The Hollow Crown (Kingfountain #4)

“Father doesn’t know I’m here,” Trynne said, shaking her head. “But my mother does. She sent me to get a book—”

“From the bookmaker’s shop!” Morwenna said, suddenly interested. “It was that old copy of The Vulgate, wasn’t it? I saw it in the window yesterday when I arrived.”

“You know about The Vulgate?” Trynne asked.

“Everyone knows about The Vulgate, Trynne,” Morwenna said, dropping her voice lower. “What they don’t know about is the secret that’s hidden in plain sight. You know of it, of course, or I wouldn’t be talking about it. Your mother is a Wizr, after all. I’m so jealous of you, Trynne. You get to be tutored by a truly exceptional woman. I tried to get Myrddin to tutor me, but he insisted that I must discover the words on my own. You’re special, though. What you have access to at Ploemeur is infinitely better than the scraps I found in Pisan.” She squeezed Trynne’s arm. “I can see that I’ve concerned you, so let me catch you up quickly. Then I want to take you to Oberon’s—that’s where Fallon is hiding until the Gauntlet starts,” she added in an undertone.

“It starts today, doesn’t it?” Trynne asked hopefully.

“Actually, it starts tonight,” Morwenna said. “The trials begin at dusk, so there’s still the whole day ahead. The darkness makes the challenges harder. How unlike the house of Asturias to make things complicated!” She gave Trynne a pretty smirk.

Morwenna had truly become a beauty since they had last met at the royal wedding. Her confidence had expanded and she seemed very aware of her alluring looks.

“So you didn’t come to see Fallon face the Gauntlet?” Morwenna asked.

“No, I didn’t,” Trynne said. “So he’s in hiding, then?”

“Of course! Prince Elwis hates him and has his men out searching the streets for him. He’s offered bribes to innkeepers to rat him out.” Morwenna grinned mischievously. “He’s staying at an Espion stronghold, so of course they won’t find him. He’s going to the Gauntlet in disguise so that nothing interferes with him winning the badge fairly. You’re clever to dress up as a Brugian as well.” She only glanced at Trynne occasionally, her eyes still searching the crowd for Dragan.

“Any luck spotting him, Captain?” she asked Staeli.

The captain, who was keenly observing the crowds, just shook his head no in response. His bearded mouth twisted into a discontented frown. “Too many people.”

“How do you know of the ley lines?” Trynne asked.

“A fair question. I have a very curious nature,” Morwenna answered. “There are lots of books at the poisoner school in Pisan. Some are translations. Some have been handed down for centuries—very musty. Those I like best! I came across one in the map room. The poisoner school has the best maps because it has kept track of the boundary changes between kingdoms for generations. Older maps are rather useless, so nobody looks at them very often, preferring the newer maps that have more current information. But I like studying the past. I grew up reading stories from translations of The Vulgate. I used to spend hours reading them by the fire while Father dozed.” She had a faraway look in her eyes. “Then one day I came across a map that was very different from the rest.”

“How so?” Trynne asked, but she felt she already knew.

“Well, most maps—the good ones—contain lines vertical showing north and south and horizontal ones showing east and west. Other maps mark sea routes that connect ports to ports. The map that I found looked like both, but the routes were neither sea routes nor were they simply cardinal points. What intrigued me about it was that the lines seem to gather and connect around certain cities. Like Kingfountain and Ploemeur and Marq. The lines spread out from those cities like wagon spokes. All across the map, I kept seeing those same spokes. That’s what I called them then. I didn’t know the true name. None of the people I asked about the book could explain what it meant. They offered explanations like wagon routes or some other nonsense to try and discourage me. But I would not be deterred. I’m really quite stubborn, Trynne. Especially when I want to know something.”

“But what about your poisoner studies?” Trynne asked. “I thought you wanted that?”

“I do, of course! It’s just that I’ve always been blessed with a very strong memory. I can hear a detail once and recall it later. So much of poisoner school is repetition. They teach you these little sayings and chants to help memorize plants and flowers and such.” She shrugged. “I only needed to hear things once to remember them. It normally takes three years to finish training, but I finished the studies in a year. The physical training takes longer, of course—I wasn’t going to skip that! But I had a lot of free time to read and that’s when I discovered the truth about The Vulgate. You already know this, right? That the ancient text holds words of power? If you’re Fountain-blessed, you only need to say the word—or even think it—to trigger the magic. I was so intrigued! As I read one of the older copies of The Vulgate—I think it was volume twelve—I came across the story of Myrddin using his magic to travel great distances. I discovered the word in that book. So then I went to the map room to try it out. Well, I didn’t want to startle anyone at Kingfountain by just showing up, so I tried to get to Glosstyr to see my father. But somehow I overshot it and ended up at Dundrennan instead.”

Trynne was so fascinated by the tale that she had stopped looking for Dragan. She knew Fallon had been spending much of his time at Dundrennan since becoming the duke of the North.

“The magic completely exhausted me,” Morwenna continued, shaking her head and chuckling softly to herself. “I was so spent . . . so sick . . . after leaving the fountain’s edge, I threw up and fell unconscious. The servants were startled to find me, and when I was finally strong enough to open my eyes, Fallon was there as my kindhearted nurse. He was very curious to find out how I had gotten there without anyone knowing.” Morwenna sighed and smiled with the memory. “He’s a good friend.” Then she paused, her brow wrinkling. “I’ve said something wrong. You look pale.”

Trynne felt as if a dagger had been plunged into her heart and was slowly twisting. She could hardly breathe. Her mouth was hot and dry and she was suddenly light-headed.

“Did I offend you?” Morwenna said in a worried tone.

“No . . . not at all.” It was difficult getting the words out.

Then Morwenna’s eyes widened. “Oh,” she whispered. “Oh, I see.” She began to nod her head slowly. “I’m sorry, Trynne. I was so caught up telling you my story that I hadn’t noticed it until now.” She licked her lips and glanced at the throng passing the alley entrance. “I should have picked up on it sooner, but you are very discreet. He doesn’t know; you can be certain of that.”