The Hollow Crown (Kingfountain #4)(9)

“It’s a table,” Owen replied. They would need to start the procession back to the palace soon. “Unlike any you’ve ever seen.”

“Tell me!” she insisted.

“You’ll see it soon enough. Patience, Tryneowy.”

She liked it when he used her full name. It reminded her of another question she’d been bursting to ask—one that had only gone half answered earlier. “Why did King Drew choose Genevieve? If he’d married one of the ladies of Brugia, it would have stopped the war earlier.”

Her father’s mouth quirked with amusement. “You love discussing politics, Daughter. Probably too much.”

“I am your daughter, Father,” she replied sweetly. “He’s truly in love with her, isn’t he? I know she loves him.”

Owen nodded simply. He was staring at the couple, a strange look coming over his face. “When he asked Myrddin and me for advice on whom to marry, do you know what that shrewd old Wizr said?”

Trynne shook her head no, but gave him an eager look. At last she would hear the end of the story Fallon had interrupted.

“He said, ‘Well, that depends, lad.’” Owen didn’t mimic the Wizr’s voice like others had. He had great respect for the eccentric wanderer. They were often in counsel together for hours, just the two of them. “‘There are many wealthy, prosperous lasses you could marry who would bring you certain advantages.’ Trynne, I’ve never forgotten what he said next. ‘It will be no greater miracle that brings us into another world to live forever with our dearest friends than that which has brought us into this one to live a lifetime with them.’” Trynne felt a shiver go down her spine at the words. Her father’s voice was low and earnest and hopeful. He smiled at her. “Can you feel the Fountain shuddering at his words? I can.” He smiled and then stroked her locks. “So then Myrddin asked the king if there was a girl who was already his dearest friend.” Owen’s eyes glimmered. “And the king said yes, it was Genevieve Llewellyn of Atabyrion. Then Myrddin answered with a shrug, ‘It seems to me that you’ve chosen well on your own.’ Then he asked after Liona’s honeycakes!”

Trynne laughed out loud. “He did? I love Liona’s honeycakes, ever since you first took me to the palace kitchen at Kingfountain!”

Owen proffered his arm. “I’m sure we’ll find some at the palace. And you’ll get to see the new table.”

“I’m excited to see it,” she said, practically bouncing on her feet in excitement. “Can I stay at Kingfountain while you’re here? I don’t want to go back to Ploemeur yet. I love it here.”

Owen pursed his lips. “I’ll discuss that with your mother.”

“Please, Father? There is so much happening at court right now. Grand Duke Maxwell looks as if he’s bitten into a lemon. Elwis looks like he’s drunk vinegar. Duke Severn isn’t very happy with you either.”

“These are my concerns, Trynne,” he said, patting her arm. “And there are even more you don’t know about yet.”

“Like what?”

“Now is not the time. Lord Amrein told me that some Genevese ships returned recently from the East. There’s a civil war going on in Chandigarl.”

“I’ve not even heard of that place,” Trynne said, scrunching up her nose in embarrassment.

“It’s one of the massive eastern kingdoms far from our borders. They invented the game of Wizr over there. Something to keep an eye on.” Together they started down the steps to join the procession.

There was a tug on Trynne’s arm, and suddenly Fallon was at her other side. He was easily as tall as her father, which she detested because she was short, like her mother.

“What do you want?” she said scornfully. She shot a glance at her father. “He tried to get me to laugh by making faces at me.”

“No, I was trying to make you smile,” Fallon said. He put one arm around her shoulders in a sideways sort of hug. “You looked so serious.”

“And smiling would have helped?” she asked with growing anger. She still hadn’t forgiven him for his rude remarks from earlier.

“I like your smile, Cousin!” he said, and then he made an exaggeratedly serious look that was mocking her on another level.

“Fallon, you are—!” she started, nearly grinding her teeth with fury, but he barked out a laugh and interrupted.

“Actually, I came to apologize for my rudeness earlier. I’m a jack and I know it. I can’t help myself. You just take yourself too seriously, Trynne. I consider it my duty to make you stop. See you at the palace.” He patted her on the back in a brotherly way and then skipped down the steps to join his parents.

Trynne kept walking down the steps to the front of the sanctuary, but her mind was busy unraveling her feelings about Fallon. In many ways he was like an older brother or a cousin. He had been sent in wardship to Owen and Sinia for several years during their youth to learn how to be a man. After his fourteenth birthday, he’d returned to Atabyrion. It was there he’d sprouted like a beanstalk. She wondered whether her parents—and his—had intended them for each other. Her mother could see the future, but she rarely spoke of events until after they happened. When Trynne tried to pry for secrets, her mother would look at her seriously and then say nothing. It was infuriating.