The Forsaken Throne (Kingfountain #6)(73)

Our Lady


The Leerings in the sea caves had been destroyed. All of them. The faces carved into the stone beneath the dripping moss had been shattered. The surf hammering against the rocks outside the caves announced the return of the tide. If Trynne did not leave soon, she would be drowned. She was sick inside, haunted by the realization of what Morwenna had done.

The defenses of Brythonica were shattered. Nothing protected the border of the duchy from the sea. The promise she had made to her mother had been broken. She trembled, quavering at the thought of what was going to happen.

Kneeling in the sand, she touched her face, feeling the spray from the ocean intruding. The water lapped closer and closer to where she knelt in the darkness. She wanted to sob, to surrender to her misery, but there was still fight left in her. In her mind, she could see the beautiful face of Morwenna Argentine taunting her. This was the poisoner’s revenge against Owen, against Trynne’s entire family.

This was what would have become of Ankarette had she allowed the need for revenge to break her loyalty to the queen whose family she secretly served.

Morwenna was wreaking havoc on the politics of Kingfountain and Chandigarl. It was not just Trynne’s kingdom that was threatened with destruction. Her husband’s realm was in trouble as well. She had seen the bottomless depth of hatred and revenge in Rucrius’s eyes during his imprisonment in her dungeon. She had seen that same look from Dieyre and Hillel. There was no slaking such a thirst. It brought nothing but curses. The only thing that could ultimately quench its fire was utter destruction.

Trynne would not allow it to happen, not while she still drew breath. When she set aside her own feelings, she could almost pity Morwenna. She was an angry woman who had let herself be twisted to darkness. But despite that pity, Trynne could not allow her to succeed. There was a way to destroy someone who was Fountain-blessed. But before that could happen, Morwenna needed to exhaust her power.

Rising from the sand, Trynne made her way back to the sharp light of the outdoors. The next wave drenched her boots as she ducked beneath the overhang. She found her father where she had left him, crouched on the beach of sea glass. He was studying the small pebbles of polished glass, gazing at the intricate shapes and variety of color. When she emerged, he straightened, hefting some of the pebbles in his hand.

“Where did these come from?” he asked her with curiosity. This beach had always been a favorite place for him and her mother. Now all that history had been stripped away. It saddened her, but if she succeeded in stopping Morwenna, there would be time to recover his memories. She was drawn back to Kingfountain. The sense of urgency was overwhelming.

“Mother told me that they are the remains of an ancient kingdom that was buried by the Deep Fathoms,” she replied. “The glass from thousands of shattered windows has been rubbed along the coast of Brythonica for centuries. Down there,” she said, gesturing toward the water that was hissing and rolling back to the sea, “are the remains of ancient castles and homes. The land between Brythonica and Westmarch—your duchy—was called Leoneyis and is no more. All that land’s people were drowned. Only

a few survived to bear witness to the destruction. Those who had gathered to safety at the sanctuary of Our Lady at St. Penryn.”

As she said the words, her mind was pierced with a spike of anguish—a horrifying premonition of what was to come. Morwenna had destroyed the borders, so there would be no protection from the flood she planned to invoke. When it happened, all the rest of the duchies would gibber in terror, afraid that they would be next. She saw the darkness that was about to overrun the land. She could not stop the floods from taking Brythonica. So she had to stop Morwenna before she could unleash them.

“We must go, Father,” she said, shaking her head to try to dispel the terrible vision.

“To Kingfountain?” he asked her solemnly.

“Yes, to the sanctuary of Our Lady. Duke Ramey said the Assizes would render judgment today. This is the day Morwenna plans to destroy us. We have to stop her.”

He nodded to her. “I am ready.”

Trynne swallowed and looked at him fiercely. “Her magic cannot hurt you, Papa. It cannot affect those who are standing close to you either. We must get to the king quickly. We saw the Wizr board. They are at Kingfountain now. I can only pray we are not too late.”

The ley lines from Ploemeur went in all directions. It was one of the major hubs on the map that her mother guarded. But she knew if she appeared anywhere in the castle, the Espion would be waiting for them. So Trynne chose the sanctuary of Our Lady. Thousands would gather to see a royal execution. Thousands would watch as a boat with its victim nestled within the hull was launched from the royal pier and handed over to the water for justice. With any luck, they would appear as a couple of unknowns in the crowd. She did not use magic to conceal them for fear of alerting Morwenna too soon.

Trynne and her father appeared in one of the fountains on the grounds of the sanctuary, the breath misting from their mouths. Just as she’d suspected, there were thick crowds. Most were bundled in cloaks and hoods, for the weather had turned severely cold. The entire sanctuary island was filled to the brim, but they were all facing the huge castle on the hill across the river. People were speaking in urgent tones, gossiping about the results from the Assizes.

Trynne and Owen joined the crowd and she led him through the throng, heading toward the area behind the sanctuary where she knew some docks had been constructed. It was not a commonly known place.