The Hollow Crown (Kingfountain #4)

Suddenly the sound of bootfalls met her ears and Prince Elwis strode down the steps and appeared in the hall. He looked vicious, and his eyes flashed with rage when he saw her. “What are you standing there for, Kiskaddon?” he snarled.

Trynne was startled to see him and even more startled by the vehemence of their introduction. They had never spoken together before, yet he obviously knew who she was and hated her for it. Blood began to pound in her ears as her heart raced.

“I heard voices. I was just looking,” she answered, feeling a little flush stain her cheeks.

“Or you were spying on me,” he replied in a challenging voice. He was looking at her face, and his lips curled with revulsion. “It is true. You are ugly.” Then he glanced behind her, probably at Captain Staeli, who was never far away, turned on his heel, and strode away quickly as shock and pain ripped open the old wounds inside her. She stood there mutely, her mind unable to develop a retort out of the shock of his deliberate insult.

Morwenna appeared in the arched stairway from which the prince had emerged. The girl was chafing her wrist and gazing down the corridor at the malcontent. She then turned to Trynne and said, “I’m glad you came when you did. Thank you.”

Trynne felt like a fish yanked from the waters and passed from one fisherman to another. Why wouldn’t her mouth work?

“I’m . . . I’m sorry,” Trynne said haltingly, her cheeks still flaming. “It’s just . . . I hadn’t expected him to be so rude.”

Morwenna smiled at that comment, a lovely smile that made Trynne ache with jealousy. She hooked arms with Trynne, and they started walking the other way by silent agreement. “He is ill-mannered.” Morwenna glanced back at Elwis, who had nearly reached the end of the hall. “His father wants him to marry me. I think he’s used to getting what he wants.”

“To marry you?” Trynne said with disgust. “He’s eighteen and we’re only . . .”

“Exactly,” Morwenna said with a nod. “A plight troth will do. But my blood-brother, the king, is too wise by far.” She gave Trynne a kindly smile. “As is your father. It doesn’t take a Wizr to foresee the trouble such a marriage would cause, now does it?” After a pause, she continued. “Yes, I’m grateful you arrived when you did. It was becoming more . . . unpleasant by the moment. Men tend to . . . overestimate their finer qualities. Especially rich, spoiled young men.”

It made Trynne think of Fallon, and her mouth tugged into a smile of agreement. Self-conscious, she forced it to go flat.

“Can I ask you something, Tryneowy?” Morwenna asked.

Trynne looked up and noticed Captain Staeli leaning against the corridor wall, arms folded, his eyes following the fleeing prince. His face looked neutral, but Trynne knew him enough to recognize his subtle frown and the narrowing of his eyes. Morwenna glanced at him as they walked by.

“Of course you can,” Trynne answered, patting the other girl’s arm.

“What happened to you as a child?” Morwenna asked. “I’ve heard rumors you were attacked. Is that true?”

Trynne, who was tired of being the object of others’ pity, sighed.

“This makes you uncomfortable,” Morwenna apologized. “I’m sorry I asked. I’m not a gossip. It’s just . . . I hear so little . . . from Glosstyr.” She sighed herself.

“Why don’t you come live at court, then?” Trynne asked.

Morwenna shook her head and laughed in a self-deprecating way. “That is rather complicated. I know I am welcome, of course. My mother insists as much every time I see her. She only lives in Glosstyr for certain seasons of the year. Some like to gossip that even she cannot stand my father, but that’s not true. But he is so lonely when she is gone. And I will be leaving him soon. I wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. Before I go.”

Trynne looked at her in surprise. “Are you going to stay in another household?”

Morwenna patted her arm. “It’s not like that,” she answered. She looked back at Captain Staeli and pitched her voice even lower. “How can you bear having the Espion crawling around you all the time? It would drive me mad.” She leaned closer. “I will tell you. Your father already knows, but he may not have shared it. I’m going to Pisan.” There was a gleam in her silver eyes. “I’m going there to train to become my brother’s poisoner. The thought of being a lady of court has never interested me. I want to know how to fight. How to disable a man like Elwis with a twist of the wrist or a little potion. I’m not content to sit out my days in the parks and gardens or doing needlework. I belong in the shadows. I’ll be gone from court for years. But I just wanted someone . . . someone to know where I was while I’m away.”

“And my father approved of this?” Trynne asked. She was desperate to talk with him about it.

Morwenna nodded, flashing another lovely smile. “It was his idea.”





I have been an observer of humanity. Most men are petty, base, and cruel. Most women are fickle, proud, and cunning. Nearly all are shortsighted and tend to view happiness as a crumb worth hoarding. There are a few, however, who stick to a goal and pursue it regardless of obstacles. They are fired with ambition to achieve something at all costs. From the deepest desires often come the deadliest hate and the profoundest love.

Myrddin





CHAPTER FIVE


Prince of Brugia




Although the day had felt as if it would stretch on forever, it ended like all days do. Trynne watched the final rays of sun disappear over the eastern hills as the shadows stretched in slices along the courtyard walls. From the window in the solar, she had a view of the gorgeous sunset, but her heart could find little beauty in it. Her father was going to die.

She listened to him speak to Lord Amrein in furtive tones and watched the spymaster’s reflection on the glass of the window. The chancellor was crestfallen, his eyes burdened by the knowledge from that day. The castle had been noisy with the wedding and the news of the Ring Table and the looming threat. But only a handful knew about Sinia’s vision. Already they were mourning. Trynne chewed on her lip, willing herself to find a way to overturn the calamity.

“Sinia returned earlier this afternoon,” Owen said with a hollowness in his voice, sitting back in his chair. He was brooding. “I don’t imagine what news you will find in just a few days, Kevan, but do your best. Send me word at Ploemeur.”

“I will,” the other man answered. Then he dropped his hand onto Owen’s shoulder and the two friends locked eyes. What passed between them wasn’t spoken aloud, but it was powerful. Trynne knew the story of how Lord Amrein had saved her father’s life after Owen had committed treason against King Severn. There was trust between the men that had held fast over time.

Owen nodded and held up his hand. “We all must return to the Deep Fathoms some day, my friend. I think it’s a blessing from the Fountain to know my fate early.”