The Hollow Crown (Kingfountain #4)

Trynne saw her mother was also struggling to maintain her composure, but she did so with grace and determination.

Owen cast his gaze around the chamber once more, staring at the faces of those he loved best. His eyes were shining, close to tears, and it wrenched Trynne’s heart to see him that way. It looked as if he might break apart at any moment, but the Fountain must have been giving him strength to turn his emotions into purpose.

“Farewell, my children,” Sinia bid them, her voice betraying the ache in her heart.

A moment later they were gone.




It would take a fortnight for her father’s army to reach Guilme. Sinia, who had remained at Kingfountain to advise Queen Genevieve, informed her of the progress through messages left in the fountain. Each morning, Trynne returned to Averanche to train the ladies the queen had sent to her. She practiced in her new armor, getting used to the heft and feel of it. She had also sewn a war banner for herself—a horse’s head painted blue. Because of her many duties in Averanche and Brythonica, her grandparents had assumed the primary responsibility for her brother’s care, and he enjoyed the time spent with his cousins. But he missed his mother deeply, and Trynne found herself consoling him at the end of each day. She spent time reading him stories from The Vulgate. He liked the adventures and the names of the heroes from the past, especially the Fountain-blessed ones. Often he’d fall asleep while she read, his face a picture of peace that melted her heart. She imagined that her father might have looked like Gannon as a child, except for the dark hair with the tuft of white. Seeing her brother in that way filled her with tenderness.

It was an agonizingly long fortnight. Gahalatine’s army was encamped outside the city of Guilme. Strangely, it had not yet begun to test the city’s defenses. The fleet of treasure ships blockaded the harbor, preventing aid from reaching the city by water. Grand Duke Maxwell and Prince Elwis had set up camp within a league of Guilme to keep an eye on the hostile army. Reinforcements arrived every day as King Drew’s army began to build. Despite the detailed reports, Trynne longed to be at the camp herself.

She spent time studying the charts with the ley lines to determine the course of her arrival. She could disembark from the ley line anywhere along the strand, although it would be easier to arrive at a fountain. There was a village west of Guilme along the same line where she could purchase a horse, though she imagined they would be costly during a time when the army would need them.

And then the word she had been patiently awaiting finally arrived. Owen’s forces had reached Maxwell’s camp with the king.




Trynne rode toward the encampment atop a blue roan with a dark mane and speckled hide. She wore the ring on her finger that would enable her to disguise her appearance, but she didn’t want to attract attention from Morwenna or her father or any other Fountain-blessed by using it yet. She’d painted half her face with woad, just as she had at the Gauntlet in Marq. Most of the soldiers were decorated somewhat in mud and dirt from the long march across the kingdom. Smoke from cook fires choked the hazy sky. She’d arrived later in the day than she’d expected, but her mother had told her that was common when traveling on the east–west ley lines.

No one tried to stop Trynne or ask her questions. Everywhere she looked, soldiers were setting up small tents. Many were just sleeping on blankets on the ground. Her father had chosen to camp with his army, separated from Gahalatine’s host by a river and a single stone bridge. It was on higher ground and overlooked the plains where the enemy was camped. Trynne hoped that their position afforded them some advantages.

When Trynne reached the hub and summit of the camp, a hilltop thick with shaggy eucalyptus, twisted pine, spear-like cypress, and a strange fernlike plant with purple flowers, she could finally see the coast and the city down below. It was immediately clear why her father had chosen the hillside for his camp. It gave an unparalleled view of the battlefield, plus it was far enough from the enemy—and the city—to be defensive, but not steep enough to make communications difficult. Soldiers had been tromping up and down the hill all day to share the view of the enemy and to prepare for the coming conflict.

From atop her roan, she stared down in awe and fear.

Guilme was a sizable city built on a bay fed by the main river that formed a protection for the king’s army. The walls were formidable and full of towers and spires that bore the flag of Brugia. It was a hilly city full of elegant manors and crowded streets that were arranged in orderly rows. From her vantage point, Trynne could see the streets were deserted. Most of the inhabitants were skulking indoors, no doubt.

It was not the size of Gahalatine’s fleet that had made Trynne gasp, but the bulk of the ships that had transported them. She had never seen such waterborne monstrosities in her life. They had been called treasure ships, but that did not do them justice at all. She had often visited the harbor at Ploemeur and seen the Genevese trading vessels docked there. One of these treasure ships would have occupied the entire wharf. Each had nine masts with sails that looked large enough to capture the wind and hold it fast. The ships of Kingfountain looked like rowboats in comparison. The ocean surrounding Guilme was teeming with similar ships, more than she could easily count, and each had a cortege of smaller vessels hunkering near it like barnacles.

“By the Fountain,” Trynne whispered aloud, shaking her head. She no longer wondered how Gahalatine moved such massive numbers of men.

“Impressive sight, isn’t it?” said a soldier nearby, seeing her gawk.

She collected herself and nodded.

“The king’s spies are still tryin’ to count the size of the army camped below us down there.” The soldier grimaced and shook his head. “Don’t think a man can count that high. Thank the Fountain that Lord Owen is on our side.”

“You from Westmarch?” Trynne asked the young man.

“Aye,” he said proudly.

“Do you know Captain Staeli?”

“Sullen Staeli? Course!”

“Where are his men camped?”

“Yonder, midway down the hill,” he said, pointing in that direction. Trynne squinted and saw the banner of Averanche.

She tapped the flank of her roan and started down through the brush. As she went around, she saw that fortifications had been erected, mostly pickets topped with sharpened stakes. Soldiers were hard at work digging trenches and clearing ground. They looked confident and stubborn as Trynne passed them. Their morale was high even in the face of such a host. That was promising.