The Silent Shield (Kingfountain #5)(2)

This place was not on it.

She had never been so far from home, but she relished the adventure.

The fountain was in the middle of a paved courtyard. There was a thatch-roofed hut just in front of her. Extending from its side was a pyramid-shaped roof that was bolstered by sturdy stone pillars affixed with stones glowing as brightly as the ones in the water. Beyond the hut was the manor with its many spires and turrets. The courtyard itself was surrounded by a semicircle of pillars supporting timbers and beams and a latticework covered in a variety of grapevines and wisteria, all providing shade over the area. The nearby hedges were meticulously trimmed into square-shaped blocks.

When Trynne swiveled around, she saw a long path flanked by bizarre giant trees she had only seen before in her mother’s books. They were very tall but narrow, like giant maypoles, and their bark bore a strange thatch-weave pattern. The tops of the trees burst into gigantic vibrant-green fronds.

The sound of sandaled feet slapping on stones caught her attention, and she turned again to see a dark-skinned man coming toward her from the shaded pavilion. The doors of the huge manor were being held open by other dark-skinned men wearing turbans.

The man approaching her wore a knee-length tunic the color of whey porridge. It was loose and breathy but embroidered with elegant stitches and patterns. He had a genial smile and bowed his head repeatedly as he approached, his hands pressed together in front of him, his fingers splayed.

“Worthy guest, you are most welcome,” the man said in a heavy accent she’d never heard before, bowing his head yet again. He had a trimmed mustache and goatee and thinning hair on the top of his head. When he reached the edge of the fountain, he dropped to his knees and bowed before her, placing his hands on the ground and prostrating himself as if she were an object of worship.

“Please,” Trynne said, feeling instantly uncomfortable. “Please stand. I didn’t know you would speak my language.”

The bearded man quickly rose to his feet, looking abashed. “I did not mean to displease you.”

His reaction only made her feel more out of place. The oppressive heat had made sweat pop out on her forehead and shoulder blades. The water of the fountain didn’t touch her skirts, but she would not have minded if it did.

“I’m not offended,” she said, shaking her head. “I am unfamiliar with your customs. Are you King Sunilik?”

The man’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh no, honored guest. I am but your humble servant, Samrao. Come with me, if you please, and I will take you to see him. He will be most honored that you came. If you would follow me?”

Trynne glanced again at the strangeness and beauty of the scene, but her head felt as if it were burning under the intense heat of the dusk. She could only imagine what the daylight hours felt like. She stepped over the edge of the railing, and the waters filled the gap she had left by standing in the pool.

She felt the presence of the Fountain all around her. Its magic thrived in this place, from the sleek vines and grape leaves to the polish on the stones at the edge of the fountain. There was a feeling of peace and serenity that made her less guarded and apprehensive.

As she followed the servant, he made a series of claps with his hands. Veiled maidens appeared from the doorway up ahead, each swaying an oversize palm frond. The air had been heavy and still, so the soft breeze came as a relief.

The interior of the palace bustled with servants and visitors who congregated inside to escape the daylight hours. The air was full of unfamiliar smells—spices and perfumes and the savory scent of dishes she’d never tasted. She followed Samrao across a polished tile floor that was made of marble with flecks of gold in the stone. The manor was not as large as Kingfountain, the royal castle in her realm, but it was impressive in its size and decoration.

Samrao paused to speak to another servant, who rushed ahead to announce them. As they moved through the manor, Trynne felt an increasing sense of self-consciousness. She was the only foreigner in the place. All the servants and citizens were dark skinned with black hair. Their form of attire was very different, the men wearing long tunics and boots and the women wearing brightly colored tunics with intricate patterns and covered by diaphanous veils. Trynne’s hair was much lighter, brown instead of black, with a slight curl to her tresses she could never tame. She had always been diminutive, but she was not weak. As the strangers looked at her, she wondered how many had noted the paralysis that afflicted part of her face.

The main entrance hall backed into a high-ceilinged area that boasted a wall of wood-slat windows. Servants with long hooked poles were adjusting the slats to open them up now that the sun was setting.

Queen Genevieve had received a personal message from the King of Chandleer that Gahalatine had announced his intention to invade the small desert kingdom. He had not asked for Kingfountain to defend him. But he had asked if his youngest daughter could be brought to the relative safety of Kingfountain. The king was a disciple of the Fountain, and the magic had moved him to make his request of the queen rather than of King Drew.

Genevieve had showed the message to Trynne, and both had felt it would be an interesting opportunity to gain more knowledge about their common enemy. And since Trynne was training the Oath Maidens, the young women who would help defend their kingdom, the king’s appeal had felt part of a larger design.

Two heavy wooden doors opened at the back of the hall, leading out to a veranda. It was there that she found King Sunilik waiting for her. Samrao gave a short bow and then slipped away.