The Hollow Crown (Kingfountain #4)(53)
Trynne squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to cry. “Is this how you felt?” she whispered, gazing at her mother, seeing the shared pain in her eyes. “You fell in love with Father from your visions of the future. But he didn’t know who you were. Or that you were meant to be together. At least you knew, though.” A sickening feeling came into her stomach. She wondered that she hadn’t thought of it before. “Do you know . . . do you know who I’m going to marry?”
Sinia stared at her, her eyes filling with tears. She nodded, but it was not a pleased look. It was not a delighted look. It was full of sadness, which made Trynne feel even worse. What did it mean?
“Mother?” she gasped in a questioning tone.
Sinia shook her head and turned around. “I cannot tell you what I’ve seen.” When she looked back at her, her expression was full of resolve.
There was that scraping feeling again, that sensation of something ineffable happening. It rumbled through Trynne like an earthquake. Sinia’s eyes widened with surprise. She blinked a few times, the faraway look of a vision.
“We must go to Kingfountain,” Sinia said, taking Trynne’s hand firmly. “A Wizr will arrive from Chandigarl. I saw both of us in the throne room with your father and the king. We must leave at once; the city is in peril!”
For her mother to leave Brythonica unprotected was a sign the peril was real. When Sinia did leave to consult with the king, which happened more and more often lately, Trynne was always put in charge of the duchy. This time, mother and daughter traveled together, and it was Sinia’s power that brought them through the fountain waters. Trynne’s brother, Gannon, was still in Ploemeur, of course, so there was an heir.
Being back at Kingfountain filled Trynne with excitement, but she was also worried about what they would face. A Wizr from Chandigarl? Such a thing had never happened before.
They walked hurriedly to the throne room, where the guards admitted them without comment. The king and queen were at the Ring Table, conferring with Owen and some of the other lords of the realm.
“Lady Sinia?” King Drew asked with confusion, seeing her there.
Owen jerked his head up and started to walk around the huge table toward them.
“What is it?”
“He’s coming,” Sinia said breathlessly, an edge of panic in her voice.
The torchlight in the great hall flickered. A darkness seemed to descend, like a shadow blocking out the sun. Shivers shot down Trynne’s arms. The mood in the chamber shifted palpably.
A man suddenly appeared out of the aether.
What struck Trynne first was the power of his presence. She could feel the Fountain magic emanating off him in waves, both from his person and the magic artifacts he carried. He was nearly seven feet tall, but very slender and tapered. His long, white-blond hair fell past his chest, and his intricately designed tunic was held closed by a spider-shaped brooch embedded with a jewel that sizzled with energy. He gripped a staff that was as tall as his chin and ended in a sphere wreathed in roots. The man’s hand gripped just beneath the ball, drawing attention to a huge turquoise ring on his middle finger. The scarab-shaped bauble dominated his hand, almost like an insect attached to him. His eyes were blue and possessed a strange glow. His skin was quite pale, but he was muscled and fit and wore a curved sword at his hip, suspended by a leather belt with the raven symbol on it. The tunic fell well past his knees and was covered by a burgundy velvet jacket that collected on the floor around him like a cloak.
“My name is Rucrius,” the man said, his accent as impeccable as any native of Ceredigion.
King Drew rose from his chair at the Ring Table, planting his hands on the surface of the polished wood. “We are honored by your visit, Lord Rucrius,” he said, his voice firm despite the shock of the man’s unexpected appearance.
“We have no such titles in my realm,” Rucrius said dismissively. “All pay homage to the Overking. I come at the behest of Gahalatine, my master. Long have our people watched the squabble and bloodshed of these lands. You claw and fight over titles and land like children over sweets. You murder and poison and defame. But you, boy king, have managed to unite the realms, a feat that has not been done in centuries. Still, it will not last. You are ill-tempered children in need of a master.” His voice lowered into a threatening tone. “My master bade me to tell you that he is coming. He challenges you for the right to wear the hollow crown. We will prove our cause with our blades and with our wills. Willingly have the rulers of Chandigarl knelt to their new sovereign. And so will you kneel as well. Gahalatine will conquer these lands and place true men and women as his vassals to rule in his name. You have little time to prepare for him. Behold, he comes swiftly.”
The room was quiet save for the mutter from the torches.
Rucrius straightened even more, bringing up his chin slightly. “In these petulant lands, honor is broken on a whim. My master speaks only the truth. To prove my words, I give you two signs. The game you have played for centuries to teach your rulers humility and discipline has ended.” Rucrius lifted his staff and then thumped it on the tiles. There was a cracking noise, louder than thunder, and Trynne felt as if someone had stabbed her. The tile beneath the staff was broken, but something told her that wasn’t all . . . She had the notion that the ancient Wizr set hidden in the fountain waters had been broken in two.
“Second,” Rucrius said forcefully, “your predecessor defied the rites of sanctuary. They will no longer protect you from the Deep Fathoms. Anemoi!”
Jeff Wheeler's Books
- The Silent Shield (Kingfountain #5)
- The Forsaken Throne (Kingfountain #6)
- Knight's Ransom (The First Argentines #1)
- Broken Veil (Harbinger #5)
- The King's Traitor (Kingfountain #3)
- The Forsaken Throne (Kingfountain #6)
- The King's Traitor (Kingfountain #3)
- The Ciphers of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood #2)
- The Banished of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood, #1)
- The Void of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood Book 3)