The Hollow Crown (Kingfountain #4)

“I know that!” he snapped. He flushed, no doubt aggrieved with himself for losing his temper, and when he spoke again, it was in a steadier tone. “I didn’t come to fight with you, Trynne. We’ve both heard the stories all our lives. But you are Fountain-blessed too. You have gifts that I cannot have, no matter how hard I work. I’ve trained and I’ve pushed myself and done everything I can do to prove myself worthy of a single, meager gift.” He shook his head. “Yet I hear nothing. Nothing.” He gazed down the hall, his expression brooding. “Sometimes I wonder if it’s even real.”

She stared up at him, surprised that he was being so vulnerable with her. But considering how he had treated her the previous day, she was determined to be frosty.

“It’s real, Fallon,” she said. “And this isn’t a game for children. If you want to be trusted, stop acting like one.”

He shot her a surprised look. “What?”

There were so many people in the corridor, many of them glancing their way, and she felt uncomfortable with all the spectators. She didn’t wish to argue with him in front of strangers.

“Admit it, Fallon. You’re only angry because they won’t let you go with Morwenna.”

“Of course I’m angry! She’s the king’s sister . . . his blood-sister, and she’s being used like a political pawn.”

“She is a political pawn,” Trynne said with annoyance. “That’s exactly what she has wanted to be.”

He looked at her in confusion. “You’re jealous of her. I cannot imagine why.”

Trynne shot him a hot look. “Because she’s beautiful and accomplished and deadly and capable. She’s like Ankarette—”

“Tryneowy,” Fallon said softly, reaching out and brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. The way he said the name made her bones want to melt, but was he referring to her or the famous poisoner?

“What?” she said sulkily, trying to hide the tremor in her voice. Why did he have to make things so difficult?

“She’s like Ankarette Tryneowy,” he said, dropping his voice lower. “That’s why you are jealous of her. But don’t you realize that she is jealous of you? Her father used to be the king, but now is a pariah who lurks in Glosstyr like it’s his prison. Her mother dotes on her older brother. Both of your parents dote on you.”

“They do not,” she stammered.

He reached down and tipped up her chin. He was looming over her, his smell washing over her, and her insides were fluttering like a mass of whirring butterflies. Was he going to kiss her? She pressed the flat of her hands against the wall to steady herself.

“They do,” he said with a wry smile. “And so do I. We’ve been friends since we were little children, Trynne. You are so disciplined and methodical, like a Wizr set. So stern, sometimes. You have an old soul. I’ll admit I’m too hasty and impetuous. I was an utter jack in Brugia, and I hate that I hurt you.” He stared up at the wall, shaking his head. “That feels so long ago. I’m still sporting bruises where Elwis’s lackeys punched me. They couldn’t abide me winning the Gauntlet under their noses. I’ll get my revenge. But I digress. I was trying to apologize.” He gazed down at her again. “I couldn’t stand to lose you as a friend, Trynne. Say you forgive me.”

Pressing her lips together, she gazed down at the floor and nodded, her throat too thick from the storms raging inside her to speak.

“Can I ask a favor?” he asked in a sly way.

She glanced up at him, wrinkling her brow.

“I’m going to be facing the Gauntlet of Occitania next. I want to be the first who beats them all. Would you come . . . watch me? Ploemeur is not so far from Pree. Would your mother let you? Captain Taciturn can come too, of course.”

Trynne bit her bottom lip, trying not to smile.

“Stop that,” he said.

“Stop what?”

He brushed his thumb along her lip and teased the corner of her mouth. “Stop hiding your smile. You are so self-conscious about it. You have been for years. You have a pretty, lopsided smile, Trynne.”

“I am not pretty,” she said forcefully.

“Yes you are,” he said back with a chuckle. “Why do you think I’ve always teased you so much? You are too sensitive. It has shattered your confidence for too long. So . . . will you come with me to Pree? Occitania is very different from Brugia. Or so I’ve heard; I’ve never been there. We could take the ley lines if you want?”

Someone was approaching them, and Trynne glanced over and saw that it was one of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting.

“Lady Trynne, the queen wishes to see you before you depart.”

Fallon sighed and gave the girl a dark smile. Trynne watched as the girl flushed nervously, reacting to his attention the way most women did. Fallon was undeniably handsome. Fionan—as the Atabyrions said.

“Tell my sister that Lady Tryneowy will be right there. Off with you, lass.” He waved her away rudely like a household pet.

“That was unkind, Farren Llewellyn,” Trynne said, letting herself smile.

“Cousins can be so annoying,” he quipped. Then he pinched her chin. “What’s your answer?”

“I will try,” she whispered. She had already planned on going to Pree for the Gauntlet.

“I will hold you to it,” he said. “And I will come to you so we may go there together. Tell my sister I’m leaving for Edonburick with the tide to deliver the king’s messages to our parents. Then I’ll be back in Dundrennan. You could always . . . visit me . . . you know. In fact, I wish you would. There’s nothing wrong with being a little impetuous, Trynne.”

He winked at her and then strode down the hall while her insides slowly started to calm.




When the servant announced Trynne’s arrival, Genevieve met her with a kiss. She took Trynne’s hands, brought her to the balcony doors, and the two went outside together. The rush of the falls greeted them, but the signs of the river’s destruction still scarred the land. It made Trynne’s stomach tighten.

“I do need to get back to Ploemeur,” she said. “What do you want from me, Genny?”

Genevieve gazed out over the river, her face a little pale and very serious. The queen linked arms with her.

“Do you remember when we last spoke about Oath Maidens? How I said it would be six months before we discussed it again?”

Trynne swallowed. “Yes.”

Genny turned to her. “Trynne, I don’t think we have time to waste. The threat of Gahalatine is real. He is coming. What we saw from Rucrius is just a taste of what’s to come. They have magic that’s stronger than ours. I’ve spoken to the court historian, Polidoro Urbino, and learned what I could about Chandigarl, but we still know next to nothing. I fear we cannot wait for Morwenna to complete her mission.” She sighed and looked down. Then she squeezed Trynne’s arm. “I’m going to found the order despite my husband’s hesitation. I don’t like to do things in secret, but I keep hearing Myrddin’s words over and over in my head. The Oath Maidens once protected the Argentines. The first Argentine queen was one. I believe I can trust you with this secret. I believe I can entrust you with this task.”

Tell her. It’s time. The Fountain had given her permission already.

“My lady,” Trynne said, glancing back to be sure no one else was nearby. The noise of the river and the falls would have smothered their conversation anyway. “The Fountain bids me tell you.”

“Tell me what?”