“Of course!” Trynne said after hardly a moment’s hesitation. She felt so guilty inside, yet she managed a lighthearted tone.
“Do you enjoy studying The Vulgate?”
The question caught her off guard. She wrinkled her brow. “Of course I like it. The stories are very interesting, and I love it when I discover a new word of power. I know twelve already.”
Sinia clasped her hands behind her back. “But do you enjoy it? Reading it is burdensome to you, is it not?”
Trynne felt guilt wash down her body into her toes. She couldn’t lie to her mother, not when addressed so honestly and openly. She knew what she ought to say. How many girls were given the chance to train to be a Wizr, an advisor of kings and rulers? It was a precious responsibility; without someone to utter the words of power to protect Brythonica, the duchy could be flooded. It was a duty she could not refuse until her brother came of age.
She didn’t know what to say, and that seemed to be all the confirmation Sinia needed.
“I see,” Sinia said with a hint of regret in her voice.
“Mother, I have tried,” Trynne said with all the pain of her inner turmoil. “And I will not give up. I have much to learn still. I . . . I truly enjoy some of the stories. There are just so many of them.”
“I’m not ashamed of you, Tryneowy,” her mother said gently. And yet there was a look of sadness in her eyes again. Of disappointment. “I want to share this part of my life with you. I enjoy teaching you. But I can sense that it’s not where your heart is.”
Trynne was miserable. “I’ve failed you.”
Sinia shook her head and then hugged her daughter. “No, you haven’t. We are just different, you and I.” She smoothed some hair away from Trynne’s brow. “When I was your age, I was in love with a boy who scarcely knew I existed, one I had only seen in my visions. A ruthless and corrupt king invaded my duchy to force me to marry him, and I had to turn to a tyrant for help.” Her mother looked at her with deep emotion. “I . . . I wanted to raise you in safety so that you wouldn’t have to feel what I did, but that was not to be.” Trynne knew her mother was talking about the attack that had stolen her smile, and also about the future they would have to face someday soon. Sinia took Trynne’s hands, squeezed them, and then kissed her knuckles. “Pardon a mother’s lament. You are growing up so fast.”
Tears stung Trynne’s eyes as she wrapped her arms around her mother and held her, suffering through her own sensations of guilt and worry and conflict.
“I love you, Tryneowy,” Sinia whispered, kissing her daughter’s hair. “Never forget that I always will. You are not a disappointment to me. I know you are trying very hard. Give my love to your father. Tell him I miss him.”
Trynne smiled, wiping her tears away with her wrist. She kissed her mother’s cheek and then, gripping the letter between her fingers, stepped over the rail of the fountain into the water. The water was repelled by her presence, shuddering away from her as if it were an animal afraid to be near.
Daughter and mother locked eyes until the mist rose to carry Trynne away.
CHAPTER NINE
Oath Maidens
When Trynne was a child, she had heard her mother whisper the word of power capable of transporting her across the realm to Kingfountain and back to Ploemeur. It was one of the first words she had discovered on her own. Kennesayrim. It drained the one who spoke it, but it also allowed him or her to use the ley lines to travel great distances. Trynne would arrive at Kingfountain in time for dinner.
Trynne loved using the ley lines to travel. It was like plunging off a waterfall—her stomach would tighten with fear, and thrill with the sense of falling. There was that moment of apprehension and concern that always happened, followed by pure giddiness when she opened her eyes and the mist parted to reveal a chamber in Kingfountain. She wasn’t powerful enough to bring someone with her yet, but her father always had an Espion waiting for her arrival on the other end. Captain Staeli would have the night off, and she imagined him enjoying a tankard of ale and kicking up his boots on a table with a self-satisfied smile. He was a soldier at heart and she could never draw him into conversations about anything other than weapons, fighting techniques, or war. If she ever tried discussing politics or trade, he’d just yawn and otherwise look disinterested.
The Espion waiting for her was Pedmond, one of Lord Amrein’s trusted men, and he greeted her warmly.
“Welcome, Lady Trynne,” he said with a bow. “Your father is waiting in the solar.”