see them.

“Lady Trynne! Lord Owen!”

Within moments, the palace was in an uproar. Servants crowded into the corridor, anxious to see Trynne—and especially Owen.

Trynne asked one of her mother’s faithful servants to summon Thierry. The woman shook her head and said, “But my lady, Duke Ramey is warden of Brythonica now and commands a garrison of soldiers here from his duchy. Thierry is with him at the moment. Shall we keep your presence a secret? They have orders to arrest you.”

“I will not hide from him,” Trynne said. She had no doubt Morwenna already knew they were back. “Where are they?”

“In the audience hall.”

Trynne nodded and then guided her father there. Word of their arrival was still rushing through the palace. The relief her people felt was evident—she saw it in every smile, in every bow of reverence.

They had despaired that no one from her mother’s line was present to protect them.

When they reached the audience hall, the doors were held open for them. Trynne and her father strode through them, and she couldn’t help but think of the many events that had played out in this very room. Her father’s disastrous proposal to her mother. Her confrontation with Rucrius and his Wizrs before she summoned the flood.

Duke Ramey was in conversation with Thierry when they walked inside, and his eyes nearly leaped out of his head when he saw her father.

“L-L-Lord Owen!” he said in astonishment, jaw dropping.

Thierry gazed up toward the ceiling, mouthing unsaid words of praise. He rushed to Trynne with near panic. “My lady, my lady!” He dropped to his knees before her.

“My lord duke,” Trynne said, standing before Ramey. “My father has returned.”

“I see him standing before me,” the duke said, shaking his head. “But my eyes have been deceived much of late. Everything has changed. It feels like winter although it is spring, especially at the palace. I have orders from the king himself to arrest you, Tryneowy. To arrest you for treason.” He held up his hands and shrugged. “All that I am, all that I have, my seat at the Ring Table, I owe to this man,” he said, gesturing to her father. “I’ll admit that I was unprepared for this possibility. No one thought you’d return.”

Trynne saw the look of helplessness on his face. He was a good man. A dutiful one. She saw the conflict raging inside of him.

“Why would you think that?” she said. “This is my home. These are my people.”

“I know, but things have been topsy-turvy. The king hardly acts like his old self. His grief at losing the baby has changed him. The queen is not herself either. Everyone said that you ran off with Fallon after your army lost, that you abrogated your duties, that you were a traitor. Some Espion claimed they saw the two of you in Legault.

Some in Genevar. The rumors . . .” He shook his head.

Trynne looked at him sternly. “Where are Captain Staeli and Gahalatine?”

Duke Ramey sighed. “The Assizes are being held in Kingfountain as we speak. Staeli is being tried for treason. If he’s not over the falls already, he will be shortly. Gahalatine is also imprisoned at the palace. The North is under revolt, Brugia too, and the king will subdue them next, now that he’s overrun Westmarch and Brythonica. I was stationed here because the king trusts me, if barely. He’s changed so much, Trynne. They all have. It’s like what happened before. Under Severn. But what can I do? What can I do but obey the king’s order?”

Trynne closed her eyes, squeezing her hands into fists. She glanced at her father, watching as he looked around the room with utter confusion. He had no understanding of the politics here. He could not help her devise a solution to the horrible situation that Morwenna had sprung on them. She had to do it. She had to think like her father.