The Hollow Crown (Kingfountain #4)

Her weakness lasted for just another moment before a vengeful fury blazed up inside her like an iron poker yanked from the depths of the furnace, glowing with power and heat. It startled her with how hotly it burned. This was the man the Espion had been hunting since before her birth. She had unmasked his illusion, noticed him as he had noticed her, and she was going to drag his sorry carcass back to the palace of Kingfountain so he could stand trial for treason. But no matter what he’d done to her, to her father, she would not kill him. No, she had sworn an oath never to do that.

She shoved the book she had just purchased into Captain Staeli’s surprised hands and rushed to the door.

Dragan fled.

“I can wrap that in paper if you want to protect it?” the bookmaker called after her, but Trynne was heedless of his words. Another patron opened the door. Trynne collided with him, but she didn’t even pause to apologize before slipping past him. Dragan’s fancy ratty jacket stood out, and she fixed her sights on him and hurried through the crowd, not quite running but trying to gain ground.

He walked with a brisk vigor, tapping his hat politely at those he passed and stealing from several with deft hands that infuriated her, knowing that it was deliberately done because she was watching him.

Staeli caught up to her, his voice a growl. “Is that the one?” he seethed. “The false noble? He’s of the age. Are you sure?”

“I have never been more certain,” Trynne answered, her heart thundering in her ears. Dragan was keeping just ahead of them, slipping through the crowd. She felt him trying to cloak himself in his magic, but the force of her spell was still at work and he couldn’t hide yet.

“Then it’s no accident we were here today,” Staeli grumbled. He stuffed her new book into his pack as he walked. He sounded more emotional than usual, and Trynne realized it was because he harbored his own deep resentment against Dragan. He had been called as Trynne’s protector because of him. Their fates were all entwined.

“Faster,” Trynne said, breaking into a jog. She wished she had a moment to change from her Brugian-style dress into the men’s clothes she had brought to compete in the Gauntlet. People were looking at her with annoyance for barging through the crowd, but she couldn’t care less as she dodged past the whippet dogs. Her eyes were fixed on the back of Dragan’s head, popping in and out of sight amidst the rabble.

“If we lose sight of him . . .” she whispered under her breath.

Suddenly Dragan broke into a run, cutting through the crowd, deftly weaving through several people.

“He’s going for the bridge!” Staeli warned, and began to run as well.

Trynne wondered if she should cry out to enlist others to help, but they were close to him. Surely they would make it. Dragan jogged up a narrow stone bridge, plowing his way through the crowd as people grunted and hollered at his rudeness. Some of the dogs began barking with the commotion, and soon it sounded as if the entire city was joining the chase as the yaps and barks spread like wildfire.

Captain Staeli reached the bridge first and elbowed his way through. Trynne was hot on his heels, trying to keep sight of Dragan and failing amidst the sea of bobbing heads. She felt another prickle of Fountain magic and sensed that he had turned invisible on the bridge. Her spell had ended over the water. She remembered her mother had once said that some spells didn’t work over water at all; it was a natural barrier that provided protection from some of them.

Staeli stopped halfway across the bridge, searching the crowds, his face growing agitated with anger. “I lost him!” he snarled.

“I feel him still. Follow me,” Trynne said. She could sense his power, although she could not see him, and knew he was just ahead of them. In fact, she sensed him along the rail. “He’s almost to the other end!” she shouted, hurrying forward.

Staeli responded immediately and continued to press against the crowd. The hostile glares and occasional counter-shoves ended when they finally reached the other side. With all the distractions swirling around her, Trynne focused her thoughts and sensed the direction he was going. She was the only one who could lead them and she knew invoking the word again would be useless. All he would need to do was dart over another bridge, or run far enough out of range.

Dragan led them through a crowded main street before darting into an alley. She followed, drawing out a small dagger hidden in her girdle.

As she and the captain slowed to a brisk walk, Trynne sensed Fountain magic coming from behind them. There was another Fountain-blessed person in the area.

Had Dragan assembled other criminals who were Fountain-blessed? Was he luring them to a place where they’d be outnumbered and then murdered? But how could that be? How had Dragan known that Trynne would be there in the first place?

“I sense another one behind us,” Trynne said, touching Staeli’s shoulder. He jerked his head at her in surprise. He could not see their foe at the moment, but it was obvious he trusted Trynne’s powers. His faith in her was heartening.

“How far away?” he asked, glancing backward.

“Not far. They can feel me just as I can feel them. We’re being followed as well.”

“I don’t like this,” Staeli said, shaking his head. “We’d better catch him before the other catches us.”

“I agree,” Trynne said. “Then we run.”

She started down the alley, still sensing the invisible thief ahead of them. Staeli stayed close, but he continually looked backward, keeping watch for their tail. The alley was full of twists and turns and overcrowded hovels built atop each other. There was very little room to maneuver and side streets opened up quickly around them. A noxious sewer smell hung in the air.

Dragan kept pressing forward, going down and sideways, forcing Trynne to follow him. It did feel like he was leading her through a maze, one that he knew and she didn’t.

Soon, they came across a street gang dicing in the midst of one of the alleys. Dragan slipped through the band unnoticed, pausing only to shove one of them hard into his fellows, which startled them and then made them aware of Trynne and Staeli.

“That was clever,” the captain muttered darkly under his breath as the gang rose up, their clothes in tatters. Trynne felt the presence of the other Fountain-blessed closing in from behind. They were going to be trapped between the gang and their pursuer.

“Oi, looks like these two have lost their way,” said the leader of the band. He had a jaunty, foul look and much bravado.

“A pa and his little waif,” snickered another.

Trynne sensed Dragan slip around the corner ahead, and that blazing poker of anger inside her flared white-hot. He was getting away! As soon as he joined the main street again, he could slough off his magic, making it impossible for her to track him from afar.

Captain Staeli drew his swords. He might not have understood their language, but there was no misunderstanding the tone.

“He’s got weapons, man,” one of the gang said worriedly to the cocky leader. “Could be the prince’s spies . . .”

“Nah, dressed too well,” said another.

“The girl is ugly enough,” snorted another man.

Trynne and Staeli had slowed down and stopped. The other Fountain-blessed person would be arriving soon.

She looked at the captain and then nodded. “Be quick.”