Owen nodded at her and smiled approvingly. “Her father is her closest companion. She is fiercely loyal to him. Bear that in mind, Daughter. But I’m proud of you for trying. The idea to send her to Pisan came from her mother, actually, who suggested it to me. And based on what Lord Amrein has told me, Morwenna has an aptitude for spying and has, over the years, managed to root out the Espion we’ve planted in Glosstyr. Obviously we replaced them when their covers were compromised. Maybe her gift is intrigue?” he mused.
“She was more interested in talking about politics than dresses or fashion,” Trynne said. “Actually, I enjoyed talking to her. I wish she weren’t going now. Did you talk to Mother about her becoming a poisoner? Has she had any visions?”
Owen smoothed his hands across the polished wooden table. “Yes. Your mother saw her at the poisoner school and then working as an agent for her brother. It is a difficult life and a dangerous one.” His eyes tightened with memories of the past. “But ultimately it was the king’s decision.” He glanced up at her. “It’s spring and so the daylight has lingered, but it is getting late, Trynne. I have much work to do this evening still. I’d best get to it.” He leaned forward and rose. The weight of the news had aged him, and it made her ache inside.
“Father?” she asked again as he was turning.
“Yes?”
She tried to keep her voice as casual as she could. “I don’t think it’s fair that only the boys get to use the training yard. May I have your permission to practice wooden swords with Captain Staeli tomorrow?”
He chuckled to himself. “That’s how Evie felt as well,” he said. He pursed his lips and then shrugged. “Just don’t make a nuisance of yourself, Trynne. After Myrddin’s warning today, the training yard was overcrowded with boys hoping to earn a seat at the Ring Table. That was one of Myrddin’s hopes, actually. By creating a goal to strive for, the king will inspire a generation of boys into practicing hard.”
“Thank you, Father.” She kissed his cheek and left the solar. As she started down the hall, she spied Captain Staeli following her, faithful shadow that he was. She turned and gave him a serious look. “Tomorrow before dawn. Meet me at the training yard.”
There was a wariness about him, but his only answer was a curt nod.
Sweat dripped off the tip of Trynne’s nose. Her body was trembling with the exertions of the morning. The torches they had used for light had nearly burned out, and the birds were chirping up a ruckus in the woods surrounding the Kingfountain palace. The sun had yet to show itself, but the world was pale and drowsy, and smoke lifted in puffs and plumes from the many chimneys. From her vantage point in the training yard, she could see the poisoner’s tower—the windows dark. She leaned forward, hands on her knees, and panted.
“I thought we were . . . going to use”—she gasped, shaking her head—“the wooden ones!” Her hair was tied back with a strap of leather. She wore a page boy’s clothes and was skinny enough to be mistaken for a boy. Her entire body was dripping and her muscles felt pushed past all endurance.
She had hoped to spend the morning drilling in the techniques of the sword with wooden blades. Instead, Captain Staeli had had her practice swinging iron pokers from the blacksmith forge. For a long while he had pushed her, walking around her in a circle, not exerting himself in the least. He’d had her repeat the same drills over and over again until her shoulders throbbed and her forearms hurt. She’d dropped the pokers noisily several times, earning a frown of disapproval from him whenever it happened.
Captain Staeli shook his head and stifled a yawn. “If you want me to teach you, then you will learn the way I did. If you don’t quit before a fortnight is through, then maybe we’ll get started with the wooden ones.”
“Maybe?” Trynne gasped despondently.
“A wooden sword keeps you from cutting yourself, ’tis true,” he said. “But they don’t build up the muscles you need. That will take time. A lot of time. Again.” He gestured for her to continue even though her arms were whimpering in relief over the brief rest. She had a feeling she wouldn’t be able to brush her own hair later that afternoon.
She gave him a determined look. “I’m not going to quit, Captain. Count on that.”
“We’ll see,” he said with an unconvinced sniff. “Girls are made of softer stuff than men.”
His words sent a shock of outrage and anger, giving her a new burst of strength. But she realized almost as quickly that he had said it on purpose to goad her into working harder. After giving him a black look, she continued. She had been given two pokers, one for each arm. Captain Staeli had told her that most men were trained to favor one arm and use the other with a shield. He had been trained with two weapons equally and found advantages in being able to attack with two. It would give her an advantage that might compensate for her smaller size and frame.