The king hadn’t allowed offense to cloud his judgment—and Trynne admired him all the more for it. It was exactly what her father would have done, she thought with a pang.
“I will go there,” Trynne said, squaring her shoulders. “He is not himself, surely. I can help.”
“Not alone,” Genny said, shaking her head. She noticed Fallon rising from his chair, his look intense and incredulous. His clenched fists on the table said much about his worry.
“I must go alone,” Trynne insisted. “He’s my husband. I must resolve this.”
The queen’s eyes still glittered with emotion. Trynne could see the resentment festering there. Genevieve was incensed at Gahalatine’s accusations.
“Go then,” the king said. “Go with the Fountain’s blessings.”
Lord Amrein closed his leather folder. “We will postpone the decision on Morwenna, then, until the next time.”
“No,” the king said grimly. “Write up the bill of attainder now.
Morwenna will forfeit all rights and privileges of her rank and station.
She will be a ward of the crown. See it done, Kevan.”
“Aye, my lord,” he replied with a sigh. “In the attainder do you grant her the right to marry? As we discussed, it would bar her heirs from assuming the throne.”
Drew looked at him and then nodded brusquely. “But who will want her now?”
Genevieve walked with Trynne to the chapel, arm in arm. Trynne’s abrupt marital discord had left her feeling hollow. She could see in her mind the pitying looks on the faces of the king’s council. She wanted nothing more than to be alone, but she was determined to face down the imposters and soothe Gahalatine’s misery. It was a trick, a deception. Nearly any Wizr had the ability to disguise themselves. Trynne had seen Rucrius take on the guise of King Drew, and she herself possessed a ring that could change her appearance at will. Morwenna had a similar artifact, although Fallon had confiscated it.
At the thought, the darker part of her feelings bloomed. Had Fallon known something about this through his Espion connections and not told her?
“Where will you go first?” Genny asked softly as they reached the chapel entryway, guarded by the king’s knights.
“The ley line going east can be reached from the south. I was planning to go to Marq first and then join the east–west line. I wish I had evidence of Rucrius’s death, but I don’t dare go to Pisan. I’m sure the poisoner school must have found his body.”
“They may have hidden it,” Genny said thoughtfully, “not wanting to be implicated in his death.”
“True,” Trynne said with a sigh. She stepped over the rail and into the waters, which radiated away from her without soaking her.
Soon, she stood on a circle of dry tiles.
“Be careful,” Genny said. She clutched a hand to her own bosom and looked forlornly at Trynne.
“I will,” she answered. Then, closing her eyes, she thought the word that would transport her away. Kennesayrim.
The rush of the Fountain magic surrounded her and she was falling, embraced by the power and transporting herself through the ley lines across the world, bouncing from city to city in a blur. In her mind, she remembered the fountain that she and Morwenna had visited together on their journey to the Forbidden Court. It would be dark in Chandigarl. She could imagine smelling the cinders.
The magic ebbed much more quickly than she had anticipated.
She blinked, finding herself standing in the fountain at the Chandleer Oasis. The fountain was calm, and glowing stones lit the floor, making the water shimmer blue. The ley lines had only taken her part of the way.
She summoned the word of power again, willing herself to go east, only to be thwarted by the magic. There was nothing there. It was as if a wall had been put in front of her.
The fountains had been destroyed. The ley lines were blocked.
The whisper from the magic brought the dreadful realization.
The fountains had all been destroyed. The Wizrs were cutting off access to the Forbidden Court from the rest of the world. There was no way she could quickly intercede. In fact, she could not go to Chandigarl at all. A voyage there took months, and she had sworn to her mother that she would maintain the protections of Brythonica. If she left to see her husband, her people would drown.
His angry words throbbed in her heart.
Await my coming.
He’d left her with no choice.
CHAPTER THREE
Forsaken
Trynne walked a corridor of the palace of Kingfountain, feeling ill and dejected. She was cut off from her husband, and the memory of his look of betrayal still stung her. He was an honorable man at his core, but he had accused her of duplicity in front of the entire council. She wanted to prove herself by her actions, to lay bare her very soul to him and convince him that she had not tricked him in any way.