The Silent Shield (Kingfountain #5)(34)

He arrived, looking wearied by his duties, and his face fell further, if that were possible, when he saw her nearly full plate. “My lady, you must eat!” he implored.

“I will, Thierry. I want you to make sure the night watch is vigilant tonight. It looks like there will be fog.”

Thierry nodded. “Fog is a good thing. The shores of Brythonica are deadly to seamen who are unfamiliar with them. If you get caught in the wrong tide, a ship will crash on the rocks.”

Trynne was not comforted by his words. “I have no doubt that our enemies have extensive maps of our coastline. They may have even gotten the tide schedules from the Genevese.”

“Genevar would never betray us!”

“Not willingly, perhaps. In the House of Pillars this morning, it was reported that no vessels from Genevar have landed in Ploemeur in the last two days. Did any arrive today?”

Thierry looked at her blankly. “I don’t know.”

“When you give the order for the night watch, please see if you can find out.”

“As you will, my lady. Please . . . eat some food.” He said it with a look of worried tenderness.

Trynne nodded, but she rose from the table as soon as he left and paced by the window, watching the wall of fog. It would mute a dazzling sunset. She went back and took a morsel of bread and slowly bit into it, forcing herself. Then she opened the balcony window and stepped out, feeling the chill of the sea breeze cut through her gown.

Had the Gauntlet been completed yet? Who had won? Part of her wanted Fallon to win the role he coveted so much. Part of her hoped one of the Oath Maidens like Mariette had claimed it instead, just to spite him. The sun was probably setting over Kingfountain at that very moment. Should she steal away through the ley lines just to find out the news?

A heavy, strangling feeling followed the thought. It felt wrong—very wrong. Trynne frowned, folding her arms and leaning against the door frame, and shivered.

And that was when she saw the first row of ships emerging in a line from the bank of fog.



The main hall of the palace in Ploemeur was thronged with people. The citizenry who lived down below were hunkered in their homes, doors bolted. They were all praying to Our Lady to save them from the invasion that had started on the very eve that King Drew had named his new champion.

Gahalatine was striking Brythonica first. As soon as the ships had been sighted, messengers had rushed eastward to deliver the ill tidings. It was up to Trynne to protect her people, and she felt frightened for them, for her realm, and for herself. Her battle captains had gathered, as well as the captain of the night watch. Her herald stood by listening. There were so many ships sailing toward them, Trynne suspected the first part of the battle would happen on the beaches. She was not going to sit still. As soon as the meeting was finished, she intended to garb herself in armor and fight for her duchy as the Painted Knight.

“My lady, our scouts have counted a massive squadron,” the navy commander said. “They are not concealing their approach. There are six treasure ships and over a hundred support vessels. They are coming en masse!”

“And why did we have no warning?” Trynne said angrily. “I thought our fleet had encircled the area to give us advance word?”

The commander looked stricken. “I can only surmise that our defenses were insufficient. They are coming in with the night tide. They could not have chosen a more advantageous moment to attack.”

“Of course not,” Trynne said, thinking of Gahalatine’s cocksure expression when he had launched his attack on the oasis. Was he part of this attack? Would she have to face him sword to sword?

“This squadron is only a portion of Gahalatine’s fleet,” Trynne said next, shaking her head. “He has many more ships than this, enough to attack our entire coast. This is only the first wave. I am certain of that.” Her stomach twisted with worry. “Keep the citizens indoors. I do not think they will be harmed if they stay away from the fighting. I will not surrender Ploemeur without a contest. Send word to Pree and see how soon they can send soldiers to relieve us.”

“Aye, my lady,” replied her herald, Farnes.

A commotion erupted from the hall as the doorway was thrust open. “The castle! They’re in the castle!” a serving girl shrieked in panic.

“What? How?” barked one of the captains. “Where are they?”

“They came from the chapel,” the girl said through her sobs.

The sound of weapons and clanging armor lit up the corridor.

Benjamin grabbed Trynne’s arm. “My lady, you must flee!”

She shook herself free. “I will not abandon Ploemeur so quickly. Bring me my swords.”

He stared at her incredulously. “My lady?”

“They’re in my chamber. Now hurry!”

Her mother’s aging battle captain, Marshal Soeur, ordered the guard to assemble at the door and shut it. He drew his heavy greatsword while they rushed to obey, but the doors were flung back when they tried to close them.

The noise of metal scraping against stone filtered in from the hall, the grinding shriek of it stinging their ears. Four of the soldiers at the door skidded into pillars, as if slung by giants. None of them got up. Trynne felt a building tide of Fountain magic from beyond the corridor. More soldiers ran forward to help their fallen comrades. Their boots thumped against the tile floor, and Trynne watched in shock as all of them suddenly flew sideways into the nearest wall, brushed aside by invisible arms.