The Hollow Crown (Kingfountain #4)

“Like what?”

“Now is not the time. Lord Amrein told me that some Genevese ships returned recently from the East. There’s a civil war going on in Chandigarl.”

“I’ve not even heard of that place,” Trynne said, scrunching up her nose in embarrassment.

“It’s one of the massive eastern kingdoms far from our borders. They invented the game of Wizr over there. Something to keep an eye on.” Together they started down the steps to join the procession.

There was a tug on Trynne’s arm, and suddenly Fallon was at her other side. He was easily as tall as her father, which she detested because she was short, like her mother.

“What do you want?” she said scornfully. She shot a glance at her father. “He tried to get me to laugh by making faces at me.”

“No, I was trying to make you smile,” Fallon said. He put one arm around her shoulders in a sideways sort of hug. “You looked so serious.”

“And smiling would have helped?” she asked with growing anger. She still hadn’t forgiven him for his rude remarks from earlier.

“I like your smile, Cousin!” he said, and then he made an exaggeratedly serious look that was mocking her on another level.

“Fallon, you are—!” she started, nearly grinding her teeth with fury, but he barked out a laugh and interrupted.

“Actually, I came to apologize for my rudeness earlier. I’m a jack and I know it. I can’t help myself. You just take yourself too seriously, Trynne. I consider it my duty to make you stop. See you at the palace.” He patted her on the back in a brotherly way and then skipped down the steps to join his parents.

Trynne kept walking down the steps to the front of the sanctuary, but her mind was busy unraveling her feelings about Fallon. In many ways he was like an older brother or a cousin. He had been sent in wardship to Owen and Sinia for several years during their youth to learn how to be a man. After his fourteenth birthday, he’d returned to Atabyrion. It was there he’d sprouted like a beanstalk. She wondered whether her parents—and his—had intended them for each other. Her mother could see the future, but she rarely spoke of events until after they happened. When Trynne tried to pry for secrets, her mother would look at her seriously and then say nothing. It was infuriating.

Trynne sighed and then sidled closer to her father, resting her head on his arm while holding his hand with both of hers.

“Father, did you know Morwenna is Fountain-blessed?” she asked him softly.

“Yes,” he answered. “She started showing the signs about the same time you did.”

“I think she’s lonely,” Trynne said.

Her father grunted. “Yes, I suppose she must be. She chooses to spend so much time in Glosstyr with her father.” There was another layer of meaning to his words, and Trynne wondered what it could be. Her father was so wise and cunning. She wasn’t at all surprised that he knew about Morwenna’s ability.

“Do you know what her gift is?” she asked him.

He shook his head. “Not yet. It’s early still.”

Just as they were about to leave the sanctuary and enter the tumultuous street, a voice called out from behind them. “Lord Owen?”

They turned around to face Lord Amrein. Father asked, “What is it?”

“Your wife just appeared in the sanctuary alcove with your son. I thought you’d want to know.” The spymaster wrinkled his brow in confusion as his attention shifted to Trynne. “You have some crepe or something on your dress . . .” He reached behind her and pulled off a strand of crinkled crepe that was not part of her outfit at all. Her mind flashed back to the memory of Fallon slipping his hand around her shoulders.

“He didn’t!” she seethed, and snatched it from Lord Amrein. She glowered, trying to find him in the crowd, but he was already with his family. Raw fury boiled inside her. She wished she were a poisoner and could get her revenge in any number of interesting ways.

But Trynne’s rage vanished when she saw her mother approaching them swiftly, tears streaming down her cheeks.





CHAPTER THREE


The Ring Table




Trynne had never seen her mother so distraught, and it was worrying because she knew that Sinia could see the future. The worry was a tangible thing that writhed inside her, and it only made it worse when her father told her in a curt command to take her brother to the palace and wait for them there. Gripping her little brother’s hand, she escorted Jorganon away from the sanctuary of Our Lady.

“Are you feeling better?” she asked her brother, but he looked miserable and pale. He shook his head and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

The walk to Kingfountain passed in a blur as Trynne’s mind whirled through the many possibilities. There was no way she could guess at the news, which only made her discomfort worse. Gannon, as she sometimes called him, was too young to be hounded for information. Although he was still sick, he was curious about everything and started tugging on her hand, eager to approach a vendor with a string of sausages. She reined him back and continued her hurried pace toward the palace.

“Is everything well, my lady?” asked a voice at her shoulder. It was Davyn Staeli, her Espion bodyguard. He wore no badge or insignia marking him as the duke’s man. His brown hair was balding on top and his beard was trimmed. Two swords were belted to his waist, a long sword and a shorter one, and he used both with equal proficiency. The buckles on his leather tunic front were cinched and proper. He was a meticulous man, her own personal shadow. Though he usually kept a discreet distance, he must have sensed her grave mood, her hurry.

“I don’t think so, Captain Staeli,” she murmured, casting him a worried look. “Father wouldn’t tell me.” He frowned at her words, his dark eyes brooding, and then dropped back a few paces. Still, he followed her more closely, a hand on the hilt of his short sword. She saw him make a few surreptitious nods, which indicated the presence of other unseen Espion.

Her parents had insisted that she have a personal guard after the attack. Sometimes it bothered her that she was watched night and day, but at such a vulnerable moment, she was grateful for Captain Staeli’s reassuring presence.