The Hollow Crown (Kingfountain #4)

Captain Staeli grunted with a smirk. “It won’t take long.”

Then her protector rushed into the gang like a dog itching for a fight. He struck with the flat of his blade and his elbows, stomped with his feet, and used his shoulders to crush them into the brick walls. Several tried to grab him and gang up on him, but Staeli was efficient, brutal, and adept at cracking skulls.

One of the gang slipped past him with a dagger. “Oi, lass! I’ll take that purse if you please,” he said, jutting his chin toward her purse and wagging his dagger at hers. “The blade too. It’s nicer than mine.”

“Take it, then,” Trynne said, turning the hilt to face him. He looked a little surprised by her quick acquiescence, but he reached for it all the same. She deliberately dropped it, and as soon as his eyes tracked toward it, she kicked him in the face, breaking his nose and dropping him.

Her magic twinged in warning as another man rushed up to grab her. Spinning to the side, she dodged the outstretched arm and felt the weakness of his momentum through her magic. With a quick snatch, she grabbed his wrist and used his charge to spin him around and into the wall. He collided with the stone, grunting in pain and shock. Trynne grabbed the back of his shirt, then kicked the side of his knee sharply.

Trynne glanced up just as their pursuer entered the alley. It was a woman, wearing a hooded cloak and a beautiful dress in the Brugian style. Their two magics clashed for a moment before recognition settled in.

It was Morwenna Argentine, the poisoner of Kingfountain.

Captain Staeli kneed one of the gang members in the stomach and then shoved him down. Between the two of them, they had mastered eight or nine men, and most were collapsed in a heap.

“Morwenna!” Trynne gasped in surprise. She did not release her grip on her magic, which she quickly used to search for the poisoner’s weaknesses. Their meeting like this was highly suspicious, especially after the close call with Dragan. As Trynne’s magic worked, she sensed the poisoner was armed with three daggers, a needle comb, and an assortment of poisons, including vials and powders and a spring-loaded ring on her finger. Trynne sensed that Morwenna’s body was disciplined and fit from her training at the poisoner school. But through the defenses, she sensed one glaring weakness. Morwenna’s neck was vulnerable. She could be choked, strangled, drowned—anything that could stop her breath. It was a little surprising to see such a thing. Morwenna was trying to gauge her in the same way, but the poisoner’s magic could not penetrate hers—it parted around her like a river around a stubborn boulder.

The two stared at each other with suspicion and then, almost as if by mutual agreement, let their magics subside.

The poisoner approached warily, casting her gaze first to Trynne and then to Staeli. She noted the bodies sprawled in the alley.

“Well, you’re certainly the last person I expected to find at the end of this chase,” Morwenna said, her eyes still showing a bit of mistrust. “I was following two Fountain-blessed. Where is the other?”

“What are you doing here?” Trynne asked, still feeling wary and confused. “I thought you were in Pisan?”

Morwenna’s eyebrows lifted. “I was. I finished the school a year ago. I’ve been on assignments for my brother ever since. Did you come here through the ley lines? Of course you did, why am I even asking. That’s how I came as well.”

Trynne’s eyes bulged with surprise at that. The ley lines were a closely guarded secret, normally used only by trained Wizrs.

“I learned about them in Pisan,” Morwenna said. “Who were you following? I heard one of the competitors for the Gauntlet was Fountain-blessed. An archer from Legault. Was that him?”

Trynne shook her head. “No. I was after a man named Dragan.” She looked at Morwenna carefully to see if she recognized the name.

Morwenna did startle, her eyes widening with surprise. “The man who attacked you?” she whispered. “That was him? Where is he now? I don’t sense him anymore.” She was staring down the alley warily.

“He led us into this rabble before slipping away. He’s not using his magic right now.”

“If he’s here,” Morwenna said firmly, “I need to find him and arrest him. The Espion has been hunting him for years.”

“But why are you here? Are you on a mission to hunt Dragan?” Trynne asked, still not certain how to handle all the information she had just received.

Morwenna blinked with surprise. “No, I’m here because of the Gauntlet. Fallon asked me to come. Does he know you’re here?” Her eyes lit up with interest. “He didn’t mention you were coming too.”

That uncomfortable nauseating sensation blossomed in Trynne’s stomach again.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN


The King’s Poisoner



Trynne was so shocked by Morwenna’s statement that she stumbled over her next words and felt her cheeks flush. “No—that’s not—I wasn’t—”

“I’ve embarrassed you,” Morwenna said, touching her arm. “Forgive me. I’m still so surprised to find you here. This isn’t the proper place to become reacquainted.” She glanced down at the writhing bodies of the gang and smirked. “I’m glad Captain Staeli was with you, so you didn’t have to use much of your magic,” she added conspiratorially. “The last word you uttered was what drew my attention. I felt it from far away. Come, let’s go the way you felt Dragan going. What did he look like? How would I recognize him? I’ve heard very few have actually seen him. Some have taken to calling him ‘the Ghost.’”

Trynne quickly described what they had seen him wearing as they all walked briskly to the end of the alley. Shortly thereafter, they arrived at the main street on the river’s edge. Everywhere Trynne looked, there were dogs on leashes, men and women in identical black velvet hats, and street vendors. The air hung heavy with the scents of food and the blooms in a nearby flower wagon.

The foot traffic went both ways, and there were gondoliers in the river scooping their way along in both directions as well. Morwenna clung to Trynne’s arm as they stood in the alcove, watching the crowd.

“I love watching people,” Morwenna confided. “But now we’re trying to spot a man in shabby nobleman’s clothes. One without a whippet.” She clucked her tongue. “If only I’d come sooner. I’m going to hate having to report this to my brother and your father.” Morwenna frowned at the thought, still searching the crowd. Then she turned and raised her eyebrow in an almost accusing way. “I do need to report this, Trynne, despite our friendship. Does your father know you’re here? Will he be upset if he finds out?”

Trynne was still battling her inner demons and almost didn’t hear the question. Morwenna had been invited by Fallon to meet her in Brugia? What did that mean? How did she know about ley lines? Trynne’s curiosity was screaming to know the answers.