“It might,” Trynne said. “But I cannot think of another way. I wish Liona’s husband were here with his axe.”
Drew smiled. “Shall I send for him?”
Trynne laughed softly. “I’d rather not wait. Your knights can do the work if you call for them.”
Trynne noticed a butterfly with pale blue wings flutter up and land on her father’s shoulder. It was a Sinia butterfly, the breed her mother was named after. As her eyes fixed on it, she felt an overwhelming feeling in her heart, a deep foreboding about cutting down the tree. It felt like a cloud passing over the sun. It felt wrong.
The butterfly suddenly leaped into the air. Trynne tried to follow it with her eyes, but its path was too erratic. Then she realized that people were shouting from a distance.
Drew reached for his sword, his face furrowing with concern.
Staeli turned and frowned, walking toward the noise—as he ever walked toward danger. There was a man rushing forward, trampling through the trees in his haste. He was accosted by the king’s knights, but he struggled against them, trying to reach Trynne.
“Who is it?” Owen asked with concern.
Trynne and the others approached and found a dark-haired man gasping for breath, wearing the tunic of her household. It was one of Thierry’s underlings, a clever young man named Lapiyerre.
“Unhand me!” he said, trying to shake loose of the sturdy knights. “My lady! I am sent from your steward, Thierry. My name is . . .”
“Yes, I know who you are,” Trynne said, coming closer. His face was agitated and nearly bursting with excitement. “What is the news?”
He looked so relieved, but his eyes bulged when he realized that she was with the king and her father. He swallowed awkwardly.
“My lady, her ship. The ship. Blast it all, your mother’s ship! It’s arriving in the harbor as we speak. Lady Sinia’s ship has returned!”
Trynne stared at Lapiyerre in surprise and happiness, which slowly transmuted into sickening horror. Her mother had returned.
Trynne would have to tell her about Gannon’s murder, about Owen’s lack of memories. She felt herself swaying and wondered if she would faint. A hand lowered onto her shoulder to steady her. It was her father.
He looked at her keenly, his eyes full of concern. “I learned about Gannon while we were at Tatton Hall,” he said softly. “About
my parents. We must break the news to your mother before anyone else does. Wouldn’t you agree?” He gave her a reassuring look.
Trynne bobbed her head, trying to maintain her composure.
She’d thought she would have more time to prepare herself for this moment, but at least she wouldn’t have to bear the burden alone.
She put her hand on her father’s forearm and nodded. Then she reached out her other hand and offered it to the king. “We should go at once. I will take us there.”
Trynne’s stomach was twisting into knots of worry. She wanted her mother to see Owen by her side as the ship landed. The king and Thierry were there, and so was Captain Staeli, ever watchful. A crowd had gathered, and the watch had been summoned to push the onlookers back, to make room so that the family could gather privately first. The sun was bright overhead, but there were plenty of cool sea breezes to keep the heat from burning them. It was a terrible moment to talk of death. To describe the near ruin of Kingfountain.
Please let her understand, Trynne prayed silently, squeezing her hands behind her back. She was trembling with anticipation. The boat arrived with the noon tide, and she spied Captain Pyne at the main deck. The ship looked worn and weather-beaten. It had been at sea for so long. Trynne couldn’t help but remember a different day, long since past, when this same boat had prepared to disembark.
Her mother heading off on an unknown adventure, driven to heed whispers from the Fountain.
Commands were shouted and the crew responded sharply and with great order. Ropes were thrown overboard to secure the vessel.
Each moment was an agony to Trynne as she prepared to explain the absence of her little brother, the boy she had been charged to protect. Guilt wormed inside of her.
She felt her father’s arm lower around her shoulders in a comforting gesture. “She will understand, Trynne,” he whispered.
“Won’t she?”
Trynne was so worried about her own feelings, she’d failed to recognize his. This was a man who had lost all recollection of his wife and his children. Gannon’s loss hadn’t stabbed him as deeply because her brother didn’t exist in his memory. He didn’t even know his wife’s face, what she looked like.