Genny gave her a sage look. “I fear some of our own people would have done the same.” She sighed. “Even after the miracles that were shown months ago, I’ve already heard whispers that some of the people are doubting what they saw.”
Trynne patted Genny’s arm. “Gahalatine had great faith in the Fountain.”
Genny gave her a sidelong smile. “You helped strengthen it for him, Trynne. Being there in his sickness took great courage. I’m grateful that your mother’s vision showed you’d return to us unharmed. Many of the people who refused to leave probably were unwilling to forsake their treasures. All we have will be reclaimed by the Deep Fathoms eventually. Why cling to what is not truly ours?”
“Well said,” Trynne offered. “I’m at peace with Gahalatine’s death. I’m still not at peace with what Fallon sacrificed. You’re his sister, so I suppose we get to commiserate with each other. How are your parents handling it? Do they mourn?”
Genny looked away, as if the words were too painful. They walked in silence alongside each other for a while before the queen responded. “Both of them, as you can imagine, are hurting still. Yet we’re also proud of him. There was a time, not long ago, when we all feared the worst would come of him. Didn’t we?” She tugged on Trynne’s arm. “He was utterly unpredictable, but he changed. Part of it was because of your father’s influence on his life. But the larger part, I think, was because of you.”
Genny gave her a poignant look that made Trynne want to hide in a closet and cry. But she was determined to be strong. Her mother had promised that everything that could be made right would be. She would trust in that.
“Are you ready for the news, then?” Genny asked somberly.
When Trynne nodded, the queen continued. “Morwenna’s trial was completed last week and the Assizes rendered judgment. Nothing was rushed, and copious records were made. Polidoro performed the task of recording the proceedings with great diligence. We will be judged in the future by how we treated Morwenna Argentine.”
“Treated—you mean she’s dead?” Trynne asked, her soul feeling a pang of unexpected sorrow.
Genny nodded. “Looking at the record of the Maid, it is clear in retrospect that she was Fountain-blessed and only sought to do the Fountain’s will. She was judged harshly and condemned because of politics. We did not want to replicate the mistake, so we refused to rush to judgment. Your evidence played a strong role in the decision, but not yours alone. She was feared at the poisoner school in Pisan.
As the pieces came together, the conclusion was inescapable. She had committed treason in every possible way. And so she was condemned.”
Trynne breathed through her nose, trying to suppress a shudder. “Was she chained to the rock like the Maid? In Helvellyn?”
Genny shook her head no. “Sinia had a vision of her execution.
In the records, the way to kill a Wizr is to bury them with stones. It was how they tried to kill Myrddin, if you remember the legend.” She laughed softly. “She was taken to a cave without food or drink and a stone was dragged forth to cover it. She railed against the king the entire time, during the trial and after. She didn’t go to her death quietly. Well, at least until the stone covered the door. Your father stood vigil with guards for ten days. When they removed the stone, she was dead.”
Trynne’s voice quavered. “I’m grateful that I didn’t have to be there.”
Genny stopped and touched her shoulder. “Drew insisted you should not be,” she said gently. “He felt—we all felt—you’d been through enough. She is gone forever. Dragan’s end—well, that is a somewhat different story.”
“Truly? Were his memories restored?”
Genny nodded solemnly. “Apparently the anguish of them drove him mad. Perhaps the clarity of the Dryad’s kiss finally made him realize that he was responsible for his daughter’s death, not your father. He hanged himself two days later.”
“Let’s keep walking,” Trynne suggested. “This talk is too gloomy on such a morning.”
“It is indeed,” Genny said. “It needed to be said, though. Not all of Gahalatine’s Wizrs were captured, were they? Any or all of them could prove troublesome later. Drew is watching the Wizr board closely. What happens now that the game has ended? None of us knows. Thankfully, we do have our own Wizr—and that is a comforting thought.”
Trynne smiled, missing her mother very much. She thought of her father having to participate in Morwenna’s execution. He’d never be rid of that memory. The Dryad’s kiss guaranteed it.