The Forsaken Throne (Kingfountain #6)(27)

“What about Gahalatine?” Trynne asked, looking at his face.

Fallon nodded. “There is something about the oak tree in the grove that causes memories to be lost. Both your father and Gahalatine were brought there. I don’t understand that part, but we may need to chop it down in order to restore their memories.” He paused. “Sunilik has already left for Chandigarl.”

The news was not unexpected, but it gave her another pang of unease.

“When he arrives,” Fallon continued, “there will likely be war between our realms again. Not now, but in the future. Only Gahalatine can stop the war. If we go and rescue your father, we can return and heal them both. The Tay al-Ard is much faster than a ship.

We could arrive in Chandigarl before Sunilik does.”

“My mind is still reeling, Fallon,” Trynne said, shaking her head.

“But what you said makes sense. I feel like I’ve been walking blindfolded in a room and have kept stumbling over chairs.”

“We all have,” Fallon replied with a sardonic chuckle. “All except Morwenna. She was not always evil, Trynne. Her plan was not to destroy us, but to put her father back on the throne. She was ambitious for it. And her magic provided her a way to accomplish it.

But Severn’s death changed her. She was not accustomed to defeat, to setbacks, to being thwarted. She embraced the hetaera magic to get more power—and it ruined her.” He stared at Trynne fiercely.

“She must be stopped.”

Trynne let out a sigh. “How are we going to find my father once we pass over to this other world? Fallon, the Tay al-Ard only works if you’ve been somewhere before.”

“I know,” he said. “It can help us get back to the portal after we’ve found him. But it won’t help us find him. This will.”

He was wearing a pack beneath his cloak and slung it off one of his shoulders. It was full and heavy, ready for a long journey. She saw a dagger strapped to it, along with a bedroll. He undid the ties and pulled out the bedroll. Then, fishing through the contents, he withdrew a metal chest with a rounded lid and a handle.

It was the Wizr set.

Trynne’s eyes widened. “But Rucrius destroyed it!”

Fallon gave her a smirk. “So we all thought,” he said. “But one thing I’ve learned about Morwenna is that she has a gift for forgery.

She was in league with Rucrius all along, Trynne. She made an identical set. When the Wizr arrived and used his staff to crack the set, it was nothing but a show. She had already switched her copy for Drew’s. She’s been using the board all along. She can’t move the pieces, but she can see where all of them are. When we travel to the other world, the game will shift to represent the politics over there.

The board is based on geography. Your father is the white knight.

The set will lead us to him.”

“Open it,” Trynne said emphatically.

Fallon removed a key from around his neck and unlocked the case. Then he opened the lid, and there . . . She’d not seen the board in several years. The pieces were arranged in an almost haphazard fashion. She knew that the rows and columns represented the various kingdoms. Blinking quickly, she rose from her seat and knelt by Fallon, looking at the board. Staeli came as well, his brows knitting together in confusion.

Trynne saw two white knights next to each other on adjacent squares on the western side of the board. Her throat caught when she looked up at Fallon’s face and saw him gazing at her in compassion and determination. The two pieces were guarding a white king. Across the board, they saw the black Wizr piece.

Morwenna.

“There is Genny, at Marshaw,” Fallon said, pointing to the white queen up in the northmost corner of the board.

Trynne’s eyes scanned the board. Where was Drew? She was looking for another white king. But there wasn’t one.

Instead, she saw the black king near Morwenna’s piece.

Her countenance fell and a cold feeling filled her stomach. Drew . . .

Should she go with Fallon? Should she visit a world on the verge of destroying itself? Or was her duty to stay, to try to block Morwenna’s progress another way? She wasn’t sure she could trust her own judgment, for she was filled with conflict. In the heart of her anguish, she heard the quiet murmur of the Fountain.

Save the king from himself. Go, or all is lost.

Fallon looked at her as he slowly closed the lid and twisted the key. “We don’t have much time, Trynne. Will you come with me?”

She gazed into his eyes imploringly. “Can you save Genny’s baby?”





CHAPTER ELEVEN


Into the Grove


Night had fallen over Ploemeur, and the sky glittered with stars and a waxing moon shone through the gauzy curtains of the nursery.

Trynne, Fallon, Gahalatine, and Captain Staeli had gathered into the palace nursery, where Mariette was helplessly trying to ease the discomfort of the suffering infant.

“Light a candle,” Fallon whispered.

Mariette balked at the suggestion. “It pains her eyes.” She held Kate even closer, rocking her slightly.

“I know, but I must see her clearly,” Fallon said.

Staeli went and lit a taper and brought the candle near. Fallon gazed down at the child, his face scrunching into a look of sorrow and controlled fury. He examined the babe’s face, tilting up her chin and looking at her neck. The princess’s skin had a greenish cast and she began to wail as soon as the light was brought near. Tears trickled down Mariette’s cheeks as she watched.