The Wizr gave him an approving smile. “Thank you, lad. I have not felt so appreciated in all my travels. There are rapids in the river ahead. Perilous times are coming. Be courageous. Paddle hard.” He grinned dangerously. “Avoid the rocks if you can.”
The Wizr and the king hugged one another. Trynne’s father’s emotions were obviously churning, so she went to his side and held him. For once, she was the comforter rather than the comforted, and she hardly noticed when his arm slipped around her shoulder.
Myrddin smiled at them, and then she experienced the rushing sensation of the Fountain magic as he vanished before their eyes.
There was a long, stunned silence in the solar after the Wizr disappeared.
The brazier coals were fresh and sizzling and the windows were still open from the day, letting in the night air. It was nearly time for Trynne to go home, but her reluctance to go had only grown.
“I can’t believe he’s gone,” Drew said. He stood by the chair at the end of the table, gripping it so hard his knuckles were white.
“I think I just supposed he would be with us the whole time,” Trynne’s father said. “It never occurred to me that he might be called away elsewhere.” He sighed. “I should have foreseen it.”
Drew gave him a sidelong look. “You can’t always predict everything, Lord Owen.”
He nodded. “I wonder that Sinia didn’t tell me. Perhaps the Fountain warned her not to.” He seemed to suddenly realize that Trynne was still there. “You’d best return and tell your mother this news.” He bent down and kissed her hair, and she hugged him fiercely, stifling a sob.
“Shhh, lass,” he soothed, stroking her back. “In some games of Wizr, it is impossible to predict the outcome. We are not defenseless. No enemy has conquered this city since before the first Argentine ruled it. There is a massive river protecting us, not to mention multiple rings of walls and hills. If Gahalatine or another ruler seeks to conquer us, he will have to earn it.”
She looked up at his face, the fear of losing him unbearable at the moment. But she would be brave. She would be a soldier, like him. Unable to speak, Trynne nodded and then mastered herself. Standing straight, she gave him another hug.
“Give your mother my best regards,” the king said, smiling kindly at her. “She’s my only Wizr piece now. I will need her counsel more often, I think. Your father leaves notes for her in the waters. I may have him start including mine now.” He grinned.
“Yes, my lord,” she said.
He waved aside the pleasantry. “You’ve been in Kingfountain so often over the years, Lord Owen. I know you miss your wife and your other lands. You are as steadfast as Duke Horwath was in service of his king. I miss that old man still. I was just a little boy when I first came here,” he said, looking up at the stone buttresses holding up the ceiling. Then he smiled to himself. “And so were you, Lord Owen. Sometimes I feel as if the true owner of the castle is the Fountain, and we are just here as its guests.”
Her father let go of Trynne and started pacing. “We are more than just pieces in a game,” he said. “At least, that is my hope.”
Trynne bade her father and the king good night and then hurriedly walked to the chapel where the small fountain awaited her. An Espion trailed her the entire way, keeping a discreet distance. She wondered how she was ever going to accomplish anything with so many people minding her. There was news to share with her mother. There were tears to shed on her pillow where no one could see them. Her emotions were wrung out and she was weary.
Trynne stepped over the lip of the fountain and stood amidst the dry stones. In her mind, she thought of Ploemeur and prepared to utter the word of magic that would bring her there.
But before she could, she heard another voice mutter it. A man’s voice.
And suddenly her muscles were locked and she felt as if she were drowning.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Broken Ones
The sensation of drowning sent ripples of panic through Trynne’s body. She was falling through the magic, being pulled down as if into the very depths of the sea, and the crushing weight of it was squeezing her chest, her legs, her throat. Unable to move, unable to see through the dizzying vortex, she cried out in her mind for something to cling to, something to stop the fall.
The magic ended in a jarring crash that left her collapsed on a cobblestone floor. Even though the ground was solid, the world seemed to pitch up and down, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to stand for several moments. A strange blue light masked her surroundings, and the sound of sandals scuffing on stone hung in the air. Her stomach gave her only a moment’s warning before heaving her dinner onto the floor. She knelt, pressing her hands against the stone, and allowed the convulsions to ripple through her as her bowels constricted. Her lungs expelled water to join the sickening mess.