The Hollow Crown (Kingfountain #4)(61)

Trynne hugged her mother fiercely, burying her mouth against her neck. The vision of her father’s death hung like storm clouds over them. Mother and daughter tried to comfort each other. The grief of the moment was too powerful for words.





CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE


Lady of Averanche




The castle of Averanche commanded a stunning view of the sea. It was built atop a hill along the coast, the town nestled inside a sturdy wall that had withstood sieges for generations. The battlements were usually windy, but Trynne loved to scale the stairs leading to them and walk alone, staring out over her domain, wondering at all that had befallen her in recent weeks.

The Lady of Averanche.

Her days were no longer solely devoted to books and the study of swordplay. She had been given a household staff to help her manage her responsibilities and rarely had a moment of peace. But she loved every moment. Trynne was decisive by nature and had good instincts. She often saw smiles and nods of approval from the mayor, who brought many of the city’s disputes before her. She dispensed justice but tempered it with mercy. Her banner bore a castle with a fish over it between two moons. In the game of Wizr, her piece would have been a tower. It was a defensive piece, which felt right. Averanche had always been a border town and had changed sides between Occitania and Ceredigion many times over the centuries. It had been one of her father’s castles since he was about her age.

She leaned forward against the battlement wall, the wind whipping her hair in front of her face. In the distance she could see the island sanctuary of Our Lady of Toussan. Ploemeur was tucked into a cove beyond it. The air carried the tangy smell of the sea and she let herself smile because no one was watching her.

Part of her still wished that she hadn’t let her mother down. Sinia took her responsibility to protect the people of Brythonica very seriously. She needed an heir to maintain the defenses, and Trynne had always been the logical choice because she had shown signs of being Fountain-blessed at a young age. Gannon, on the other hand, had not. But he was still young; there was still a chance.

No, Trynne knew she would feel guilty for years to come, but it felt right deep down to her bones. She was answerable to the queen and took her commands from her instead of her own mother. The queen who was with child at such a calamitous time. Queen Genevieve had sent Trynne several missives—sealed, of course—telling her to prepare for some new arrivals. The queen was handpicking young women from throughout the realm to become Oath Maidens. They would be summoned to the court, sworn to silence, and then sent to Averanche to be trained by Captain Staeli and Trynne herself. Trynne bubbled with excitement, anxious to see who would be chosen.

Standing there on the battlements, squinting at the distance, she tried to make out the sanctuary of St. Penryn’s. She loved her freedom. She had used the ley lines to travel a little bit more, visiting places—mostly sanctuaries—that she hadn’t seen in a long time. The deconeuses and sextons all knew her on sight, and none asked who had given her permission to visit. She was a lady of the realm; it was her right.

The sound of shuffling steps came from the stairs alongside the battlement walls. Farnes reached the top wheezing; his hair, mostly gray now, ruffled in the breeze.

“My lady . . .” he gasped, stiff jointed and walking gingerly, “you have a visitor.”

That was no longer uncommon. She leaned back against the stone wall. “Who is it?”

She saw him before Farnes could respond. Fallon had followed the aging herald up the stairs, obviously sneaking.

Farnes, who plainly hadn’t seen him, began to speak, “It’s—”

“Cousin!” Fallon boomed, scaring the old man nearly out of his boots.

Trynne gave him a half smile.

“Thank you, kind father, for showing me the way up here,” Fallon said, clapping Farnes on the back. “If you’d just pointed, I would have saved you the arduous journey up the stairs. Hello, Cousin,” he said, bowing gracefully in front of Trynne. “I’ve come as promised.”

Farnes was clutching his heart, his eyes still wide from the surprise. He looked at Trynne for her orders. Now that she was the Lady of Averanche, she was no longer expected to have a constant chaperone. She could be alone with Fallon if she chose.

“Thank you, Farnes. I’ll be down shortly.”

“As you will, my lady,” he said, giving Fallon a wary look. He started shuffling back toward the stairs.

“You nearly killed my herald,” Trynne scolded.

“I couldn’t help it,” Fallon replied with a grin. He walked to the edge of the battlements and leaned down, resting his elbows on the wall. He faced the sea. She faced away from it.

“I thought we were going to meet in Ploemeur?” she said, raising her eyebrows.

“That was before you became so important,” he said with a dark look. Was it jealousy?

“I’m glad you found me nonetheless. You came from Dundrennan?”

He shook his head. “No, Edonburick. I had reason to go there first.” He glanced at her surreptitiously and then looked away.

“What is it, Fallon?” she pressed.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he said, gazing down the cliff at the water dashing the rocks below. The harbor was small and easily blockaded. His normal jovial nature was wilting before her eyes. He looked fidgety. Uncomfortable.