The Silent Shield (Kingfountain #5)(24)

“Enter,” she said, pulling out a pair of earrings as the door opened and old Farnes entered, wheezing, with Rani Sureya behind him.

Farnes gave her a formal bow, struggling with his breath. “A carriage arrived at the gate with a nobleman from the Occitanian city of Lionn seeking to meet you. I . . . sent him away. You wished to speak to the princess.” He straightened and shut the door as he left.

Sureya, who had taken to wearing the fashions of Kingfountain, had also bathed and changed. She looked on nervously as Trynne fastened the earrings to her lobes.

“You fight very well, Sureya,” Trynne said, turning around and smoothing her dress. “I thought you came here to be taught, but you are more capable than many of the girls who have been training for months.”

Sureya blushed and bowed her head. “I am not nearly as skilled as you are, Lady Trynne.”

“Who taught you?”

“My father has only daughters. He made certain we were trained to defend ourselves. There was a man, a mercenary of Genevar who had gone to live among the Bhikhu. My father hired him to train us.”

Trynne wrinkled her brow. “Your father mentioned the Bhikhu previously. They are the ones who fight for Gahalatine.”

Sureya nodded. “I cannot float as the Bhikhu do.” She wrung her hands together. “You fought today like Turandokht, Lady Trynne. I am honored to serve you.”

Trynne approached her, appraising her further. “You fought very well yourself. You use your elbows and feet as deftly as you do your weapons. Who is this Turandokht you mention?”

“You have not heard of her?” Sureya said in surprise. “She was the most famous Fountain-blessed of her generation.”

“In our histories, the most famous Fountain-blessed was the Maid of Donremy. She was a girl from an obscure village in Occitania who led her people to victory against Ceredigion. Could we be using different names for the same person?”

“No, Turandokht is from our part of the world,” Sureya insisted. “She was from Chandigarl. Her uncle was the Emperor of Chandigarl three centuries ago. Her father’s name was Turan. In that country, dokht means ‘daughter.’ She had brothers, but she was the best fighter and horse rider in all Chandigarl. She fought with hook swords. Two of them. They were Turandokht’s specialty.”

Trynne nodded. “While I am gone, please speak to Farnes about them. He will have the castle weaponsmith make them. Thank you for sharing her story with me.”

Sureya beamed at her with pleasure. “Even your name sounds like it comes from Turan, Lady Trynne. She was famous in our lands. She refused to marry anyone who could not outwrestle her. It was said that if a man challenged her for the right, he had to give her three horses if he failed. There was grazing land dedicated to the herd of horses she’d won. No one ever did defeat her, although she did choose to marry eventually. After Turan died, her brothers fought over the inheritance. People said that she should have inherited all of her father’s wealth, for she was very wise.”

“Whom did she marry?” Trynne asked. Her father had always said that certain roles were played over and over throughout history. He had described it as being trapped on a waterwheel in a river of destiny that one could not easily escape. She knew better than to ignore coincidences.

“A man who tried and failed to murder her father,” Sureya answered with an impish smile. “The history of the East Kingdoms is lavish with intrigues.”

The words sent a tremor through Trynne, as if some heavy stone were being dragged across the floor, rumbling the entire castle. It struck her forcibly, stealing her breath.

“Are you well, my lady?” Sureya asked.

“I am,” Trynne said, though she felt slightly dizzy. “I must be away. Thank you for sharing the history with me.”

“I’ve offended you,” Sureya said, her face growing worried.

“No, you haven’t,” Trynne said, touching the girl’s arm. “My father is missing. I worry about him every day. Your words struck me, that is all. It would be . . . it would be very difficult for me to love a man who’d hurt him.” Fallon’s face flashed inside her mind, along with the remembrance of the silver mask she had taken from his tent in her guise as the Painted Knight. If Fallon had had anything to do with her father’s disappearance, whatever his reasons, she would lose all respect for him.

Sureya nodded in understanding. “I should have been more cautious in my words. Forgive me. I share your pain, Lady Trynne. I too wonder what has become of my father.” Her brow furrowed with worry. “I would give anything to know.”

Trynne found herself liking the princess more and more. The two embraced, a simple gesture that strengthened their connection. Trynne gave her new friend a smile. “I will look forward to training with you when I return.”

“Is it near the Feast of St. Benedick?” Sureya asked. “Are you going to meet your lover?”

Trynne’s eyes widened with shock. “Grand Duke Elwis?”

Sureya nodded, but her eyes were guarded.

“No!” she replied, laughing a little. “No, he . . . I am not going to see him yet. And he and I are not . . . attached. I promised him that I would visit, but I need to go to Brythonica first to see my mother. She is leaving on a great journey.”

Sureya blinked with surprise. “You do not care for the grand duke? The one whom I met?” A little flush crept onto the princess’s cheeks.