The Hollow Crown (Kingfountain #4)(31)

Myrddin clasped both hands atop the mushroom-shaped end of his staff. “Aye, Lord Owen. There was once a great general who was badly outnumbered by the enemies who invaded his homeland. The war lasted for several years. At one point, he threatened to arm his women and his children and bring the fight to the enemy’s homeland.” The Wizr smirked. “Aye, ’tis true. It goes against our sensibilities to force the horrors of war on our womenfolk. But there are times that it has been done. And as you said, there have been times when the greatest champion in the realm has been a woman.”

When Myrddin met Trynne’s eyes, she realized that he already knew her fate, just as she had speculated on that long-ago day. She knew she was right to be asking for this.

“I will not be too hasty in this,” King Drew said seriously. “We will discuss it further in council around the Ring Table.”





CHAPTER TEN


The Wizr’s Oath



Every time Trynne went to Kingfountain, it was harder and harder to leave. Sometimes she felt more at home in that palace than she did at Ploemeur. She had rarely been to Tatton Hall and had little sentimental attachment to it. Kingfountain was the center of intrigue and decisions, the hub of power and authority. It was the seat of the kings of the past, the place of legends brought to life. Kingfountain was the place where destiny was woven. She loved everything about it, from the intangible feel of the place to its beautiful trappings. At the moment, though, the king’s council was meeting behind closed doors, and she wanted desperately to know what they would decide. All she could do was pace with nervous energy, waiting and dreading the moment she’d have to return to Ploemeur.

The sun was slanting through the windows, showing the fast-ebbing daylight that made her heart wring with emotion. As she wandered the corridors alone, she passed the archway where she’d spied Morwenna and Elwis, and the memories of what had followed rushed upon her, ending with Fallon swinging her around in a dizzying circle.

That particular memory made her heart ache. She had known Fallon her entire life, and even though she loved to argue and debate with him, she secretly wished that he could someday overlook the fact that she would never be a beauty. Perhaps he needed someone like her to prick the bubble of his pride and prevent it from carrying him off.

Tapping footsteps came from around the corner ahead, and she was startled when her father’s herald, Benjamin, came into view.

“Ah, Lady Trynne,” he said with a smile. His father, Farnes, had served her father faithfully for years and Benjamin had inherited the role of messenger. He was in his late twenties and had a handsome and confident bearing. “Your father sent me to find you, but the queen asked to speak with you first. She’s in her personal chambers. Shall I escort you?”

“Of course,” Trynne answered, hastening her steps. “Has the council ended then?”

“It has,” he replied with a nod.

“What did they decide?”

“I have no idea,” he said with an apologetic smile. “I was not allowed in the deliberations.”

Eager to find out, Trynne kept up a furious pace as they wove through the corridors toward the queen’s chambers. The doorman saw them approach and knocked on the door.

“Lady Tryneowy Kiskaddon,” he announced in a formal tone.

Benjamin caught her sleeve before she entered the room. “Your father wishes to see you before you return to Ploemeur. Shall I wait for you?”

Trynne shook her head. “Is he in the solar?”

“Yes.”

“Then I will go there afterward. Thank you.” She nodded to him and then stepped into Genevieve’s rooms. The quarters had once belonged to the queen dowager and then to Princess Elyse, who was now the Queen Dowager of Occitania. Genevieve had adopted the customs and decorations of Ceredigion rather than favor her Atabyrion tastes for fancy headdresses and furs.

One look at Genny’s eyes told Trynne that the decision had not been favorable. Her heart sank with disappointment.

“There you are,” Genevieve said, rushing up to her and taking her hands. “Let’s neither of us pout, Trynne. We must school our feelings in the face of rejection.” The queen kept a hold on Trynne’s hands as they began to walk in a circuit around the beautiful chamber. Trynne admired the various gowns and the huge four-post bed draped with veils and gold-threaded blankets. The backboard was nearly invisible beneath all the frilled pillows. The queen’s ladies-in-waiting were arranging her gown for the evening meal and some were tidying up.

“The king said no?” Trynne asked despondently.

Genevieve’s brow wrinkled. “It wasn’t a no so much as it wasn’t a yes.”

Trynne’s shoulders fell.

“Don’t lose heart, Trynne. I haven’t. Some men need coaxing to change their minds. I reminded the council that my mother defeated an invading army at Blackpool at the age of seventeen. I also reminded them of how the Maid of Donremy was Fountain-blessed to be a battle commander. I’ve read many of her stories and have always found them interesting. But men are rather . . . sensitive in this area. Believe me, we went through all the arguments against it like a stage performer doffs and dons costumes. But the actor is still the same beneath them all. The menfolk are wary of us, Trynne. We are a great mystery to them. Drew didn’t render a verdict. He will summon the full council within six months to discuss the matter again when my parents can also be there to offer counsel, along with the other lords of the council.”