The Silent Shield (Kingfountain #5)

His eyebrows wrinkled. “Thank you for offering, but there’s no need. I will ride to Kingfountain straightaway.”

“But I can bring you and return instantly.”

“You are needed here, Trynne. I can be there in three days. If Gahalatine attacks Ploemeur, I will come to your aid. North Cumbria is ready to defend our shores.”

“I know you will,” Trynne said. She reached out and took his hand, squeezing it. It was a little strange that he’d refused her twice, but she didn’t wish to question him. There’d been too many misunderstandings between them.

He stared down at their hands, his mouth twitching as he wrestled with his feelings. “I must go.”

If Thierry hadn’t been standing there, she would have hugged Fallon good-bye. Her heart was still at war with her destiny, now more than ever. Fallon squeezed her hand and then rushed from the room. The moment he left, the emptiness of the room was palpable to her. She decided to leave the Wizr board untouched.



It wasn’t even dusk, yet Trynne was wearied by the day’s labors. The sudden news about Gahalatine’s fleet heading toward their shores had given her a new purpose, a distraction from the anguish of her brother’s and grandparents’ deaths. Knowing the massive fleet could easily blockade Ploemeur, she had ordered the Brythonican navy to set up a defensive ring around the coast and to keep watch for approaching vessels. There was enough food to withstand a siege, and the castle was full of defenders armed with bows in preparation for an enemy that could fly up to its walls. She was considering sending for Captain Staeli when Thierry arrived with news that he had come of his own accord.

“Please, bring him to me!” she said. She had been studying maps in her mother’s library, but she cleared some space on the table.

Captain Staeli arrived, looking like the soldier he was at heart, his cloak and tunic begrimed from the journey, his boots scuffed and weather-beaten. He stood in the doorway a moment, wringing the leather hood in his hands. His beard was mussed, his balding head spotted with sweat. He looked grief-stricken, and she realized that he had come after hearing the news of Gannon’s death. He was not a talkative man by nature, but he cared for her like a daughter. His lip twitched as the silence deepened between them.

“I am so glad you came,” Trynne said, coming around the table.

He stuffed the hood into his belt. His eyes were fierce. “I only heard the news yesterday,” he said, then sniffed. “Mariette is in charge while I’m gone. She’s a clever one, that lass.” He gave her a small smile. “Rani Reya’s not far behind her. She’s forged these strange hooklike swords. Very unnatural way to make a blade.”

Trynne laughed. “Yes, compared to our ways,” she agreed. She reached out and gripped his hands. “Thank you for coming. We’re about to be invaded, I think. Death has struck my family. I could use a friend at the moment.”

Staeli’s cheeks reddened at her words. “I’ve watched over you since you were a wee lass,” he said. “If Dragan has done this ill deed, as I suspect he has, then I will bring him to justice.” He sniffed. “I swear it by the Fountain.” The smoldering rage in his eyes was frightening—or it would have been had it been directed at her.

“I must bear the loss as best I can,” Trynne said. “But I would caution you against seeking revenge. I need you to help me fight a war, my friend.” She went to the table and pulled him with her. Unfurling one of the maps, she pointed along the coast. “I’ve ordered the fleet to patrol these waters. I’ve set up riders to relay messages back to the king along the main roads here, and also here to alert Occitania. Westmarch is close and can be ready quickly to come to our aid. So can the army of Pree. Fallon said that Dundrennan will come, but that’s much farther away.” Her finger glided to that spot on the map, her heart tightening at the thought.

“Duke Fallon means well,” Staeli said with a nod. “I encountered him and his hunter on the way here.”

Trynne looked up from the map, her nose wrinkling. “He was alone.”

Staeli sniffed, shaking his head. “No, he was with a hunter from Dundrennan. I recognized the lad, although he’s older now. I fought with your father and Captain Ashby at the battle that deposed Severn Argentine. The lad is in his thirties now, a man grown. Carrick. He’s Fountain-blessed. The lad is famous for his tracking.”

A feeling of dread opened inside Trynne’s chest. Both she and the captain knew what mission had brought Carrick to Brythonica in the past. He had been sent to search the grove where her father had disappeared—to no avail.

“Where did you see them?” she asked, her voice suddenly hoarse.

“They were leaving the road that cuts through the woods with the grove,” Staeli said, folding his arms. “I take it they didn’t have your permission to be there.”

Unfolding his arms, he stretched out his hand and tapped his finger on the forest that held the magic bowl and the stone altar. It was labeled as a royal hunting wood on the map. There was no other marking to give it significance, but of course the captain didn’t need to be told. Her father had assigned him to be protector of Brythonica—and the grove—should anything happen to him. While she didn’t like to think of it, the captain wore the ring that went with the station.

The one that had been found on her father’s severed hand.





I must get away from this prison. The man with the silver mask’s body is crumpled on the floor. I did not intend to overpower him, but the thought came to me so forcefully, especially when he used an artifact of magic on me. I felt its power emanating from him like a storm. He was frantic, muttering something about the need to move me in the next few days. The dungeon where I’m being kept is about to be overrun. I must be moved and moved quickly. He tried to use his power to make me submissive and afraid. But it could not affect me. It was strange, because I felt its force and understood his intent, but it did not compel me to do his bidding. The jailor had left us alone together.

When he saw his power did not move me, the man in the mask grew frightened of me. How did I know? The mask hid his expression. It’s just that I knew his weakness, knew that he was intimidated by me. So I struck him with the chains. He crumpled to the floor. If I could remove these chains, I could take his silver mask and cloak and make him wear my meager clothing and mask. The jailor wouldn’t know that he was being deceived. It might give me a chance to escape, to find help from whoever is coming. The jailor has the keys. How can I remove them?

There was a whisper. A single word. The chains have opened. But there is no one else here with me.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN


The Breaking