“Well, I’m jealous of you, Fallon,” she answered. She could see he wasn’t in a joking mood at the moment, which was rare. “All my life, I’ve been told that this is what I’ll be doing. I’ve always been more interested in my father’s powers than in my mother’s. Gannon would be a better Wizr. I’d rather learn how to fight.”
“Why?” Fallon exclaimed. He looked genuinely surprised. “You’ve always talked about it. We used to whack each other with sticks when we were children.” He nodded toward the nearest tree. “I just thought you were trying to . . . to mimic me. I don’t know.” He raked his fingers through his unruly hair. In doing so, he put a stripe of green grass there.
Trynne was tempted to leave it there, but she reached over and plucked it out.
“Not you,” she said, shaking her head. Her voice fell even lower. “My father.”
He crinkled his eyebrows. “So you wish you were his son?”
She shook her head. “No, I just wish that women were given the same opportunities. You heard Myrddin’s prediction. An enemy force is coming to invade us. We’ll need every boy and man to help defend our realm. What if we need more than that? What if this war is so terrible that we’ll need every girl and woman too?” She stared down at her lap, the secret she carried burning inside her soul like a hot coal. She wouldn’t let her father be killed. She had to save him.
He was quiet for a long while. When she looked up, he was staring at her, and the look of respect in his eyes made her blush.
“Well, Trynne, I for one wouldn’t want to face you in battle,” he said at last. “You are the fiercest, most stubborn . . . determined little girl that I know. I may be older than you, but I’m not wiser than you.” He gave her a sidelong grin. “I’m glad you’re on our side.”
She started to smile, then caught herself and stopped.
“I wish you hadn’t done that,” he said with a sigh.
“Done what?”
“Why did you stop smiling?” he demanded.
She stared at him, feeling a sickly cold go through her, ruining the warmth of the moment and souring his compliment. “You know why, Fallon,” she whispered, shuddering. “You were there when it happened.”
“I know I was there, Trynne. And I wish it never had. I wish you’d gone with me to fetch those pies.” He pressed his knuckle against his nose. “But it did happen. You can’t change the past.”
“I know that,” she countered, feeling defensive. “But I also can’t pretend that I’ll ever be pretty like Morwenna. I know that people pity me. They look at me . . . as if I’m cursed or something. I can’t make my mouth smile. It’s lost.” There was that familiar sadness again, that bleak feeling that rose up inside her whenever she thought about the attack. Why were they talking about this now? It was ruining the moment they had just shared!
Fallon shook his head slowly. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to hear it.
“What’s done is done,” he said with a sigh of regret and then got to his feet. He reached down and offered his hand to help her rise. She accepted it, noticing how warm it was against hers.
“I’m going to miss this place,” he said, gazing around the garden. “It may be years before I come back. But at least I know I will see you again. You see, I am determined to win the Gauntlet. So I will be coming to Ploemeur and competing for the badge from Brythonica. Try not to make the test too easy for me.”
“It’s a test of wits as well as stamina, Fallon,” she reminded him. “You’ll be at a disadvantage.”
“Ouch, cruel barb!” he said, planting his hand on his chest and grimacing. “I’m reminded that being in your company is akin to dwelling amidst hornets. There’s a strong likelihood of getting stung. Well, let me claim my prize from the garden. It’s spring and the magnolia flowers are truly a precious thing that I will miss.” He reached up and plucked one from a low-hanging branch. “This one is for you, Cousin. And I’ll claim the better one, here, for myself.” He snapped off not just the flower, but also part of the branch. “Don’t eat the seeds,” he said. “They’re poisonous.”
Trynne cupped the large flower in her hands and gazed at it. “Thank you,” she said in a soft voice. There was much she wished she had the courage to say.
But she did not.