The Forsaken Throne (Kingfountain #6)(49)

Trynne reached the scene moments later, summoning her magic to defend herself. The assailant turned and threw a dagger at her. It whistled past her ear as she dodged, and a moment later she was upon him, her sword arcing toward his side. The attacker stepped in so that her forearm struck him instead. He trapped her arm and his free hand shot up to her throat to crush it.

Trynne reacted instantly, kneeing him in the groin while she brought her other arm up to defend her neck. Shouts from the other guards filled the corridor, although most were sprawled helplessly.

She released her sword and tried to knee him again, but he pivoted his body and swung her around. They were both about to fall, him on top of her. That would be the end. Reflexively, she seized his belt, tugging on it just so, and she ended up on top of him instead of the other way around. Trynne jabbed his throat with the heel of her palm and he started choking. One of the soldiers managed to stab him in the chest with his longsword.

Trynne hit his face next, crushing his nose, and then jumped away from him as he twitched and convulsed on the floor. She was breathing fast and hard, terrified, yet in control. Another soldier stabbed him again, delivering the deathblow.

Soon Fallon appeared around the corner, his eyes wide with worry. When he saw her standing, he sighed with relief. The other sentries had backed away from the dead attacker, gazing at him in surprise.

“He . . . he was a kishion,” the man said, gibbering in fear.

When Fallon and Trynne returned to the corridor leading to the queen’s room, they found the queen herself standing next to Deven, her lips curled with anger.

“Two of them?” the queen said in outrage.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Deven said, still in shock from the sudden attack. “They came to kill you. I have no doubt of it. These new guards saved your life.”

The queen turned her gaze on Fallon and Trynne. Then her eyes locked on Trynne’s. “I felt something in the corridor. Sensed it.

It was you, wasn’t it? Come closer. Who are you?”





CHAPTER NINETEEN


Hil el Lavender


The queen’s eyes narrowed. “Drag the carcass away, you two. You, remain here.” Her gaze was fixed on Trynne.

Deven promptly obeyed and hefted the dead man beneath the arms. Fallon shot Trynne a concerned look, his jaw clenching, but after a brief pause, he grabbed the dead man’s ankles and hoisted him up. The Tay al-Ard pressed against Trynne’s back—a tantalizing reminder that she could escape. But she wouldn’t leave without Fallon.

“Your Majesty?” Trynne asked in a submissive voice.

The queen stepped closer, studying her face. “What is your name?”

“My name is Fidelis.”

“The Pry-rian word for ‘faithful,’” the queen answered, raising her eyebrows. “Curious. Are you Pry-rian, then? That is my heritage.

My father was a mighty prince who was slain by the King of Comoros. As a baby, I was sent to Sempringfall Abbey to be raised a wretched. A nameless one. Unwanted.” Her voice betrayed deeper emotion. She paced slowly in front of Trynne, eyeing her guardedly.

“Even my name was stolen from me. I worked in the laundry as a lavender. I was called Hillel, but that was not my true name. Let me see your hand.”

Trynne frowned, feeling more and more uncomfortable. “My lady?”

“Your hand. Now.”

Trynne hesitated, but though she was fearful the queen would see what Martin had seen in her, she had no recourse other than to open her hand.

The queen gripped Trynne’s wrist and examined her palm, looking for something. The urge to pull away, and the knowledge that she could not, was maddening. The queen stroked her finger along Trynne’s palm.

“You have calluses like a knight,” the queen said. “But you are no maston. I thought you were.” She released her grip and Trynne pulled her arm back, feeling vulnerable and worried.

“I am not,” Trynne said, shaking her head.

“A pity, then. All the mastons have fled. They fear me, and rightly so. But where are they? Where did they flee to? It is a great mystery.”

The noise of bootsteps hurrying down the hall announced the arrival of another person. Trynne risked a glance back and saw Martin approaching, his eyes livid, his face twisted into a frown.

“You were attacked?” he said, his voice throbbing with concern.

“I was not,” she said disdainfully. “My new knights were there to protect me. You chose them well. They defeated both kishion.”

“Two?” Martin shouted in outrage.

“Yes, there were two. This one detected them.” She gave Trynne a pleased nod.

Martin gave Trynne a grateful look. “Well done, lad. One of them was carrying this,” he said, holding up a folded note. The seal was broken off. He handed it to the queen. “I cannot read this, my lady. You must.”

The queen frowned and snatched the note from his hand. Her eyebrows furrowed as she perused the contents. Martin gazed at her, a look of relief evident and naked on his face. It was not feigned; he looked as if he had truly been frightened for her safety. She

realized that Fallon’s instincts were right—something bound these two together.

The queen’s nostrils flared. “They were sent by the Aldermaston of Dochte Abbey,” she hissed, crumpling the letter in her fist. Her hand shook with rage. “The Aldermaston sought to kill me?” She started to pace, her expression that of someone who had been betrayed by a friend. “Condemned by his own hand. So he has betrayed me as well. So be it.”