The Silent Shield (Kingfountain #5)

“You could have told me.”

“I think jumping into the cesspit with you may have distracted me,” Trynne countered. She wrung her hands, beginning to pace. Was Fallon loyal? He had arrested Morwenna, but was he just as compromised as she was? She knew what she wanted to believe, but she couldn’t let her feelings for him blind her.

“While secrets are being laid bare,” she went on, “I have also sensed another Fountain-blessed here in the castle.”

“Duke Severn?” the king prompted.

“No, I already knew about him, and his power is mostly spent for the time being. There is someone else. I feel it nagging at me. I’m conflicted, my lord. Can we trust Fallon? One of the maidens, who is from Dundrennan, told me ere we arrived that the garrison had been marched away to defend Kingfountain. An Espion told us the same. Fallon has flatly denied it.” She turned her head, trying to conceal her confusion. “I did go to Morwenna’s tower before we left. I found . . . I found some of Fallon’s clothes—with his badge—among her belongings.”

“That does not bode well,” the king said with a weary sigh. “You suppose they are lovers?”

“I don’t know what to suppose,” Trynne said. “Fallon is very . . . complicated.”

Drew snorted, and when she looked at him, he was nodding in agreement. “I’ve never fully understood Genny’s brother. In the last year he has changed for the better. I named him my champion and defender, but only because the Painted Knight didn’t come to the Gauntlet. I had hoped . . . almost expected that he would.” He rubbed his temples.

“Well,” he said with a sigh, “the truth will out, as they say. Owen thought keeping Morwenna close would be the wise course of action. She’s still very young.” He gave Trynne a pointed look, acknowledging that the two were of an age. “I hope she hasn’t betrayed me. I forgave her father. Could I forgive her? Could I chain my own sister to a rock on the mountain yonder and watch her freeze to death?” His voice broke and he shook his head.

Trynne felt sorry for him. The decision, ultimately, was his to make.

“My lord, perhaps Morwenna is driven by ambition and not revenge. I heard in Chandigarl that the Wizrs are forcing Gahalatine to marry. If he does not choose his own bride, they will choose one for him. Perhaps Rucrius’s plan is to put Morwenna on the throne. She looks like a queen. She’s the daughter of one.”

Drew pursed his lips and gave Trynne a tender, sympathetic look. His face was calm and peaceful. “But Gahalatine is wiser for having chosen you, Trynne. My grandfather always valued Ankarette’s advice above all others. Now I can see why. Discernment is as important as she always said it was. I trust your instincts, Trynne. I believe in you. Now,” he added, shifting to a more playful tone. “I would normally ask this of my poisoner, but she’s indisposed. You said you felt the presence of another Fountain-blessed in the castle. It’s probably Carrick, the hunter. But just in case, I’d like you to take some of the maidens and go find this person. Let’s be sure they are on our side.”

Trynne bowed in obeisance and left the king’s chamber after the servant they had sent in search of Captain Staeli returned with him and six maidens. There had been no chance to eat amidst the commotion of the day, so she nibbled a bread roll as she led two of the girls through the halls. The castle was still in commotion from their arrival. The common hall was filled with rows of trestle tables, and the maidens sat eating the provisions that had been set out for them. There was a feeling of good spirits now that they’d reached the protection of the mountains, but there was also worry in the air. Everyone knew Gahalatine was on his way. Some of the serving girls were talking to the Oath Maidens, admiring their armor and weapons, and intrigued to hear the tales of their training.

Trynne could feel the call of the magic reaching out to her still, those musical notes playing over and over. She left the great hall and found a passageway leading to a set of spiral stairs in one of the tower turrets. Grabbing a torch from the wall sconce for light, she led the way down to the lower level. The noise and commotion from the common hall receded. Below she found the armory, where soldiers were grinding axes and swords while blacksmiths fixed and repaired armor. The smell of men’s unwashed bodies was everywhere and some were smoking pipes and speaking in the Northern accent.

The soldiers they passed were unused to seeing women in their domain, and Trynne and the maidens were given a few leers as they passed. She ignored the rudeness and followed the strain of magic down another corridor. At the end, she found a heavy iron door with torches bracketed on either side of it. There were two guards posted there, arms folded.

“Back up top, lasses,” one of them said dismissively as Trynne approached.

“What’s through the doors?” she asked, ignoring the command.

“This be the wine cellar,” he replied stiffly. Even without her power, she would know it for a lie. “Not a place for visitors.”

Trynne gazed at both men. “My name is Trynne Kiskaddon,” she said. “Lord Owen was my father. He grew up in this castle.”

The two guards exchanged surprised looks. “I beg your pardon, your ladyship. Our master has given instructions that you are permitted to go anywhere you choose. I meant no disrespect.” He turned and yanked the door open. It took both men to do the job because of its weight.

As Trynne passed, she caught one of them giving the other a knowing look. She stopped and held out her hand to the maidens. “You both wait here. I should return promptly.”

“Yes, my lady,” they said, nodding. She could tell that they understood her meaning, that they were to wait behind to prevent the guards from locking her in.

Holding the torch, she continued down the steps, feeling the swell of the magic growing stronger. The stairs were short and ended in front of another door watched by another set of guards. They wore Fallon’s badge, the Pierced Lion. They asked no questions as she approached, only turned and pulled at the heavy doors for her. She nodded to them both, feeling her unease growing with each step.

The presence of magic was growing stronger. She could sense it filling the corridor. She reached out with her magic and sensed a single person waiting for her ahead. Her heart pounded in her throat. Was it Gahalatine? He was making no effort to hide his power at all. In fact, quite the opposite. His power was luring her there.