The Silent Shield (Kingfountain #5)

Genevieve paled. “I hadn’t thought of that. It also seems that his people can travel outside of the ley lines. That cylinder you mentioned . . . what sort of device is it, I wonder? There’s so much we don’t know. I had assumed Gahalatine might be with his fleet.”

“Has it been spotted since it set sail earlier this summer?” Trynne asked.

Genevieve shook her head. “None of the Espion hidden in the ports along the coast have seen it. But Lord Amrein has learned that fleet doesn’t need a port. It can go for months without a harbor. What baffles me is how Gahalatine has accumulated so many vessels and conquered so much in so short a time! He’s barely older than me, and look at what he’s done! Ambition is certainly one of his gifts from the Fountain.”

Trynne nodded, rubbing her palms along the stone lip of the railing. “Do you think he will attack Kingfountain first?”

Genevieve touched her shoulder. “Would that I knew,” she answered with a sigh. “Your mother’s visions are our only hope for a warning. I’m worried about her,” she added, her voice dipping to a lower pitch. “Her grief is so consuming.”

Trynne wanted to refute her, but it was true, and there was no sense in hiding it. “She’s withdrawn deeper into herself. Morwenna has offered her some calming drafts to try and help her, but she refuses to be comforted by an elixir. When she’s not here or training Morwenna, she walks at her favorite beach in Ploemeur. She’ll be there for hours sometimes.” Trynne’s heart pinched with the pain of her own grief. Her father’s loss had struck a terrible blow to the entire Kiskaddon family.

“Drew would like to see her as soon as possible,” Genny said. “But please . . . don’t hurry her if she’s not well. We will abide without her for as long as we can.”

“Very well, my lady,” Trynne said, giving her another hug.

Genny kissed her cheek, then gripped her by the shoulders. “You haven’t asked after Fallon in a while.”

Fallon was Genny’s younger brother. She reminded Trynne of him a little in the way she smiled. Sometimes it was comforting; sometimes it was excruciating.

“No, I have not,” Trynne replied.

“He still cares for you,” Genny said.

“It would probably be for the best if he didn’t,” Trynne said. Her own heart had been dashed to pieces in their last confrontation.

The queen folded her arms and stared out at the garden. “You are my friend, and he is my brother. I hate seeing you both hurting so much. I understand your reasons for saying what you did. He deserved it. But he hasn’t come to terms with it yet. He’s fighting it. I’m . . . worried about him. Worried he may do something . . . I don’t know. He’s another one who’s difficult to predict.”

Before the Battle of Guilme, Fallon had told Trynne that he suspected Severn Argentine, the former king of Ceredigion and Morwenna’s father, was involved in a conspiracy to unseat the king. The men who were involved, he’d told her, dressed in black and wore silver masks. On the eve of the Battle of Guilme, Trynne had visited Fallon’s tent while disguised as the Painted Knight. She’d found the exact outfit he’d described—silver mask, black coat—discarded on the floor. Despite her feelings for Fallon, and her desire to believe the best of him, it had filled her with suspicion.

Trynne had taken Genny into her confidence, and when her friend had asked Fallon if he was part of a conspiracy, not divulging her source, he had admitted to her that he’d donned the outfit that night to try to draw out the conspirators. He’d even told her that the Painted Knight had humiliated him and taken the mask away. His words lined up with Trynne’s version of the events, which she was relieved to hear. But she didn’t know if he was still dabbling with his Espion contacts or traveling in secret with Morwenna.

She could only hope he was not.

“Are you asking me to reach out to him?” Trynne asked with a wince.

Genny shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t burden you with that. He should make the next move. I just hope that you wouldn’t spurn his efforts to reconcile, even if they’re clumsily made.”

“Well said, Genny,” Trynne replied with a small laugh.

Genevieve hugged her again. “We should learn more about this zenana. Are there true Oath Maidens there, the kind Myrddin taught you about? Or does it serve another purpose? I might send you there, Trynne. My heart says there is more for us to learn. Gahalatine must have a weakness. All this power, all this force. There has to be something we can use to turn the tide in our favor. We’re running out of time.”

Trynne nodded resolutely.

One of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting pulled aside the curtains and appeared on the balcony. “I beg your pardon, my lady, but a visitor has arrived. The Grand Duke of Brugia.”

Genevieve looked surprised. “He wishes to see me?”

The girl dimpled. “No, my lady. He came to see Lady Tryneowy.”





CHAPTER FOUR


Elwis




Upon leaving the balcony, Trynne found the young grand duke of Brugia talking pleasantly with Sureya. His demeanor had transformed over the last year. Her first impressions of him had not been favorable. He had been rude and conceited, and the outfit he’d chosen for the king and queen’s marriage was distinctly—and pointedly—Brugian in style: a fancy black tunic with white ruffs at the neck and cuffs. In the past, Elwis had always sported a sour frown while in Kingfountain, and he’d never acknowledged others as his equal. But his attitude had abruptly changed after his father was slain in the Battle of Guilme. He had come close to losing his precious kingdom, and it had not failed to make an impression on him that Drew’s men had died in the effort to save his city.

He was courteous, though still a bit aloof at times. But he tried harder to be agreeable, and he’d tried exceedingly hard to be agreeable to her.

When Trynne entered the room, a small smile appeared on his mouth, one that reached his eyes. Leaning against the wall near the window seat, arms folded, he concluded his conversation.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Rani Sureya. It has been a long while since I have seen fashions from the East. You speak our language exceedingly well. I bid you welcome to Kingfountain.” He bowed graciously, and Sureya dimpled and smiled back in return.

How he had changed.

He was tall, his hair so blond it was nearly white. His rugged face still bore the fading scars he’d earned in the battle.

“I’m grateful I caught you ere you departed for Averanche,” he said warmly, walking up and giving Trynne a formal bow. “I only just heard that you were at the palace.”

He made no attempt to hide his regard for her. She was flattered by his attentions, naturally, but uncertain about how to respond to them. Her broken heart still pined for Fallon, even though her head told her that it was not to be. She had tried to wrest details from her mother about the man she’d seen Trynne marry in her vision. But Sinia had always refused to say more. It did nothing to comfort Trynne that her mother’s look always had an edge of disappointment when they spoke about her future husband.