The Silent Shield (Kingfountain #5)(43)

As sunrise finally began to cast away the shadows of night, she sat up in her bed in her nightclothes, staring at the brightening sky, arms crossed and resting on her knees. The realization struck her that she had defeated a portion of Gahalatine’s forces. The other three locations he’d attacked had been lost. What would Gahalatine do when he discovered the attack on Ploemeur had ended in failure? It was likely his first. A small smile twitched on her mouth, bringing with it a little shiver. Would he come for her himself next time?

Once again, her mind turned to the conundrum of Gahalatine. Though there was no doubting his ambition or his pride, there was goodness in him. Surely he had sensed that Rucrius was evil. Perhaps many of the Wizrs in his court were, but he lacked the power to overthrow them. He had sought her father’s guidance—and it seemed as if the Wizrs had kidnapped Owen to keep that from happening.

Was Rucrius right? Was Gahalatine in search of a consort? Would the emperor wish to make Trynne, who shared her father’s power, his queen? A small flush started on her cheeks.

Where was Gahalatine at that moment, she wondered. On one of his massive treasure ships? Back at the Forbidden Court speaking to his new hostages? Trynne imagined Lady Evie standing up to him in her outspoken way and the thought made her laugh.

She rested her cheek on her arms, wondering what to do. If she could not leave Rucrius in his cell, then she would need to take him with her to Kingfountain as her prisoner. She would not give him access to the staff or the scroll, both of which she’d hidden.

Rising from her bed, she quickly changed into a new dress and brushed the tangles out of her hair. If only there was a way to get Rucrius to volunteer the information she wanted. Her arm stopped midstroke, still holding the brush.

A poisoner could do it. Her father had told her of the properties of nightshade and how Ankarette had used it to learn information from people. Afterward, he’d said, the people who had divulged their secrets did not even recall doing so.

Morwenna. Even though Trynne did not trust her, she might still be useful.



The rush of the Fountain swept through Trynne as she left Ploemeur with Rucrius. As they shot through the ley lines, she felt the Wizr battle her for control of the destination and experienced a wrenching feeling that tried to pull her along the southern line instead of the eastern one. His will was strong, but his magic could not force her to abandon her desire or her goal. She could not be brought off course by his disruption.

They appeared inside the gurgling waters of one of the palace’s fountains.

As they stood in the waters, Trynne wrenched Rucrius’s arm behind his back at an angle that was excruciatingly painful. His brow wrinkled, but he kept himself from grimacing. She could see that he resented the indignity of being roughly treated by her.

“You will submit and walk with me side by side,” Trynne said, “or I will knock you unconscious myself and have soldiers drag you in front of my king in a heap.”

Rucrius glowered at her, but he could not speak. His mouth was gagged to prevent him from uttering any words of power. There was no torchlight in the small chapel, so his eyes no longer glowed like a cat’s. He inclined his head submissively, but his cheek twitched.

Trynne stepped over the rim of the fountain and they were immediately met by knights wearing the livery of the Sun and Rose.

“Lady Trynne!” one of them said, gawking in surprise when he saw her prisoner.

“Where is the king?” she asked, starting to march down the corridor, her hand gripping Rucrius’s fingers. It was easier to control someone that way; she could immobilize the Wizr quickly if he tried another rash act. Her heart was still palpitating from their struggle along the ley lines. Had she not been anticipating such an act, she may have found herself in the Forbidden Court.

“He’s at the Ring Table,” the soldier answered. He barked a quick command, and one of the knights ran ahead.

Being away from Ploemeur gave Trynne a feeling of vulnerability. She had warned the palace staff to keep her departure a secret. While the other survivors of the shipwrecks did not seem like a threat, she worried that the fleet from Legault would swoop down on them next. The protection she owed her people weighed heavily on her.

As they approached the audience hall, muted murmuring could be heard from the open doorway where the guards were stationed. As soon as Trynne entered the hall, the conversation cut off. Duke Ramey’s jaw went slack at the sight of the captured Wizr. Queen Genevieve was there, cradling her baby in her arms, and she looked at Trynne in wonderment. King Drew was standing, his fists planted on the table, his mouth still open to deliver whatever remark he’d intended to make to Duke Severn. Fallon was seated in the chair called the Siege Perilous, his elbows on the rests, his fingers splayed. He watched her enter, his expression brooding and somber, and then his gaze shifted to Rucrius, whom he regarded with open enmity.

Elwis, who had been pacing around the table, halted when he noticed her. He looked relieved to see her, but also very agitated.

Drew spoke first. “We were attacked by Gahalatine’s forces in four locations at once. To execute such a precise strike across such great distances must have required knowledge and power beyond anything we have yet experienced from our enemy. Three lands have fallen to the might of Gahalatine. But one of ours prevailed. My sister brought me the good news, Trynne.” He smiled and shook his head. “So it is true? Brythonica has not fallen?”