The Hollow Crown (Kingfountain #4)

“Never,” Trynne said obstinately. “Go on and get your pie, Fallon. We’ll probably be done by the time you get back to the castle.”

He wore a dagger on his belt—he was ten after all—and closed his fist around it. “Do you want me to bring you one, Trynne?”

“Blueberry,” she answered, not taking her eyes off the board. She was calculating all the possible moves her father might make.

“I don’t like blueberries,” he said with a sniff.

“Get whatever berry you want, then,” she chided, watching eagerly to see what her father would do next.

“I like apples,” he said.

“They have apple tarts at Madame Fisk’s,” she said absently.

“Where is that?”

“Two streets past Grenuin,” she answered. She could walk Ploemeur blindfolded without losing her way.

“You wanted raspberry, right?”

“Fallon!” Trynne sighed with exasperation.

“He’s just goading you,” Owen said with a laugh. They could both hear Fallon chuckle as he sauntered away. Her father’s next move countered her threat with one of his own. She was about to respond quickly, but she paused again, tapping her finger on her lips, trying to see if there was another way. Her father was always adept at finding solutions no one else would consider—a quality she wished to share.

Not long afterward, Trynne’s mother, Sinia, came into the solar with a guest. Trynne glanced up and recognized the newcomer as Lord Amrein, master of the Espion. The game was halted immediately. Trynne’s eyes shot to the little white patch amidst her father’s dark hair, which she adored. It was the mark he had earned when Ankarette saved his life all those years ago.

“That you are even here does not bode well, Kevan,” Owen said simply as he rose from the stuffed chair opposite Trynne. His frown deepened the wrinkles around his eyes; he expected bad news. “I take it that Brugia has besieged Callait at long last.”

The master of the Espion smiled and shook his head. “It never ceases to amaze me how you know things before you’ve been told. Am I to assume that Lady Sinia had a vision?” He glanced at Trynne’s mother expectantly.

Sinia nodded, her gaze guarded and thoughtful. “The king sent you to bring Owen to Kingfountain.”

“Indeed, my lady. The matter is most urgent. King Maxwell has hit Callait with his largest force and blockaded the city with his fleet.”

“That’s bold of him,” Owen said flatly. He sounded neither surprised nor worried. Trynne knew that no man could best her father in battle. There was no doubt of what the outcome would be.

“Bold, stupid, call it what you will,” the Espion master said with a shrug. “The king would like you to advise him. I came by boat, which is the fastest transportation I can muster, but with your lady’s help, you can be at Kingfountain this evening.”

Owen glanced at his wife a moment. Her hand covered her swollen belly protectively. The two exchanged a glance that was private and serious. Trynne didn’t understand it, but she was excited by the prospect of war. Her father had managed to subdue all of King Drew’s enemies through his tactics and cleverness. Now, it would seem that it was King Maxwell’s turn to fall into line.

“Can I come with you, Father?” Trynne pleaded. She loved visiting Kingfountain.

He glanced down at her, his raised eyebrows showing he was surprised by her question, and perhaps a little annoyed. “No, Trynne. You’re only seven. You need to stay in Ploemeur.”

She understood why she had to stay, but it frustrated her. There was an ancient magic that held the Deep Fathoms at bay and kept them from sweeping over the duchy of Brythonica. The invocations needed to be renewed regularly, and by someone from Trynne’s lineage. Since Sinia and Owen didn’t know how long they’d be away, Trynne would have to stay behind to manage the defenses of the borders of Brythonica. It was an important job, but she chafed at the thought of being trapped in Ploemeur.

Trynne hungered to see the rest of the world, which she had only learned about by stories from her father. She wanted to see the giant waterfalls of Dundrennan. She longed to visit Fallon’s homeland, Atabyrion, and visit Wizr Falls. She’d been to Pree when the treaty was signed, but she could remember only snatches of the journey. Her mother’s magic as a Wizr made it possible to cross great distances. But that same magic bound her to Ploemeur so she could keep the boundaries that had been set by ancient Wizrs long dead and gone.

The adults were talking again, not including her, and Trynne wished she had gone with Fallon to fetch treats from the city. But while she wouldn’t be able to finish the game anyway, at least she’d be able to see her parents off. Within the hour, she followed them to the bubbling fountain inside the chapel of the palace. From that fountain, Sinia could transport them to any of the major fountains along the linked paths binding the kingdoms’ cities together. She listened in on their adult conversation for a while, grew bored, and then walked around the edge of the fountain, running her hand along the smooth stone. There were flecks of wetness from the constant splashes of the waters. Her father had donned his hauberk and war tunic. He’d strapped his sword over both, and she noticed the raven-marked scabbard that was so special to him. A relic of the Fountain, it healed the wearer, and her father claimed it had saved his life more than once. She was relieved to see him wearing it. Her parents clasped hands and gestured for her to come.

“Try not to argue too much with Fallon,” Sinia said gently.

“I’ll try, but he really can be difficult sometimes,” she said sincerely, making both of her parents laugh for reasons she couldn’t understand.

Her father ran his fingers through her dark, curly hair. Trynne liked her hair color, even though its mouse-brown tint wasn’t as fashionable as her mother’s golden locks. She rarely fussed over her hair as girls were supposed to, but she privately enjoyed the way it linked her to the Kiskaddons. For while the people of Ploemeur doted on her, which she enjoyed, it was her father’s approval she sought most. He teased some of her curls, then knelt down and kissed her cheek. She kissed his cheek in return, the stubble tickling her lips.

“I’ll miss you, Papa,” she said, squeezing him tightly. Her mother bent more awkwardly with her swollen abdomen, and pressed a kiss into her hair.

“Will you stay long, Maman?” Trynne asked, hugging her in return.

“I don’t think so. You will be in charge while we are gone.”

Trynne beamed. It was disappointing they were leaving without her, but it was heartening to know they trusted her. A mist rose up from the water, and when it receded, they both were gone.