“I would have loved to see Elwis knocked down. He’s too proud by half.”
“Hush, man. Too many ears.” The guards walked past, but one stopped and stared at them playing the game. Trynne felt a twinge of dread.
“Excuse me, kind sir,” said the bruised man.
Staeli frowned and looked up at him, folding his arms.
“But have you or your daughter seen a young man in the sanctuary this morning?”
Staeli frowned deeper and jogged his shoulders.
Trynne was afraid his accent would give him away. “What did he look like?” she offered in a sweet voice.
“Hard to say. It’s an Atabyrion, though. Half his face was painted blue.”
Trynne gave him an innocent look. “If we do see someone like that, should we tell the deconeus or the sexton?”
“Aye, lass. Please do. Sorry to intrude on your game.”
“It’s no problem. Can you tell me who won the Gauntlet last night? I was not feeling well and was abed early.”
The man frowned. “Prince Fallon Llewellyn took the prize. Followed by a Fountain-blessed lad from Legault. But the Atabyrion prince insists that he didn’t win the Gauntlet. He credited the blue-faced lad for being the victor and said he would hold the bag of gold for him in Edonburick. The whole city is trying to find the lad. They’re calling him the painted knight.”
“Thank you,” Trynne said, feeling a flush of approval for Fallon. She looked back at the game, trying to suppress her enjoyment of the situation.
“It’s your move, Father,” she said to Staeli, giving him a knowing look.
“Threat,” he said, blocking her early move with one of his own.
By the end of the game, she had summoned enough power to bring them home.
Trynne withdrew the book she had purchased in Marq from her bag and handed it to her mother, whom she found in the library. “I’m so sorry we were late,” she apologized yet again. “I was so drained that I needed to rest before coming back.”
Sinia did not look concerned at all, which was a relief. “I was waiting up for you, but then saw a vision of you returning this morning.” She patted Trynne’s cheek. “I think you will need to practice traveling the ley lines more, Trynne. It’s the only way you’ll get stronger at it.”
She didn’t reveal that the trip had taxed her very little. It was fighting the street gang and competing in the Gauntlet that had done that.
Her mother examined the book, opening the pages with a sense of reverence. Trynne could see how much her mother loved to read old books. She wished she could share that obsession, but she would rather have been in the training yard or visiting the Gauntlet that had been constructed at Ploemeur. She’d not been allowed to visit it, as only the participants and those helping were given permission to see it. Her plan was to save her own duchy’s test for last, prior to entering the Gauntlet in Kingfountain.
“How was the Gauntlet?” Sinia asked her, making Trynne blink with surprise. “Who won?”
“Fallon,” she answered truthfully, clasping her hands behind her back.
“Did you see him while you were there?”
Trynne bit her lip. “Actually, yes. He was staying at the Espion safe house. Prince Elwis doesn’t care for him.”
Sinia nodded knowingly. “It was both courageous and foolish of him to compete in Brugia. But I’m glad he did well.”
“He’s been spending time with Morwenna,” Trynne said, trying to keep any hint of jealousy from her voice.
Sinia nodded. The news didn’t seem to surprise her. Her mother smoothed her hand over the book cover and walked to the table.
“Morwenna told me that she has learned some of the words of power,” Trynne said, trying to draw her mother out more.
Sinia glanced back at her, her brow wrinkling.
“I think she’d make a better Wizr than I would,” Trynne said seriously. “Have you considered training her? Could she be trusted that much?”
Sinia looked at her, and she could feel her mother’s compassion as well as her disappointment. Trynne knew her own lack of interest must be difficult for her mother, who cared so much about the magic and the tales of old.
“Your father and I have discussed Morwenna’s . . . aptitude before. And the risks.”
Trynne experienced that wriggling self-doubt again. “And?”
“She serves her brother best as his poisoner,” was her simple reply.
“But you do see the talent she has,” Trynne pressed. “More than mine. I’m not jealous of her, Mother. If you want to train her, shouldn’t you?”