The Silent Shield (Kingfountain #5)(94)

No one had noticed them yet.

Trynne’s stores of magic were depleted, but when she reached out to probe for threats and dangers, there weren’t any.

“There’s Lord Amrein,” the king said, sighing in relief. “Who is that woman at his side?”

Trynne followed his gaze. It was the widow Mariette, whom Trynne had assigned as the queen’s bodyguard. She was exceptionally tall compared to Lord Amrein, but they were speaking in confidential tones. There was an intimacy to it that made Trynne smile.

Then she noticed the king was staring at her. She turned and gave him a quizzical look. He reached out and took one of Trynne’s hands, cupping it between his own. When he spoke, his voice was low and thick with emotion.

“Thank you, Trynne. I cannot thank you enough. You saved my kingdom. You saved us all. You were my silent shield, my unseen protector. You were my true champion. Until your father returns, I would have you take your rightful place at the Ring Table. In his chair.”

Her throat thickened and she felt a spasm of surprise at his words. “But what of Fallon? He is your champion.”

Drew shook his head. “He was defeated, Trynne. You were not.” While holding her hands, he turned to Gahalatine. “I offer you a seat at the Ring Table as well, Lord Gahalatine. I would value your wisdom and leadership. I would trust you as an emissary to act on my behalf.”

Gahalatine smiled, pleased. “It would be an honor, my lord.”

But then someone saw them in the alcove, and the quiet moment ended. Word began spreading like wildfire. “The king! The king is here!”

“The hollow crown! It is him!”

“Wait for me here,” Drew said, smiling with chagrin. He released her hand and marched into the huge room, one hand on the hilt of Firebos. The crowd parted before him as he strode toward the fountain from which he had first drawn the sword. And then Trynne saw that Genny had joined Lord Amrein and Mariette, and a tingle of warmth went down to her toes. Her throat caught with delight as she watched Genevieve, holding baby Kate in her arms, rush forward and embrace her husband with laughter and tears.

“The war is over!” Drew shouted to the assembled crowd in a loud, triumphant voice. “We have peace!”

A chorus of cheers and exultant shouts thrummed throughout the vast chamber. Within moments, the bells of Our Lady began to ring, adding to the frenzy. A few children began dancing with reckless abandon inside the fountain waters. Having heard the stories of her father and Lady Evie playing in that very fountain as little ones, Trynne started to laugh through her tears. She pressed her hand against her nose, trying to stifle the sobs.

Trynne felt Gahalatine’s arm wrap around her shoulders and she leaned into him. He pressed a kiss into her hair.

Genevieve presented the baby girl to Drew, who picked up the lass and smothered her cheek with kisses. A pang of longing filled Trynne at the sight. While she was pleased that the Fountain had used her to bring peace to the realm, she missed her own father dreadfully. Seeing the scene unfold before her awakened feelings she’d suppressed. Would her father and mother come home again? Would they be a family together once more? She remembered something Genny had said, the memory as sharp and piercing as a thorn.

“What sort of world will she inherit? Will it be Gahalatine’s? Or her father’s?”

“She’ll inherit the world we leave her,” Trynne had said.

“And what kind of world will that be?”

Trynne looked up at Gahalatine, saw him staring down at her with a look of affection. It awakened a hunger inside her, a longing that could not be denied. She couldn’t imagine anything changing that look. He was firm and constant. He was to be her husband. She stared up at him, wanting him to bend down and kiss her.

And almost in response to her contented thought, a shadow passed over the sunlight outside as a cloud drifted by. And with it came the memory of Fallon’s kiss.





EPILOGUE


Into the Deep Fathoms


Sinia Montfort Kiskaddon gazed at the map of ley lines she was painstakingly crafting in her cabin. In the months she had been at sea, she had adjusted to the pitch and sway of the ship. There were times when the wind had blown them steadily westward. On other occasions, the ocean was flat as glass and the crew labored with oars and dinghies to drag the ship onward.

Staring at the map, she touched the various islands that they had visited along the way, looking at the markings she had made in her elegant script with the assistance of the ship cartographer. They had encircled the islands to collect the shapes of the coves and inlets.

Each one they had found contained a carved boulder—a boulder with a face engraved into it. The boulders contained the magic of the Fountain—asleep and waiting to be awakened. Whenever she reached out and touched one, she could see blazing in her mind the location of the next stone on the next island. There was also script carved into the rocks, an ancient language, which she had used her magic to decipher. The markings had been left by a Wizr from Chandigarl centuries before, and they documented his search for the Deep Fathoms.

With each visit, Sinia had felt something beckoning her onward.

She sighed, mopping sweat from her brow with a nearby towel. The journey had been both thrilling and dangerous. Storms had threatened them and damaged the ship, and they had encountered a treasure ship not long after leaving Ploemeur. The Wizr on that ship had sought to hunt them down, but Sinia had conjured a mist to hide their escape. Still, all their adventures could not banish her sense that something terrible was happening back at Kingfountain. She’d had a vision of a runaway wagon barreling down the switchbacks from the castle atop the hill in Ploemeur, but the vision was frustratingly short on details. They so often were.