The Forsaken Throne (Kingfountain #6)(57)

Trynne licked her lips, bracing her arms on her knees as she nestled against the stone. “My feelings about Gahalatine are complex at the moment. I don’t plan on talking to you about them for long. Not with all that’s passed between us, Fallon.” She rested her cheek on her arm. “I told you that my mother had a vision about my marriage. She knew I would not marry you. In that moment in his pavilion—when I realized he was willing to offer me anything to win my consent—I saw that I could save my people. That I could save Genny and Kate and Drew and everyone else that I love. That I could save you. I don’t condone Gahalatine’s ambition, but I understand how he came to be that way. I was not very kind to him that night.” She laughed a little at her own choice of words. “I rebuked him.”

Fallon chuckled softly. “I know what that feels like.”

“But he took it graciously,” she added with a smile.

“As I did not,” he countered.

“True, he is at once prouder and humbler than you, Fallon. But he’s not evil. He has done good. He has struggled against the Wizrs of his empire. I respect him. Admire him, even. If I didn’t, I don’t think I could have brought myself to marry him.”

There was silence after that. She heard him breathing softly and wished she could see his face. She waited for a reply, wondering if one would come.

“That’s what I thought, Trynne,” he said with a sigh. “I didn’t think he was a monster then. And his treatment of you when he returned from Chandigarl? He was clearly deluded by others. I’m not angry with him anymore. I may even forgive him someday.” Then he snorted. “Someday. Let’s rest until daybreak. I’m feeling very tired.

Would you mind taking the first watch?”

She nodded and yawned. “We are so close. Maybe we’ll even find my father tomorrow.” As much as she wished to carry on, it would be dangerous to travel after the moon set, and she was as exhausted as Fallon seemed to be. The boulder against her back felt as inviting as a pillow.

“Thank you,” he said gratefully, and began to position himself for better comfort. She sat in the stillness, listening to the quiet buzz of night insects. The wind rustling through the green. Her eyelids started to droop with fatigue, but she strained to stay awake. When

her eyes fluttered shut, she promised herself it would just be for a moment . . .

It felt as if her eyes had only been closed for a fraction of a moment when Fallon started yelling. She came awake with a start, her heart suddenly in her throat, her hand groping for a sword.

Fallon was standing, brushing himself off by the Leering. It was almost dawn, and the woods were gray but still bright enough for her to see the panicked look on his face. Huge spiders skittered away from him as he brushed them off.

She sat up abruptly, only then realizing the spiders were all over her too. They were in her lap, crawling up her tunic front, on her arms and legs.

The groan of fear and disgust that came from her throat was not ladylike at all as she jumped to her feet and started stomping and dancing, anything to get them off. Fallon soon rushed over to her, swatting them away from her clothes. There was nothing romantic at all in the way he fondled her. She saw little red bites on his chin and cheek and it made her nearly scream to think of spiders crawling over their faces while they slept.

In a few minutes, the huge spiders had all dispersed and the two of them leaned over, hands on their knees, breathing hard and trying not to laugh at each other.

“I want to go home,” Trynne moaned, shaking her head and shuddering with terrors.

Fallon nodded, still overwrought by the episode. “I’ve not seen that before,” he said, laughing nervously. “Your face, Trynne.”

“What?”

“Did they bite me too?” He touched one of the spots on his chin.

“It hurts! Summon the water again. Please.”

She thought that was a great idea. With a thought, the Leering flared to life again, the water gushing from its mouth. Fallon stood aside for her to go first, so she knelt by the Leering, pressing her hand against the stone to steady herself, and cupped her other hand to gather water.

Before she drank her first mouthful, something strange happened. A window opened in her mind, as forcefully as if shutters had slammed open. She saw, in her mind, a man kneeling by another water Leering. Intuitively, she knew she was seeing something happening somewhere else, at that very time. The man was also touching the boulder, and he became aware of her the same instant she was aware of him.

They both looked up.

And she saw her father’s face for the first time since he’d disappeared.





The king’s army has reached Averanche. Westmarch offered no resistance. They were too confused by the conflicting tidings to do anything other than join forces with their king. Averanche is a formidable castle, and it will not be easily taken. They can be supported by sea.

But Averanche is not the goal. I’ve persuaded the king to pretend to siege this fortress and draw Captain Staeli’s army toward us. But I have an errand to attend to first in the grove in Brythonica. They cannot be allowed to return.

Morwenna Argentine





CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO


The Fountain


Trynne would have recognized her father’s face anywhere, but the many months he had been away from home had changed him. The distinctive patch of white in his hair had been joined by some gray at his temples. He was weather-beaten and sunburned and had a new scar across his brow. Seeing him brought a visceral rush of emotions —longing and sadness and exquisite joy.