The Forsaken Throne (Kingfountain #6)

Apokaluptis,” she breathed out in a low, firm voice, invoking the word of power used to unmask a disguise, to reveal the true nature of something hidden. She felt the pulse of Fountain magic in her mind, as if a large boulder had been catapulted into a lake. The ripples shot out from her in all directions.

Morwenna Argentine was suddenly standing there, to the sight and wonderment of all. Even the sword’s illusion had been stripped away. And so had the disguises of many of the nobles of Kingfountain. The pair who had looked like Iago and Evie were revealed as strangers, imposters. The masks had all crumbled, and as Drew turned around in baffled amazement, he stared at his sister with a look of sudden revulsion and terror. He saw he was surrounded by strangers, and the realization of it crashed upon him like the walls of water had just crashed into the river.

“I arrest you by the name of Morwenna Argentine,” Trynne said, striding forward, putting herself between the poisoner and the king.

“If you think I’ll be dragged to Helvellyn willingly,” Morwenna shot back angrily, “you’re a fool.”

“I’m not a fool,” Trynne answered. It was time for a reckoning between the two of them. Trynne steeled herself for the fight.

But Morwenna reached behind her back, and Trynne caught only a glimpse of the Tay al-Ard before the poisoner vanished.





CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE


Ruin


With a Tay al-Ard, Morwenna Argentine could go anywhere in the world. But there was one place where she could do Trynne the most harm. Brythonica. Her every instinct screamed that the poisoner had gone there to flood the entire duchy, drowning it under the Deep Fathoms.

And Trynne carried in her pack the tool that could help her defeat Morwenna.

She dropped to her knee before the king. “My lord, I am still your servant. I knew of Morwenna’s deception before I left to free my father. She imprisoned Genny and poisoned your child. I took Kate to save her, and it was Fallon who knew the cure. He also stole the Wizr board from Morwenna. Please, my lord, if you’ll look at the pieces, you will see that I am telling the truth.”

Drew knelt before her, his eyes crinkled with worry and hope.

He put his hand on her shoulder. “You’ve saved my life again, my Painted Knight. My champion. My mind is in agony over what I almost did. How my sister deceived me. I’m nearly too ashamed to speak. She pretended to be my wife. If we had . . . then history would have repeated . . . I would have been slain by my . . .”

He shuddered at the thoughts colliding in his mind. Squeezing his fist, he pressed it against his mouth, shaking his head in horror.

“You saved me. You saved me from the worst possible fate.”

Trynne’s relief was superseded by the urgency of her task. “My lord, the Wizr board.”

“Yes, yes—pull it out.”

Trynne undid the straps while Kevan ordered the king’s guard to surround the imposters. “Take them to the dungeon and hold them there for now. Fetch Lord Gahalatine from Holistern Tower and bring him here.”

Trynne’s head turned up sharply at the orders.

“I could not order his death, even for treason,” the king said softly. “Not when so many lives were at stake. I would not have so many deaths on my shoulders. He was true to you, Trynne. He and Captain Staeli did their best to stop me.”

The king turned his gaze to the grizzled captain. “You, sir, have been faithful to the last. I’ll make a duke out of you, ere this is over.

You have my word.”

Trynne hefted the chest by the handle and pulled it out. Putting the key into the lock, she twisted it and then raised the lid.

The colors had changed once again. She saw Drew as the white king, surrounded by two knights—her and her father.

Morwenna, the black Wizr, was across the board at Ploemeur.

Trynne’s heart sank even though the sun had begun to penetrate the cold.

“My lord, I must go!” Trynne implored. “She has already ruined the defenses of Brythonica. If she summons the waters, my people will drown!”

Drew stared at the board in wonderment. She could tell he didn’t understand how it had been preserved from Rucrius’s attack.

But it was not a time for questions. He lifted his hand and set it on the piece on the board that represented her. She felt the grinding sensation, the rumble of trembling stone beneath her.

The king hesitated, his fingers poised to move the piece.

“What if I lose you?” he said, gazing at her with fearful concern.

“The Wizr is the most powerful piece.”



“Send me,” Trynne begged him.

The king glanced up at Owen. Trynne didn’t look to see her father’s reaction. She stared at the king, willing him to move her piece.

And he did.

The skies over Ploemeur roiled with seething black clouds. A violent sea storm was arriving, and the wind howled like unleashed demons.

Trynne appeared on the beach in the midst of the tempest. The gale whipped her loose hair around her face, and she staggered a bit on the sandy ground, shielding her eyes from the gusts.

The beach had transformed.

All her life, she had walked along this beach, at high tide and low tide, and yet she’d never seen it like this. The sea had receded for nearly a mile, exposing rocks and boulders she had never seen before. There were glistening tide pools, radiant with the colors of vibrant life. But some of the boulders that had been revealed were clearly shaped by men—the bony fragments of castles that had once existed in might and triumph before being swallowed by the depths.

Almost as far as she could see, there were mounds and squares and fallen arches covered with seaweed. These were the rotting bones of Leoneyis. She stared at them in awe, trying to discern the edge of the sea.

Trynne heard shouting, and turned toward the source. In the midst of the sloping wet sand, she saw two figures. Fountain magic radiated from both of them. One was Myrddin with his crooked staff.

The other, Morwenna.

“Don’t you see, I don’t care if we all drown!” the poisoner was shouting. “Not even you can withstand the power of the sea, old man!”

Trynne gazed in horror as the biggest wave she’d ever seen came at the bay like a devouring monster, all thrashing foam and froth and weight. When Rucrius had turned the river outside Kingfountain back, it was nothing compared to this. There were cries of fear from throughout Ploemeur as the people began fleeing to higher ground.

“Aspis!” the Wizr Myrddin commanded, slamming his staff into the sand.

Trynne stared at the coming flood with terror. No shield could hold back the entire ocean. It had taken multiple Leerings to fence it in. Dread sickened her.

“You won’t stop it!” Morwenna taunted.

Trynne shuddered as the wave engulfed the stone ribs and skeletons of Leoneyis. As soon as the waters struck the beach, Trynne shut her eyes, unable to watch the devastation. Her heart hurt for the people she had promised to protect. It was better to die with them, even though she had the power to flee. Better to share their fate than live through the guilt of surviving it.

The clang of Fountain magic buffeted the beach and knocked Trynne to her knees. She opened her eyes, confused, and watched as the wave was shoved back, smashed against an invisible wall that protected the beach. It was as if a huge glass orb had been put over the beach. The waters of the ocean, tangled with huge skeins of seaweed, loomed far over Trynne’s head, high in the sky. But a dome of power protected the city, and the surf, despite its fury, could not claw over the rounded top. The torrent, losing its power, slid down and crashed back into the sea.

Morwenna’s eyes blazed with fury.

“No! You will not stop my revenge!”

“I will stop it as long as I must,” Myrddin answered. She felt his magic receding from such a display. His shoulders hunched and sweat dripped down his cheeks. His stores of magic were incredible, but even he had his limits.

Trynne marched down the beach to join him.

“Hello, little sister,” he said coyly. “Your pethet friend warned that you may need some help.”