“You should be abed,” Trynne said, glancing up at her mother, wanting to be alone with her.
Gannon’s brow wrinkled. “I know, but Mama wanted me to stay.” He smashed the pieces together again as he made hissing and clashing noises.
Sinia closed the book on her lap and set it aside. “Your sister and I have much to discuss. Off to bed.”
Gannon pouted a bit, but he was an obedient lad by nature. He stuffed the lead figures into his pockets and then gave Trynne a willing hug and a sloppy kiss. Sinia held him for a moment, a contented smile on her face, and patted his cheek before he bounded out of the library.
“Sometimes, when I look at your brother,” Sinia said wistfully, “I remember that your father was about his age when your grandmother sent him away to Kingfountain to be a hostage. It makes me weep sometimes, the thought of what it must have done to her. Seeing her in the palace so often reminds me of it. He’s such a little boy. With no guile.” She took one of the couch pillows and hugged it to her breast. “Sit with me,” she said, brushing a tear from her eye and then caressing the cushion next to her.
Trynne’s throat was thick. She sat down at the edge of the couch, miserable. “You probably already know what I’m about to tell you. It’s not fair.”
Her mother played with some strands of Trynne’s hair. “Some things I know through visions, Trynne. But I can guess at enough through my own observations.”
“It still isn’t fair,” Trynne said, shaking her head.
“Very little in life is,” Sinia replied. “A philosopher said, ‘Only by joy and sorrow does a person ever know anything about themselves or their destiny.’ They learn what to do and what to avoid.”
Trynne entwined her fingers together, twisting them as her emotions battled inside. She let out a deep sigh. “I’m not meant to be a Wizr, Mother,” she whispered.
The stroking hand on her shoulder stopped its ministrations. Trynne felt tears burning in her eyes. She hung her head.
“I suppose not,” her mother said, her voice throbbing with sadness.
“I have tried. But in my heart, I would rather be . . .” Trynne’s words failed her.
“Preparing a castle for a siege?” her mother supplied. “Well, it seems you may get your wish after all.”
Trynne turned her head abruptly, staring at her with surprise. “What do you mean?”
Sinia had a pensive look. She was mastering her disappointment, but Trynne could still see it in her eyes, in her dejected countenance.
“One of the things we discussed in the council was the defense of the kingdom. You already know that the Wizr board has been broken. Rucrius’s magic cracked the stone. That special set has been a key to our kingdom’s defenses for centuries. No one could ever surprise King Drew because the board showed him plainly who was friend and who was foe. It also showed us which direction the enemy pieces were coming from. Who was moving against our king. We’ve been struck blind.”
Trynne reached for her mother’s hands worriedly. “And the pieces?”
“They are just stone now. They do not change color when someone switches sides.”
“Can you fix it?” Trynne asked hopefully.
Sinia shook her head. “That set was created long ago. It’s a relic of the Deep Fathoms. Myrddin said that it was a gift to the original King Andrew, and he used to play the game with his knights. It was stolen, along with the king’s sword and the scabbard, before the battle leading to his grave wound.”
Trynne’s heart shuddered. “Then I should not do this!” she said with anguish. “My duty is here. You are needed at court, Mother. The king needs you.”
Sinia clasped Trynne’s hands and stroked them gently. “Your duty is not here, Trynne,” she said. “As much as I might wish it were otherwise, I can see that your heart isn’t fulfilled by the study of magic. It is a burden to you.” She shook her head, gazing away a moment, as if preparing herself to speak difficult words. She let out her breath and then straightened her shoulders. “Daughter, the king’s men will be arriving shortly with an embassy from the palace. Your father and I have discussed it. The king and queen are investing you with the title of countess. Along with the title, you will be given lands, certain freedoms, and a royal pension. You are to be the Lady of Averanche shortly.”
Trynne’s heart whipped into a frenzy. “Can this be true?”
“I would never lie to you, Trynne,” her mother said with an arch smile.