The Hollow Crown (Kingfountain #4)

A flush of anger spread over Fallon’s cheeks as he looked from Morwenna to Trynne. Then he whirled and started right toward Elwis.

“Fallon, no!” Trynne gasped, reaching for him, but he was already well on his way. Morwenna’s eyes were bulging with surprise as well.

Prince Elwis’s mouth tipped into a smirk when he noticed Fallon’s approach. His arms were folded across his chest and he looked as if he were about to start laughing.

“Hail Prince of Atabyrica,” Elwis said disdainfully, offering a meager bow. “You’ve decided to join us at last—”

His last words were cut off when Fallon punched him in the face and sent him staggering back into his companions, who gaped with surprise.

Fallon jabbed a finger toward him. “If you ever utter another insult toward any woman, Elwis, then I swear by the Fountain—!”

There was blood dribbling from Elwis’s nose and his lip was already turning puffy as he grazed it with his gloved hand. The look on his face turned from pain to surprise, then fierce anger. He dropped his hand to the wooden sword at his waist and pulled it out.

“Prince Fallon!” someone shouted and threw him a wooden sword.

Trynne clutched Morwenna’s arm as the two young men flew at each other with the wooden sabers. The swords were made of sturdy pieces and clacked against each other like battle staves. Fallon ducked as one sweep came toward his head and then countered with his own. Trynne’s heart nearly ruptured with fear as she watched the two young men collide, their size not that different, their aggression equally ferocious.

The fight lasted hardly a moment. Elwis trapped Fallon’s hilt, then stepped in and clubbed Fallon in the groin with his fist. As his adversary doubled over in pain, the Brugian prince brought his elbow up to catch his nose. Fallon toppled backward, stunned and in obvious agony. Elwis sneered down at him and then slapped the flat of the blade down against his unprotected head, hard enough that it cut his ear on a snag of wood.

Staring down coldly, Elwis lifted his weapon again to continue beating the helpless man. Without thinking, Trynne let go of Morwenna to charge in and block the blow, but another beat her to it.

It was Captain Staeli, who caught the attack on his own short sword. The wooden sword split apart like wood from an axe. Trynne’s protector stepped in and backhanded Elwis across the face with his fist, sending the prince to the cobbles.

Then he drew his other blade and faced the young men of Brugia with defiance in his eyes. “’Tis not the way of Virtus,” Captain Staeli said in a low growl. “I mean that for both of you sorry cubs! Now get you gone ’fore I thrash you both!”

Looking mortified and repentant, Fallon obeyed. The Prince of Brugia’s face was a mess of blood, but he didn’t look injured, only angry.

Trynne saw that Fallon had just earned an enemy for the rest of his life.





CHAPTER SIX


The Gauntlet




Trynne could not remember ever seeing Fallon so surly and ill-tempered. His teeth were clenched, his arms folded, shoulders hunched. He’d changed back into courtly attire, but his entire form radiated the white-hot heat of suppressed anger. His mother had been steadily scolding him in a low tone and he looked ready to lash out at her in frustration. They were gathered in the great hall, awaiting the arrival of the king. King Drew, Trynne’s father, and Fallon’s father were discussing the mishap with Grand Duke Maxwell of Brugia in another room.

“What if he had pulled his dagger instead of the training sword?” Lady Evie said vehemently. “Neither of you were wearing hauberks . . . He could have shed your blood before Captain Staeli or anyone else intervened.”

Fallon glowered at his mother, clearly still humiliated by the outcome of his altercation with Elwis. Ever since the incident, Trynne could not stop thinking about how Fallon’s rash act had been motivated by Elwis’s insult toward her. She felt a certain guilty pleasure from it that was confusing.

Fallon’s mother held a bloodied rag to his torn ear, but he winced and lifted his arms to ward her off.

“Enough coddling, Mother!” he snapped at her.

She squinted in anger at her son and shook her head. “Don’t you blame me for this, Fallon Llewellyn. You weren’t thinking. You rushed into something without plotting out the consequences. It took four years to make peace with Brugia, and it was nearly wasted in a training-yard brawl.”

“You think I don’t realize that?” Fallon blustered. He rose and stalked away from her, casting a miserable glance at Trynne. “I already feel like a fool. There’s no need to add salt to the wound.”

Trynne glanced over at Captain Staeli. He had been summoned as well to account for his role in the scene. Elwis had claimed both men had attacked him, and the whole affair had exploded into flaming spurts of accusation and threats of retribution. Trynne sighed. Within hours of Myrddin’s pronouncement, the kingdom was already roiling with inner conflict. Staeli had answered briefly and curtly amidst the passion and bluster. He looked calm, but she watched him pacing slowly along the far wall.

“I’m not trying to torture you, Fallon; just be sure you’ve learned your lesson.” Lady Evie clenched the bloodstained rag in her hands. “You’re nearly a man now. You can’t afford to make such costly mistakes. Sometimes, we aren’t given a second chance. Actions have consequences.”

Fallon’s mouth was twisted into a pained frown. “I know, Mother,” he said softly, looking at her with hurt in his eyes. “I will do better next time. Next time, Prince Arse-turias will be the one bleeding on the floor.”

His mother threw up her hands. “Iago Fallon Llewellyn, have you heard nothing I’ve said this past hour? He shamed you, yes. Even worse, he shamed you in front of your peers and in front of girls. But the blame belongs to you. You assumed that you were better than him. The Espion could have told you that he’s been training since he was ten years old and is likely one of the best swordsmen, if not the best, in Brugia. He’s had four or five masters.”

Fallon rounded on her amidst his pacing. “And how I am to know such things if no one tells me anything? You and Father are keeping secrets from me right now.” He shot Trynne an angry look as well. “What are you hiding from me?”

“Fallon,” his mother said curtly, “I would tell you if I could. But we were commanded by the king to keep it silent. Even from you. I see by your angry glance that Trynne hasn’t broken her word either, and I’m proud of her for it. I can expect such discretion from the daughter of Lord Kiskaddon. Apparently it’s too much to expect from my own son?”

Her last blow rocked Fallon like a punch to the stomach. He stared at her, miserable, and Trynne wished she hadn’t been there to witness his shame.

A wall of silence came up between them after that, making Trynne squirm inside.