The Hollow Crown (Kingfountain #4)

She dropped down to one knee. “What is it like, Myrddin? How will I feel?”

He smiled again with that knowing smile. “You will never be the same again.”




When Trynne awoke in her own bed well before sunrise, she wondered if it had all been a dream. The sheets had their familiar smell, and the pillows were just the right softness. She blinked into the shadows and gloom, full of memories of what had transpired with Myrddin. Had it only been a flight of fancy?

“My lady, are you awake?”

It was Captain Staeli’s voice coming from the shadows. It was time to head out to the training yard.

“I am. I’ll be down shortly.”

“Very well, my lady.”

Trynne pushed herself up in bed, her stomach tingling with apprehension. How could she know whether it had truly happened? And then she felt it rising up inside her, an awareness not just of the distant calls of songbirds or the muted rumble of the surf. No, it was an awareness of the lives of countless others who had shared her calling. As she closed her eyes and bowed her head, she could almost hear the screams and ringing steel of ancient battlefields. Myrddin had called it the “wellspring,” the source of the Fountain that had collected all the lives and experiences of others, which she could tap into and drink from. She no longer felt like a girl of fifteen. She carried with her the wisdom of ages past. Oath Maidens had once protected Leoneyis. And they had all been destroyed by a king who’d forsaken his oaths. After he had murdered the last one, the Deep Fathoms had drowned his entire kingdom.

Then she remembered the oaths—the promises she had sworn over a handful of small stones. Five oaths in all, though she would ultimately be asked to take four more. They were the origins of the code of Virtus, the symbol of true knights. Oath Maidens were the defenders of the kingdom. Their strength came from protecting others, not from seeking to harm. Each of the five oaths whispered into her mind. If she failed in any of them, there would be dire consequences.

Never slay a man with a spear or arrow. In return, she could not be slain by such herself. Never take a life unawares or out of revenge. Never hearken to greed or take a bribe. Never swear an oath falsely. Never refuse to serve when the Fountain calls—even at the peril of life and loved ones.

The memory of the oaths made her breath come quickly. She hastily stole away from the inviting sheets and put on her training garb, her mind whirling with the snatches of memory from lives of women she didn’t know, but who were suddenly a part of her. Her fingers tightened the lacings of her leather tunic, and she wrapped the girdle around her waist and cinched the buckles. Her leather bracers were on the floor and she stooped down and strapped them on next, then tied her hair back with a band. She breathed in and out slowly, trying to master the churning tide of images that came and went with each breath. Myrddin had said that it would take time to grow accustomed to the insights and flashes sent to her by the Fountain. Patting her stomach to quell her nerves, she marched away from the changing screen and joined Captain Staeli in the hall.

He never spoke much, just followed her down to the yard, performing his duty with efficiency and honor.

When they reached the training yard, she was nervous and a little breathless.

“It’s been a few days since we trained with daggers,” Captain Staeli said as he walked in front of her to the weapons chests. “You’ve done well with underhand attacks, but today we will do overhand.”

She felt a smile tug at her mouth. In her mind, flowing like water, she instantly knew all the variations of knife fighting that had ever been taught or tried. She supposed this would be as good an opportunity as any to demonstrate to him that she was different.

Brugia, the Fountain whispered to her. You will compete in the Gauntlet. Bring him with you.

Yes, Trynne answered in her thoughts, accepting the charge.

Captain Staeli rummaged through one of the chests and withdrew a long-bladed dagger. “This was made in Atabyrion,” he said, examining it. “Fair blade. See the diamond shape near the hilt?” He handed it to her. “Now, hold it with the blade downward, along your forearm—yes, exactly like that.”

Trynne stepped away from him into the yard, summoning her Fountain magic into a trickle of power.

“Let’s see how you do for starters,” he said, hunching his shoulders as he came at her with an underhand thrust. He began to feint toward her, as if he were a street brawler with only a dagger. “How would you use the blade to defend yourself? Just see what comes naturally to you.”

Trynne nodded to him, keeping herself perfectly still and not mimicking his aggressive posture. She could sense which attack was a feint and which was real, so she didn’t waste energy pacing or stepping from foot to foot. Trynne kept the blade up near her face, watching his entire body at once.

She saw the look in Staeli’s eyes as he noticed her unusual posture. Then he lunged at her.

Since she was the one defending, the magic rushed in to aid her. Trynne deflected the attack with the dagger, then stepped around and trapped his arm against her side. Dropping to her knees, she pulled him off balance. He was already moving to free himself when she pivoted on her heel and dropped lower, using her position to throw him off balance. Staeli landed on his back, his arm still trapped in her armpit, his wrist torqued around. She pulled his pinky, and when the dagger fell out of his grip, she caught it before it hit the ground.

She released his arm and rose, holding both daggers.

The look of startled surprise on his face was worth all the strawberries in Plowman’s Field.

“Swords next,” she said. “Swords against daggers. I’m ready for you, Captain. Get on your feet.”

He blinked and then quickly rose, chafing his elbow and giving her an appraising look. “I get the swords?”

She nodded and then held both daggers underhanded.

Staeli fetched two short swords from the chest and began slicing the air with them as he shook loose his arms and shoulders. His face was one of determination.

“Are you going to attack me, Captain?” she asked. “Or do you just want to swing your arms about?”

He gave her a bemused look. She normally didn’t taunt him like that. Then he rushed at her, swinging both weapons at once in a hasty lunge that brought him close in just a moment. Trynne had him unarmed in less than a minute, one of her daggers at his throat. His response was to grapple her arm and try to fling her down, and that’s when the fight became more interesting.