Fallon’s eyebrows arched with surprise. “What vision?”
“Never mind that,” the king interrupted, waving at him to be still. “Say on, Owen. What did you make of this Wizr?”
Owen rubbed his lip. “He was overconfident, to be sure. When he arrived, he tested each one of us to see which were Fountain-blessed. He was here to issue a challenge, but also to determine our weaknesses. He was clearly surprised that his magic didn’t work on me. I sensed his vulnerability and would have been able to slay him. He knows that now. I don’t think he did before.”
“So we’ve startled him, eh?” Drew said. “He left in a hurry. And we didn’t need to beg him to stop the flood either. This puts our situation in a better light in my eyes. But I’m alarmed that our enemy was able to arrive in the middle of our stronghold without invitation or prevention. Is there no way to lock down these ley lines, Lady Sinia? To prevent others from using them?”
Sinia smiled sadly. “There is only one way, my lord. And that would be to destroy the sanctuary.”
“That’s not exactly an option, is it?” the king said, bemused. Then he glanced at his blood-sister. “We have been preparing for this conflict for some time. You once told me, Lord Owen, and I believe you gained this wisdom from Ankarette Tryneowy, that the Fountain’s most valuable gift is that of discernment. We have clues about our enemy, this Gahalatine. What we need is more intelligence. Master Amrein, so far the Espion has only been able to speak to those who have been to Chandigarl. We’ve had no luck sending someone there?”
“Not yet,” came the solemn answer.
The king nodded and sniffed with frustration. “I think it’s time we sent our own emissary to Chandigarl.” His eyes shot to Morwenna. “We need to understand the character of our enemy. If the ley lines work both ways, then perhaps we should use them to our advantage as well.”
Trynne saw the look of fear in Fallon’s eyes. His teeth clenched and he took a step forward. “I will go with her. My lord king, grant my request.”
Trynne’s heart shriveled with blackness at the sight of the desperation and disquiet in Fallon’s eyes.
King Drew studied the young man but did not answer right away. He leaned back in his chair and then glanced at his wife.
Genevieve’s look was one of steel. “Impossible.”
“Sister!” Fallon seethed.
“I am speaking as your queen,” she said, rebuffing him. “To risk one life is not an easy decision. But to risk more unnecessarily?”
Fallon gripped the top of one of the chairs, clenching the wood so hard his knuckles burned white. “Remember when Severn sent Mother and Lord Owen to Atabyrion? He was dressed as one of her father’s men. Why not use such a ruse now? Morwenna has power. But we all know that if a Fountain-blessed is pushed too hard, they grow weak.” His eyes glanced quickly at Trynne and she was absolutely mortified and stung by the insinuation.
“Your argument has merit,” the king said. “But that does not imply we should send you. Take your emotion out of this, lad. There is no doubting your bravery. But you have ever been reckless.”
It was a gently given rebuke, but it clearly stung. Fallon’s eyes widened with offense, although he could not argue the point. No one who knew him well could.
“My lord,” he said pleadingly, looking miserable.
“I would hear other thoughts,” the king said, glancing around the table. “Weigh the merits of this decision. I will not risk my own sister’s life needlessly. Owen?”
The room filled with anguished silence.
Owen stared at Morwenna. So did Trynne. The poisoner looked a little fearful, but it was clear she intended to rise to the challenge of the mission. She looked confident and poised. Trynne felt vulnerable and weak.
“I think we should send her,” Owen said, his brow wrinkling. “Alone.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Broken Friendship
“Trynne!”
It was Fallon. His voice and the sound of his stride announced him as he hurried down the corridor to catch up with her. The halls of Kingfountain were bustling with servants in a state of consternation from the otherworldly display of power that had wreaked havoc on the city. The citizenry had been flocking to the sanctuary of Our Lady, some to drop coins in the water to offer thanks, others driven by the fear that the sanctuary could no longer protect them.
The king’s council had adjourned and Trynne had been instructed by her parents to return immediately to Ploemeur to ensure all was well at home. She didn’t want to return, but she was walking down the hall to the chapel fountain, her heart raging with conflict. In her hand, she squeezed the champion’s chain she had taken from Prince Elwis the day before in Brugia. She could hear the murmurings of the wellspring magic again, though faintly. Yet her failure to maintain the shield still tortured her.