The Forsaken Throne (Kingfountain #6)(63)

“Do you know me?” he asked tremulously, his voice husky and soft.

“Know you?” she said with tears catching in her throat. “You are my father. And we have come a great distance to find you. To save you from this place.”

His hand still loosely grasped her elbow, and magic flowed more freely between them, binding them together. She felt it emanating from the Leering she leaned against. Somehow the magic was confirming her words, enabling her to speak the truth with convincing power.

“Who am I?” he whispered huskily, his expression rife with desperation and relief.

“Your name is Owen Kiskaddon,” Fallon said with deep respect.

“You were practically a father to me as well. This is your daughter, Tryneowy. But you always called her Trynne.”

“Trynne,” Owen said in bewilderment. As he said her name, a series of chills rushed down her spine and she trembled.

“Papa,” she said, letting the tears come, letting them wet her lashes and streak down her face. She wanted to hug him, but her wrists were still bound in irons.

One of the soldiers who had been guarding the tent door slipped outside and walked away quickly.

Owen glanced over his shoulder, watching the man go, and then quickly rose, his face darkening. He let go of her arm but then turned back and looked at her.

“Why can’t I remember?” he asked in desperation.

“Your memories were all stolen,” she replied. “What name did the king call you? Stiev?”

He nodded slowly.

“You were raised in a place called Dundrennan,” Fallon said.

“Under the tutelage of the duke of the North, Stiev Horwath. My great-grandfather. Just as I was raised under yours. You are not from this world. You were brought here by treachery, by the deepest treason. We came to fetch you home.”

Owen nodded as Fallon spoke, his look one of bewilderment but acceptance. He rubbed his wrist as he gazed down at them. “My only memories begin in a dark cell. I was kept drunk and masked. I used to have a ring on my hand. The callus is still there. Did I . . . did I have a wife?”

“Yes!” Trynne said, her chest throbbing. “You still do. Her name is Sinia. She’s not been the same since you vanished.”

“The ring you wore,” Fallon said urgently, “allows its wearer to pass between the two worlds. The ring was stolen from you, but I retrieved it. With it, we can get back home.”

“I must return to the king,” Owen said.

“No,” Trynne said, shaking her head. “I won’t let you out of my sight again.”

“If I don’t leave now, the king will suspect me,” he answered. He started walking toward the tent door and Trynne uttered the word of power to unlock the shackles. They fell away instantly, clattering to the ground. The remaining guard stationed at the door looked over at her in startled surprise. Suddenly Owen struck him on the temple with the hilt of his dagger and then caught him before he collapsed.

He dragged him away from the door and lowered him to the ground.

Trynne was about to summon the word of power to open Fallon’s cuffs when she saw him stand, the cuffs dangling from only one of his wrists. He grinned at her.

“An Espion trick,” he said wryly as he removed the other cuff.

Owen smiled. “Take his tunic,” he said, motioning to the comatose soldier, “we’ll move around easier. Now we just need to find one for you,” he finished, looking at Trynne. She invoked her magic ring and suddenly her tunic was transformed to the wine-red one. He jolted when he saw the transformation.

“This will work,” she said. Fallon gave her a smile and then hurried over to the soldier Owen had knocked out. Moving quickly, he removed the man’s belt and tugged off his tunic.

“We need to find Quivel,” Fallon said as he cinched his sword belt over the tunic.

“I know where he is,” Owen said. “He’s watching the tent.”

“I can sense him too,” Trynne said. He was nearby. His presence was so subtle that she hadn’t noticed it. She turned around and then pointed. “That way.”

“I’ve never trusted Quivel,” Owen said. “He’s the one who came for me in the cell in the dungeon. I knocked him out and changed places with him. He found me, and he’s been my shadow ever since I escaped. I’m not going back to that dungeon.”

“I’ll get the Tay al-Ard back,” Fallon said. “If either of you go, he’ll sense you coming. He won’t be able to sense me. Wait for me here. Once I have it, I’ll come back and slice a hole in the back of the tent.”

“Fallon,” Trynne said worriedly. She didn’t want him to go away either. “I’ll do it.”

He smiled confidently at her. “I’m actually better at this kind of work,” he said. “If you two stay here, it’ll keep his eyes fixed on the tent. I’ll be back soon.”

There was a wrenching feeling in her heart. She wanted to kiss his cheek and thank him, she wanted . . . but it wouldn’t be right. It wasn’t even right to entertain such thoughts. Instead, she steeled herself and nodded for him to go.

He slipped out of the tent, leaving her and her father alone together for the first time in a year and a half. She hugged him fiercely, even though he could not remember her, pressing her cheek into his chest. The tears welled up again when he patted her back and returned the hug. It was the hug of a compassionate stranger, but it was still a relief to have him again.