The Silent Shield (Kingfountain #5)

“Thank you, yet again,” Trynne said, feeling brightened by the news. Maybe the Deep Fathoms was trying to help them? She had feared her mother wouldn’t return from the journey.

Sureya cast her eyes down. “The other girls have said that Grand Duke Elwis is the best warrior in all Ceredigion now. Many have cast their eyes on him, and it is said he is not unhandsome.” She swallowed, growing more subdued. “Is he . . . is he pleased that women are becoming warriors? Many men frown upon us.”

“I will have to ask him when I meet with him,” Trynne said with a sly smile. She suspected that Elwis had left an impression on the princess.



The smells on the beach of glass beads were familiar and soothing. The wind tousled Trynne’s hair, and she brushed aside the strands as she watched her mother and Gannon walk hand in hand. Her mother’s blond hair fanned out, so lovely and full. She was still heartbreakingly beautiful. There was so much Trynne admired her for—her gentleness, how quickly she responded to the needs of other realms, and her conviction in the Fountain’s direction.

Trynne would miss her sorely.

“And what kind of bird is that?” Sinia asked Gannon, nodding toward the white-breasted birds running back and forth along the shore.

“Plovers,” Gannon said excitedly. “Look, Mama! Pelicans! Five of them! That one is going to dive. Look! It did!”

“Yes, it did,” Sinia said, her pleasure at his enthusiasm evident in her tone. “They must catch a lot of fish with those big beaks.”

“And those over there are puffins. The bills are so orange.”

“And what about that one? With the long, pointed beak?”

“A curlew. Their beaks are as long as swords.” His memory had always impressed Trynne. Her heart filled with love for the little boy who was as happy and carefree as their father hadn’t been in his own youth. Owen’s absence made the child melancholy at times, but he knew how deeply he was loved, and Trynne was grateful that he had never grown tired of holding their mother’s hand.

The salty smell of the ocean, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore, and the cry of the seagulls overhead—all of it flooded her with memories of other times she’d visited with her mother. It was Sinia’s favorite place, but though it was beautiful, it was also a reminder of the inexorable power of the Deep Fathoms. The tiny beads of polished glass they trampled in the sand were relics of Leoneyis, a kingdom that had been swallowed by the sea. Her mother had often described to her visions she’d seen of Leoneyis at its prime—the enormous palace full of huge glass windows and glass chandeliers, dangling prisms that spun rainbows everywhere when the sunlight struck them. Yet the great wealth of the king had corrupted his heart. In time, he had forsaken the Fountain and destroyed all the Oath Maidens, ultimately depriving his kingdom of everything. Only those who had gathered in the sanctuary of St. Penryn had been spared the tidal flood that had destroyed the realm.

They walked for some distance along the shore, hidden by the huge rocks and land that formed the edge of the coast past the beach. Only at the harbor was the water deep enough to permit boats during high and low tide. Any fleet that tried to bottle in Ploemeur would end up being dashed against the rocks if it anchored too close.

Trynne’s mother had taught her the magical defenses of the city multiple times. Yet Sinia had insisted on bringing both of her children to check on them one last time.

The first of the caves could only be reached during low tide. At high tide, the low entrance was submerged, concealing it from others. The jagged stone cliff was green with moss that dripped constantly as if shedding tears. Small gnats floated in the air, and the loamy smell of decaying vegetation filled Trynne’s nose as they walked up the crisp sand to the cave. Gannon dashed ahead impetuously, grinning with excitement as he rushed into the dark entrance. The hissing surf came nigh to the mouth of the cave.

There were guards posted at the beach to prevent people from stealing the beads of polished glass, which were sold in pieces of jewelry. Guards patrolled it at night as well. But their purpose was not only to guard the ancient glass; they also guarded the caves along the shore.

Sinia ducked her head and followed Gannon into the cave, grazing the sharp rocks with her hand as if she were petting an animal. Trynne was shorter than her mother and barely needed to dip her chin to get past the opening. Gannon’s laughter echoed through the confined darkness.

“Le-ah-eer,” Sinia whispered, invoking the word of power for light.

The interior of the cave began to glow. The light emanated from various stones, but the sources were hidden beneath skeins of moss and lichen. Gannon scrambled up onto a taller rock and dug his fingers through the moss to try to see it better, grinning at the magic on display.

The ground was full of sand and shells that crunched beneath their boots. It was tall enough for even Sinia to stand straight up, but the cave was pretty small. Roots from trees up on the cliffs dug into the cave, but none so deep as to penetrate the stone. Fresh water dripped from the walls, tinkling and splashing in little waterfalls to join the sand and empty into the beach.

“This is where one of you must always come,” Sinia said. The words had been spoken quietly, almost in a whisper, but they echoed off the close walls of the cave, sounding firmer, more somber. Gannon’s expression turned serious and he turned to face her, listening carefully. They had both heard this speech many times, but it felt more solemn now.

Sinia’s eyes shone in the radiance of the glowing green moss.

“Since I was very young—your age, Gannon—I have always come to these caves to invoke the magic that protects Brythonica. We will go to each of them. It doesn’t take long to come here and utter the word of power. In fact, it is sufficient to even think the word. These stones can hear you. As I’ve shown you, beneath the moss are faces carved into the rock—”