The Hollow Crown (Kingfountain #4)

“Preferably one I can still swing a sword in,” Trynne answered with a raised eyebrow. “The blue one with the silver sleeves.”

After the quick change, she walked down to the training yard of the castle. It was much smaller than the one she was used to in Ploemeur, but it served the need. She had presumed that Fallon would linger abed all morning. She was a little surprised at his self-discipline, but then, he had been training for the Gauntlets.

When she reached the yard, he was sweating profusely, kneeling down with a hand resting on his sword pommel and his breath coming hard. He wore a comfortable jerkin and pants that gave no nod to his rank. She caught the glint of the chain around his neck showing the prizes he had won. He saw her approaching him from the bailey doors.

“I didn’t think you liked getting up early,” she said, hands clasped behind her back.

He rose and flourished with the sword. “I don’t. I hate it, in fact. But I do it because I am determined. All the best swordsmen in the realm train early. Strange, but true. I’d hoped to find Staeli here this morning. I’m disappointed in the man.”

Trynne blinked innocently at him. “He usually is here,” she said, glancing around as if trying to spy him in the shadows.

“Well, as long as you’re up, my lady,” he said, walking over to the weapons rack. “I suppose I could give you a lesson this morning.” He grabbed another sword from the rack and then walked over and handed it to her.

Was he testing her to see if she was the woad-faced boy who had saved him in Brugia? She stared at the blade.

“Here,” he insisted, wagging the blade at her. She took it. “Remember when we were younger? You wanted to train as a knight?”

“I remember,” she said, squeezing the weapon’s cool, leather-bound grip. He’d chosen a lighter blade for her. “So you’re going to teach me?”

“I’ve never understood the prejudice against women learning to fight,” he said, positioning himself a few steps away from her. “I heard you argued for it at court.” He raised his sword in an overhanging guard. “Come on. Follow what I do.”

Trynne stifled a smile. With her magic, she reached out to him, just a little test. He had been trained and was no novice. But he was accustomed to his opponents holding back because he was a prince. Despite his urging them to work him hard, too many had flattered him.

“Like this?” Trynne asked, bringing up her blade to mirror his, but she let her elbow droop.

“Yes, exactly. Your elbow, a little higher.”

Good for him.

“There was a young man at the Gauntlet in Marq,” he continued, moving to his left by crossing his legs in front of him. Instinctively, she began to rotate with him to keep him from flanking her. Her skirts concealed her movement. “Had half his face painted in woad.”

“In woad, you say?” she replied, trying to sound interested.

Fallon was giving her a knowing look. He did suspect her. She sensed what he was going to do just before he did it. He was going to try to trick her into revealing herself by attacking in a startling way. Someone trained in the sword would respond by instinct, thus falling into the trap.

He had no idea what she really could do.

Suddenly he double-stepped forward and swept the sword around toward her neck. It would have terrified a normal person, but she sensed his intention was not to harm her. It would have been all too easy to block, counter, and leave him on the ground weaponless.

Trynne gasped in surprise and flung down her blade. It clattered loudly on the stone.

“Fallon Llewellyn, are you trying to kill me?” she said in mock surprise, backing away from him.

He looked confused and chagrined at how his plan had backfired.

“I’m sorry! Please, I’m sorry! Forgive me!” he babbled, holding up his other hand while lowering his sword arm.

“I thought you were supposed to teach me,” she said, trying to sound rattled.

“I’m very sorry. It was part of the lesson. I should have warned you.” He was still reeling from her unexpected reaction. “You see, you never know when someone is going to really attack you. The overhanging guard, like the one I showed you, helps to counter a blow like that.”

Trynne knew all this, but she enjoyed seeing him so discomfited. “Well, what was I supposed to do?”

He transformed into a patient and gentle teacher and spent the next hour with her in the training yard, going over the basics of sword strategy. She pretended it was her very first lesson and asked many questions.

After the sun rose, he dismissed himself to change clothes for their journey to Pree. Trynne also said she was going to change and would meet him for breakfast later. As she left the yard, she found Captain Staeli in the shadows of the corridor, leaning against it with a smug look on his face.

“Well done, lass,” he said.





CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE


The Sanctuary at St. Denys



Trynne had visited Pree twice before with her father. The name Kiskaddon was not a cherished one in Occitania, but it was no longer hated. Her father had defeated King Chatriyon multiple times, leading to an alliance between the countries, consummated after the king died of natural causes and his son, also named Chatriyon, succeeded to the throne as a child. Truly, his mother, once an Argentine princess, was the de facto ruler of the kingdom. Elyse Vertus had been on good terms with Owen since his childhood at Kingfountain.

Because King Drew allowed Occitania to remain self-governing, there had been multiple years of peace and prosperity. Pree was flourishing and was known throughout the realms as a center of fashion, art, and music. For the visit, Trynne had chosen a beautiful Occitanian gown of silver and lavender.

“It suits you,” Fallon told her with an impish smile when he saw her. They had arranged to meet outside the chapel in the castle of Averanche, from where Trynne would transport them over the ley lines.

Dressed in the garb of a knight of Ceredigion, he was leaning against a pillar, his thumbs hooked in his sword belt.

She inclined her head at the compliment. “Do you know where in Pree the Gauntlet will be? There are many sanctuaries in the city, and I can save us some walking.”

He was admiring her openly, with a roguish look that made her uncomfortable. His unruly hair was certainly not in the Occitanian fashion, but there would be outsiders from multiple realms visiting for the occasion.

“They built the Gauntlet track outside the city,” he said. “South side of town. The burg of St. Denys. There is a sanctuary there, I believe.”

“There is,” Trynne said. She knew of it. “Are you ready to go?”

He gestured behind him at the lapping fountain.

She turned to Captain Staeli, who was, as ever, close behind. “I’ll see you this evening, Captain.”