“There will be one seat, however, that is different from the others,” King Drew went on. “Not my seat, for I am the most ordinary of men. So it was in days of old. So it will be again. Myrddin?” he said, making a gesture of invitation.
The Wizr, gripping his gnarled staff, began to walk around the circumference of the Ring Table, his sandaled feet slapping on the marble tiles. Trynne saw the eyes upon him. As the king had spoken, she had seen the ambition lighting everyone’s faces. She wondered if there was a single person in the king’s hall who did not covet a seat at that table. Her mouth was dry as she felt the anticipation begin to churn inside her. All of her dread and panic suddenly subsided as she sensed the magic of the Fountain rippling through the stillness.
The Wizr stopped at a singular chair. He reached up and rubbed his chin, gazing thoughtfully at the assembled crowd. His eyes stopped when he reached Trynne and her family. “This seat,” he said, his face stern and serious, “is different from the others. This seat is called the Siege Perilous.”
As he said the words, Trynne heard a voice inside her mind mimicking them: Siege Perilous. A flash of light blinded her momentarily, and then a vision stole all her senses. It was of herself, wearing a knight’s tunic with the symbol of a horse on it, sitting in that chair. When she surfaced, Myrddin was staring at her, his eyes riveted to hers.
“This chair,” the Wizr said in a loud voice, “is the chair of the king’s champion. His most trusted knight. The defender of his honor.”
Trynne felt her father’s hand on her shoulder, his fingers squeezing hard.
“Choose wisely,” the Wizr said to the king, his voice becoming suddenly grave and full of warning. “For I foresee a day when another king will come with a vast and unlimited host to take your place at this table. If your champion fails or falls, this rival will hack this table into firewood and place his own lieutenants in control of your fractious dominion. If you lords and ladies do not stand firm and united, then this table will be shattered and broken forever. At great cost to us all.”
The Wizr frowned solemnly. “Name your champion wisely,” he said in an almost threatening tone.
King Drew looked shaken by the Wizr’s pronouncement, but he answered him at once. “I name my champion Lord Owen Kiskaddon,” he said firmly. “He will sit at the Siege Perilous.”
You will sit there also, Tryneowy Kiskaddon, whispered the Fountain to her. Tell no one.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Vision
The prophecy of Myrddin had caused a ruckus. King Drew dismissed the assembly and the whispering visitors were ushered out of the chamber by the butlers and guards. The riotous noise was tamped down, though echoes of it could be heard throughout the palace until the massive wooden doors were shut and barred.
Only the Wizr, the king and his new queen, Trynne’s family, Fallon’s parents—though Fallon had balked at leaving—and Lord Amrein remained in the chamber. Trynne decided it would be presumptuous to assume she was invited too, so she took Gannon’s hand and prepared to leave. Her father held up his hand, forestalling her.
The king’s brow was furrowed as he paced the room, tapping his lip with a finger and glancing at the others with vexation. “You bring ill tidings on my wedding day, Myrddin,” he said in a serious tone. The couples had all gathered around each other.
“I know, lad. I know,” the Wizr said, puffing out his chest and sighing. “Something has changed. The Wizr board is beginning to move again. You can feel the pieces raking, stone upon stone, can you not?”
Trynne’s father coughed into his hand, drawing their gazes.
“Lady Sinia,” the king said, turning toward her. “Your presence at court was unexpected. At first, I thought you had managed to come celebrate with us, but I can see by your visage that you have had a vision—and that it troubles you.”
“Aye, my lord,” Trynne’s mother answered. She was still clinging to Owen’s hand.
“Tell us,” Elysabeth said, her eyes shining with emotion. She sidled up near her husband, who also looked grave and concerned. They stood by one of the chairs at the massive table, his hand touching the back of it.
Trynne’s parents exchanged a look, and then Owen looked back at the others. “I think we should tell them,” he said softly.
Sinia quickly blinked away tears and brushed her hand across her eyes. “I did see a vision. I saw the horde that Myrddin spoke of. I have never seen an army of that size before. It was frightening in its power and immensity. A flood of men and shields and strange blades. I didn’t recognize the land from the vision. It was . . . unfamiliar to me, not any place I have seen or visited. We were outnumbered. I saw you there, Your Highness. I saw many there.” She looked at Iago and then at Lord Amrein. “I saw my husband leading our army.” Her voice became thick. “The battle was terrible to behold. I saw myself at Kingfountain with the queen. Owen didn’t come home after the battle. I saw grief and fear.” She covered her face, but it could not mask her misery.