Defend your lands. You control the most powerful duchies and the king knows it. Conquering these lands won’t be easy, nor should it be. Your father wouldn’t lie down and die.”
Trynne rubbed her eyebrow. “I wish he were here,” she said. “I do not know how to take this news. I have a duty to my people. A sacred duty I cannot abandon. My mother charged me with defending our borders.” She paused and looked at him. “You need to know what happened here. How this all began. Oh, where to start?”
She quickly explained to him how Gahalatine had arrived suddenly at Kingfountain, demanding to see her in her domain. How the Mandaryn had filled him with distrust and wariness of her. She then related how the party had suffered the brunt of the magic of the silver bowl, and finally shared her theory—that Morwenna had tricked the men and led them to their fate. That the poisoner had used a spell to steal Gahalatine’s memory, just as she’d done with Dragan.
“My question to you,” she continued after finishing the disturbing tale, “is why weren’t you summoned to the grove? That should have happened following the ice storm. Let me see my father’s ring.”
Captain Staeli wrenched free his glove and offered her his callused hand. The ring was invisible while being worn, so the first time she’d seen it was after removing it from the severed hand found in the grove.
The ring was made of white gold on top of yellow gold, with concentric circles around the band. Her father had won it after mortally wounding Marshal Roux, who had died after charging Owen to protect Sinia. The ring had forced him to defend the grove from any uninvited intruders.
“I sensed nothing when you said the magic should have summoned me,” Captain Staeli answered sternly, gazing at his hand.
“To be honest, I’ve never felt anything particularly special about this ring. Occasionally the magic has felt . . . active, but nothing ever happened. I only had the feeling of being watched. I thought it might be the grove’s magic checking in.”
A ring was only a ring. A master craftsman could have made another one that looked identical to it. A Wizr could enchant it and give it properties of invisibility. Perhaps the true wearer of the ring had been summoned to the grove by the hailstorm after all.
“Could this be another one of Morwenna’s tricks?” Trynne said, shaking her head. “My mind is reeling from the implications.”
A breeze came from the window, followed by a smell that infiltrated her chamber. The smell of flowers . . . magnolia flowers.
There was movement at the balcony window. Staeli reached for his sword when a man stepped away from the curtains, tall and lanky and dressed in black leather with the symbol of the white boar as a badge.
Fallon. Her eyes fell on a cylinder—a Tay al-Ard—as he stuffed it into his belt. His expression was dark and brooding and there was a wry look about him, as if he knew full well he’d startled them both.
“No, Staeli, you don’t have Owen’s ring,” he said, tapping his lips gently with two fingers and then running his hand through his dark hair. “I have it.”
CHAPTER TEN
Hetaera
Morwenna must have sent him to stop Trynne, to arrest her for treason and bring her back to Kingfountain. Panic shot through her, for she knew she’d be forced to flee, perhaps even harm him to do so.
“Well, lad,” Captain Staeli said in a warning tone, positioning himself in front of Trynne. “I suppose we’ll see if you’re as good with a blade as everyone boasts.”
“I’m not here to fight you,” Fallon said, shaking his head as he stepped closer. Trynne summoned her magic, preparing herself for conflict. “In fact,” he continued, “I’m relieved you’re already here, Captain. It saves me from having to seek both of you out, and time is something we have in scant supply.” He looked into Trynne’s eyes.
“Don’t run. Hear me out.”
“I think it’s a trick,” Staeli said. “Go, my lady. I’ll stop him.”
Fallon shook his head. “No tricks. Put your sword down, man.
I’m not fighting either of you. Trynne, I know I must earn your trust quickly. Take the Tay al-Ard.” He pulled it from his belt and held it out. “Both of us know what it can do. I took it from Morwenna. It’s hers.”
“Take it, Captain,” Trynne said guardedly, still looking into Fallon’s eyes, trying to understand what was happening. Her instincts said she shouldn’t trust him. But part of her was desperate to. She needed help—and that could be exactly what Morwenna was counting on. She stared at him with suspicion.