A stunned silence hung in the room. They were all looking at Sinia, even Trynne, her heart shuddering with violence. The premonition she had experienced during Myrddin’s speech rang in her ears.
You will sit there also, Tryneowy Kiskaddon. Tell no one.
She stared at the chair called the Siege Perilous and a feeling of fear and misery struck her.
“These are ill tidings indeed,” the king whispered hoarsely. Trynne knew he loved her father with all the devotion of a son. It was Owen’s advice and counsel the king always sought first. Trynne’s father’s skill in diplomacy and war had expanded Ceredigion’s dominion. The thought of another man defeating him in battle was absurd.
“Can nothing be done?” Elysabeth said with tears in her eyes and a catch in her voice. “Do all your visions surely come to pass, Sinia?”
She nodded miserably. “I have not seen all the future,” she said. “But I saw myself alone, raising our son.” Her hand reached down and stroked little Gannon’s fair hair. The lad looked up at his mother, confused by the adults’ conversation and the sudden ill wind that had swept the gathering.
The king began to pace. “Word of this cannot leave this room,” he said firmly. He shot an agonized glance at Owen. “If we are to face such dangers, we need to muster our people’s courage and not their fear. Your visions have all come to pass to our favor, my lady. While I grieve for myself, I cannot imagine the pain you feel. Thank you for coming straightaway. A king must often hear bad tidings. The taste may be bitter, but sometimes the cup we must drink is bitter.”
King Drew shook his head, continuing to pace. “Myrddin, what counsel would you give me? What should we do to prepare for such an invasion?”
The Wizr glanced at his king, his eyebrows knitting together. “The gates of history swing on small hinges,” he said. “I know of this tale. It has happened aforetime. But the past does not always repeat in the same way. Things were different then . . .” His words filled Trynne with confusion, but she’d learned that sometimes it was best to wait for Myrddin to explain himself. The Wizr started to walk around the circumference of the table and began tapping the chairs one by one with the knobbed end of his staff. “There is some time ere this vision is fulfilled,” he finally said. “The Fountain is giving us time to prepare, if we will. You must raise a generation of warriors, my lord, if you know a fight will press on you. If a prophecy of a drought were to come, then storing food is what I would counsel.” He smiled grimly. “Alack, many of our young men will see battle before they come of age.” He looked shrewdly at Iago and Lady Evie, and Trynne felt her heart shudder with worry for Fallon. “The difference in the tide of battle may be shifted because of the efforts of one person.”
As he said the words, he shot a knowing look at Trynne, and it kindled inside her heart a determination to thwart her father’s destiny. A rebellious flame began to dance within her skin. She had always thought it unfair that women were not allowed to become knights of the realm. And yet one girl had—a young woman from the Occitanian village of Donremy. As Trynne thought on the legend of the Fountain-blessed girl, she felt a ripple of approval from the Fountain.
She made two decisions at that moment. Two decisions she wouldn’t tell to a single soul.
Trynne would do everything within her power to be at that battle. And she was going to save her father’s life.
After the meeting was concluded, Lord Amrein was sent away to gather information from the Espion about the possible threats to the realm. The Espion was in charge of warning the kingdom in advance. Iago and Lady Evie left to find their older son and younger children, but they were commanded not to share with him what had been spoken. The king himself charged Trynne to keep the secret, even though it would be an awful burden on her. She promised that she would. Her parents offered some comfort to each other, but her mother wanted to return to Ploemeur at once. The legends were well known, and Sinia’s people became anxious whenever she and her family were gone, even if it was only for a short while. Owen promised he would be ready to return home in two days’ time, and they arranged to meet by one of the castle’s fountains so she could transport them home. Two days was not enough time in Trynne’s mind.
She found herself roaming the halls of Kingfountain, lost in thought, mulling over the decisions she had made. While the magic of the Fountain was powerful, it did not prevent all disasters from unfolding. If it was the Fountain’s will to reclaim a person to the Deep Fathoms, no amount of magic could bring that person back. The stillborn birth of her sibling proved that. To go against the Fountain’s will was to follow a path leading to destruction. The power of water was unpredictable at times. It had to be respected and handled with wisdom.