The Forsaken Throne (Kingfountain #6)

“There, lass,” he whispered. “You’ll be mending now.”

She saw him stuff some shriveled green moss into a pouch at his waist.

The voices whispered with reverence around her. “She’s alive!”

“She’s alive!” “Tell Thierry. Quickly!”

Somehow they had been saved. Her people had not been drowned after all.

Myrddin grasped his crooked staff and winced as he tried to rise. He was clearly weak, the battle must have drained him considerably, but he still managed to make it to his feet. Gripping his staff, he reached down and caught her hand and helped pull her to her feet.

She was on the beach of sea glass. It had been restored to its previous state—the bones of Leoneyis hidden again beneath the waters—and the very familiarity made her gasp with relief.

“I thought . . . I thought the flood,” she managed. It still felt new and difficult to breathe again.

Myrddin cocked his head and looked at her curiously. “You thought what, little sister?” She could almost feel him reading her mind, plucking out her thoughts like one would harvest ripe berries.

“That the Fountain would abandon the people who were always faithful to it? Look around you, lass. The beach is crowded. Yet the people follow the covenant, only removing one chest a year. They honor the Fountain not just with their hands, but with their hearts.”

He tapped his chest with a cluster of fingers. “And so the Fountain honors them. It honors you.”

“But the Leerings,” Trynne said, confused. “They were all destroyed.”

He gave her a knowing smile. “And who do you think, lass, who do you think put those Leerings there in the first place? Who put them there before he was trapped in a stone cave and banished to another world?” He wagged his bushy eyebrows at her. “This beach is sacred because it is a reminder of what happens when a people forsakes the Fountain. It will now be a reminder that the Fountain can be a great protector as well. Look,” he said, chuffing, shaking his head. “So meek. I don’t see that in every world. They want to see you, little sister. They know that you saved them.”

“But I didn’t,” Trynne said, shaking her head. She was so weary, but grateful. Tears pricked her eyes. “It was you.”

“No, lass,” he said. “Your need summoned me here. And now I must return to see things finished. To write the rest of the story. I can’t leave that pethet in my cave for too long, you know. He’s a bit too curious, that one.”

Trynne’s heart lurched. “Was there no way . . . no way to bring him with you? Cannot my father go fetch him? I . . . I thought the rule was that only two could cross at a time?”

Myrddin shook his head, his eyes full of sadness. “It doesn’t work that way, little sister. I didn’t create the covenants that separate the worlds. Even I must abide by them. Someone must willingly trade places. And so I must go back and fulfill what the Fountain sent me to do.” He bent down and kissed the top of her head.

“Myrddin?” she said, her voice breaking.

He arched his eyebrows at her.

“Would you tell him . . . would you tell Fallon that I love him?

That I wish . . . with all my heart, I wish things could have been different between us. He’s truly the best of men.” Tears thickened on her lashes. She would start weeping uncontrollably if she said any more.

Myrddin pursed his lips. He touched her shoulder comfortingly.

“I will. Farewell, Oath Maiden. Until we meet again on another shore.

May the Fountain always bless you.”

She sniffled and wrapped her arms around him and buried her face against his chest. She felt his hand stroke her sandy hair. Then she pulled away and smiled at him with her crooked smile.

“Good-bye, little sister,” he said tenderly.

When she turned, she saw a larger crowd had gathered around them. The people of Ploemeur had all joined them on the beach. She started to walk through them, and they parted to make a path for her.

The looks of awe and reverence on their faces humbled her. To them, she was a manifestation of the Fountain. The one who had saved their kingdom from drowning in the sea.

She saw Thierry marching toward her from the palace, his face full of wonder. When he reached her, he gripped her shoulders and then kissed her on both cheeks.

“My lady,” he said, whispering the words like a benediction. He pitched his voice lower. “We found her. Severn’s daughter. She too washed up on the beach. She’s alive, if barely.”

Of course she would have survived too. She was Fountain-blessed.

Trynne sighed. “I must take her back to Kingfountain.”

Thierry nodded sagely. “Yes. But she is not as hale as you.

She’s nearly dead. And from the looks of it, she was attacked in the waters. Her hand is missing. And we found this.”

He held up a single serrated tooth the size of a hunting dagger.





Dearest Trynne,

I must write this note now in case there is not time to explain before we are separated. You know how I’ve hated the secrets between us, from the time you learned about your father’s fate and wouldn’t share it with me to my intrigues with the Espion and the search for your father that I concealed from you.

If you knew that one of us would need to remain behind, you would have sacrificed yourself. I know you too well, Trynne Kiskaddon. So here is the last secret that I learned from Morwenna when I poisoned her.

The guardian of the grove who bears the ring can pass between worlds. They can bring one other person with them. But they cannot take someone away without exchanging with someone who is willing. There must be a balance exacted, or the magic will fail. Morwenna learned this from The Hidden Vulgate she found in Pisan, which contained a story about the grove, the silver bowl. It talked about a man named Owain who became the master of the ring and crossed worlds. It was a secret Owain only shared with King Andrew. The king was taken to that other world to be healed after his mortal injury by his bastard son. A son sired because of his sister’s deceit.

The Dochte Mandar have been looking for King Andrew’s posterity in the other world. Apparently, only a certain family can use the Medium—or the Fountain magic as we call it. That family descended from our world originally. I hope to learn more about it while I

stay. If I can find the remnants of that family, then I will swear my loyalty to them.

Trynne, this is for the best. It would torture me to live in a world where you are married to another man. I would rather be here all alone. I cannot walk away from these feelings for you. I’ve kept Morwenna’s kystrel to keep her from using it against you. I don’t think I could have stood by and watched you destroy her, even though you must. It would have been too painful, because she was, for a time, a dear friend.

Know that my heart will always belong to you.

To stay here, this had to be done willingly. No one forced me, Trynne. But I need to step aside so that Gahalatine can have you and so that we cannot be tempted to do something that would bring shame on both of us. I will live my life in this world with the burning hope that we may reunite again when we both reach the Deep Fathoms.

With all my love,

Fallon





CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE


Nightmares


In her dream, Trynne was slogging through the fetid swamp surrounding Muirwood Abbey, being hunted and chased by baying hounds. She was trying to find Fallon. There were occasional glimpses of him up ahead, but every time she tried to call out to him, to plead with him to stop, she was too breathless to speak. Her eyes blinked awake and the dream began to dissolve like dew under rays of sunlight.

Trynne had spent much of the two days following the confrontation with Morwenna sleeping and regaining her strength.