Trynne could sense the approach of Morwenna, and she hurried out the door as a servant opened it carrying a tray of uneaten cheese. Her pulse throbbed in her neck as she hastily walked down the corridor, dodging past the servants who’d clustered in the hall.
A powerful jolt of Fountain magic rumbled through the palace.
Trynne instantly became visible again in the corridor, appearing out of nowhere and startling someone who nearly ran into her.
Morwenna had invoked the spell to rip away Trynne’s invisibility, just as Trynne herself had done to Dragan in Marq. But Trynne had been expecting it.
“Beg your pardon, my lady,” the servant girl said, veering away from Trynne with a look of worry. She was well known at the palace and, until now, had been implicitly trusted. Most of the servants wouldn’t be aware of the change.
Good.
Trynne quickly ducked down another corridor, trying to sense the presence of her pursuer. Yes, Morwenna was moving after her, probably disguised as someone other than the queen. Both she and the poisoner were walking briskly. Trynne knew that the chapel fountain was guarded by the Espion. That was where she would be expected to go, but there were other fountains within the inner grounds, ones that her father and Lady Evie had played in as children.
Morwenna had studied the Wizr magic much more ardently, which only added to Trynne’s disadvantage. She experienced a sudden pang of regret for not having learned more. Had she memorized the precise location of the ley lines, her path would not be limited to the fountains.
Trynne suddenly darted to the left, changing her direction almost at random. Both she and Morwenna knew the layout of the palace. The upper part was really one continuous circle. If the poisoner had a Tay al-Ard, then she would be able to use it to catch Trynne by getting ahead of her. If she suspected her final
destination. Trynne knew from experience that the magic of those devices was not infinite. Morwenna would only be able use it a limited number of times before it needed a recharge. How many?
Three or four?
Trynne suddenly sensed Morwenna’s presence in the hallway she had just left. She’d closed the gap almost immediately. A flush of panic rushed through her and she started to run. There was no cry of warning or shout to stop, but she could feel Morwenna behind her.
Tracking her. Running like she was.
Trynne veered toward the door of an anteroom, jerked at the handle, and stepped inside. It was a decorative space, filled with chairs arranged in conversation areas. The far wall was embedded with tall windows. Trynne summoned her magic as she rushed across the room. She stepped up onto a chair, yanked aside a set of curtains, and then pushed at the latch of one of the windows.
There was a pulse of magic, and the door of the sitting room rocked open so forcefully it smashed into the wainscoting. Not even pausing to look back, Trynne hoisted herself up onto the window ledge and jumped down. She heard the splashing of the fountain at the garden, a sound that filled her with desperation to reach it.
Sprinting across the lawn, her skirts nearly tripping her, she raced to the edge of the fountain. Magic swelled behind her again, a freezing spell that should have stopped her in her tracks. The spell diverted away, and Trynne leaped into the waters, turning briefly.
She saw a woman standing at the window—it wasn’t Morwenna’s face, but Trynne could sense the illusion. There was a scarab-like ring on the middle finger of her raised hand. Even from this distance, she thought she could see the malevolence in the girl’s eyes.
Trynne stared at her a moment, feeling the huge wave of magic building up inside of Morwenna. The fountain she stood in began to hiss and gurgle, and Trynne felt immense pressure thudding in her skull.
She invoked the word to transport herself away. Kennesayrim.
With great agitation, Trynne walked the grounds of the sanctuary of Our Lady. Her ring disguised her as a commoner, but it didn’t make her feel safe. She paced for several hours, hoping Mariette would come and terrified she would not. Always, she stayed in the portion of the grounds where she had a view of the royal docks across the river.
Trynne had always been good at playing Wizr, but there were moments in some games when an opponent’s move irrevocably changed the whole game.
Morwenna had abducted the queen. She had poisoned the royal child. Her failure to become Gahalatine’s queen—and by extension to rule all of Kingfountain—had clearly pushed her across a moral line. Her father was dead, his ties to loyalty and honor severed. She had changed the rules, and Trynne would have to outthink her and outmaneuver her.
At least all the pacing and plotting was helping Trynne fill her magical reserves. This was a challenge she relished, and she was determined not to let Morwenna win. She was the king’s champion still, even if he was too addled by magic to recognize it.