The Hollow Crown (Kingfountain #4)

“Aye, my lady,” Staeli said. He looked her seriously in the eye and then hefted the glaive. “I’d have been dead myself several times over if not for your training.” He gave her a look full of tenderness and appreciation. “Thank ye.”

She felt her throat catch at his expression of gratitude. Then she pulled inside herself, uttered the word of power, and clasped onto a series of ley lines that would bring her to the grove.




The sun had just risen in Brythonica when Trynne arrived in the grove full of house-sized boulders, hidden deep inside one of the hunting forests. The oak tree with the stream trickling through its roots was full of leaves, acorns, and buds of mistletoe, and birds of all sizes perched in its branches, calling out heartbreakingly poignant melodies. The grove was winter-like, full of crushed hailstones. The magic of the silver bowl had been invoked, although it was still chained to the plinth.

Trynne could see her breath coming out in puffs of mist. The song of the birds was intensely beautiful, but she wished she could silence them. Her boots took a few crunching steps over the icy shards before she stopped, her eyes bulging.

There was blood everywhere. The ice was melting, but the stain stood vividly against the white.

Trynne covered her mouth, feeling light-headed from more than the magic. Her knees were shaking violently.

There, on the ground in the middle of the grove, lay a severed hand.

“No, no, no,” she whimpered, dizziness threatening to make her faint.

Taking a few weary steps, she collapsed onto the wintry ground by the hand. It was as pallid as a lump of clay. Her skin crawled with dread as she reached out and touched it. So cold. The wedding band was missing from one of the splayed fingers.

She closed her eyes, unable to bear the sight of it. And then she groped the hand until she touched the press of metal on the ring finger. The invisible ring was still there.

Trynne slid it off the hand and the ring suddenly appeared in her palm. She felt a ripple of Fountain magic well up inside it.

“Papa,” she choked, staring down at the ring through her wet lashes.





CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE


Broken




There were tears in Trynne’s eyes as she told the tale of what she had found in the hidden grove. She had not spoken a word about the Battle of Guilme. A hushed silence fell over the solar. King Drew took in a haggard breath, his cheekbone bruised from a buffet he’d taken on his helmet during the battle. Morwenna had brought him directly to the palace before returning to the battlefield to help tend the wounded. The king was stunned, his eyes betraying his despair, but also a spark of hope.

“Then Lord Owen may still be alive,” he whispered faintly. He turned to Sinia, who bore her suffering with quiet dignity.

“I don’t know,” Sinia whispered. “I’ve seen Gahalatine’s army attacking us again. My husband was not seated at the Ring Table. There was someone else in his stead. A knight with a painted face.”

Trynne nearly flinched when her mother said the words. She glanced at Genevieve, who returned the look but also said nothing.

“The painted knight,” the king said, nodding. “He was there at the battle.” He rubbed his mouth, beginning to pace. “No one knows who he is. Some say he hails from Atabyrion.” He shrugged. “Lord Iago cannot vouch for that.”

Trynne, anxious to cut off that train of thought, interceded. “My lord, there were signs of a struggle in the grove. Muddy boot prints and redwood fronds smashed into the ice. I don’t know how many were waiting there to ambush my father. Even with his Fountain magic, he would have been outnumbered and vulnerable. I didn’t feel . . . safe trying to find a hunter to bring back to the grove. I left it in the condition in which I found it and came to the palace to tell my mother and the queen.”

“That was wise,” Genevieve said, nodding. “That grove must remain a secret. Even my husband did not tell me he had been there as a child until you shared the story.” She looked pointedly at Sinia.

Trynne’s mother sighed. “It has been protected by the Montforts for centuries. Owen was the champion of the grove. Marshal Roux was his predecessor. When the magic of the bowl is invoked inside the grove, the champion is summoned to defend it. This has been a great secret. There is only one copy of The Vulgate that contains the story of this grove. It is an ancient tale that I read as a child. It is there Myrddin was entrapped by his student, one of my ancestors.”

Queen Genevieve arched her eyebrows. “Is Owen trapped there now?”

Sinia shook her head. “Myrddin was trapped when a boulder fell and blocked the entrance to a cave in the rocks. Your husband used the hollow crown to help break that rock after a thousand years. The cave is still there. Empty.”

“I searched it myself,” Trynne said. “There was evidence of a little camp there. The ashes from a recent fire. Men had hidden in the cave for protection from the hailstorm. My lord, there was a thunderclap . . . I’ve heard . . . during the battle. Was there not?”

King Drew nodded vigorously. “Indeed there was. It brought back the memories of my childhood. I suspected that it was your father’s secret plan to attack his enemies with a storm, but the sleet and hail I expected never came.”

“He shared no such plan with me,” Sinia said. “Only someone who could use the ley lines could have done it.”

“Morwenna?” the queen asked with a tone of suspicion.

The king shook his head. “According to Lord Amrein, she was with Owen the entire time and helped fight the attackers after he disappeared.”

“Then it must have been one of the other Wizrs,” Sinia said at last. “One who knew the story of the grove.”

The pale-haired Rucrius came to Trynne’s mind, and anger formed a white-hot ball in her chest.

“We must get to the council,” King Drew said. “We must make plans to defend ourselves. Without the assistance of Lord Owen or Myrddin. What happened is a great mystery. Everyone seeks Owen in Brugia, but Trynne’s knowledge leads us elsewhere.” He tapped his bottom lip. “There’s a Fountain-blessed hunter in Dundrennan. He was a lad when I first met him, but he’s a man grown now. Carrick. He knew Lord Owen well and is loyal and discreet. He’s the one who found my sword in the ice caves. Lady Sinia, I suggest we use him to examine the grove for additional clues. It is a singular place.”

“Indeed, my lord,” Sinia said with a grateful nod.