“Well yes, Iago, but if we hire Genevese merchant ships, we can triple the number of vessels and transport the soldiers faster.”
“But can we trust the Genevese?” asked Iago Llewellyn disdainfully, shaking his head. “Perhaps they are in league with our enemies.”
Trynne saw the embassy from Occitania, the Queen Dowager Elyse and her son, the child king looking about as out of place as a young man could in such an environment. His eyes were wide and terrified. His mother looked unflustered, but she had the steel of the Argentines in her blood. Standing behind her chair was the aging herald Anjers, who had a keen eye and a wary expression.
Near them sat the Grand Duke of Legault, a vassal of the crown of Ceredigion. Lord Amrein, who was both lord chancellor and head of the Espion, looked pale and troubled as he spoke about the numbers they had been preparing for the invasion. He wondered aloud if it would be enough.
Duke Severn caught her eye next. Although he was not a member of the king’s council, he had commandeered one of the vacant chairs and sat there stiffly, as if the wood bothered his back, a discontented frown contorting his mouth. Morwenna stood at his side, her hand on his shoulder. Seated next to him at the table was his wife, Lady Kathryn, and Trynne saw them holding hands under the table. Severn’s other hand was gripping his dagger, which he slowly drew from the scabbard, then slammed back down. Trynne thought it curious that Morwenna stood by her father’s side, not between him and her mother.
The dukes of East Stowe and Southport were also present, and Lord Ramey tossed up his hands and, patting the table, asked rather vocally when they could begin discussing the threat.
“My lords and ladies, if you’d take your seats,” King Drew said, his voice cutting through the noise. It quelled in an instant.
Most leaned forward, eager to learn more than the scraps they’d been given before the summons.
The noise of chairs scooting finally ceased as everyone took their places. The king remained standing, his knuckles on the table, his handsome face drawn with concern. He was a young man still, a father-to-be, though most in the room didn’t know it. Trynne could feel the palpable worry emanating from him. He wore the hollow crown and it fit him well, but it was a burden at such a moment.
King Drew waited until everyone was seated in the extra chairs brought in for the occasion before lowering himself into his own chair. His voice was firm and controlled when he spoke. “Thank you all for answering the summons. I received word last night that the invasion has begun. Gahalatine’s fleet left Chandigarl weeks ago. I was told”—here he glanced at Trynne’s mother—“that the fleet has attacked Brugia and will besiege the fortress of Guilme. A ship arrived today from Lord Maxwell confirming it and asking for relief. Rucrius’s warning has been fulfilled. He declared war, and Gahalatine has struck.” The king paused then, raking his eyes across those assembled. “It would be tempting to consider that Gahalatine might be satisfied by conquering Brugia alone, but I do not think he will. It is not only your dominions he seeks to conquer, Lord Maxwell, but Kingfountain itself. He is threatened by us. Like any man driven by ambition, he will not rest until he’s succeeded in his aim. If we do not stand all together, we will topple like so many tiles.” He offered Owen a knowing smile. Stacking tiles in intricate designs had been Trynne’s father’s way of filling his well of Fountain magic when he was a young man.
Drew leaned back in the wooden chair, smoothing his hand across the polished table. “After the Wizr Rucrius appeared, uninvited, in this very room and threatened our city, I sent my sister to learn more about our enemy. She returned with dire news.” He looked at Morwenna and then nodded for her to speak.
Morwenna stepped away from her father’s chair and all eyes went to her. Despite her best intentions, Trynne could not help but compare herself with the other girl. Morwenna was a more impressive figure, tall and athletic and striking. Her raven hair and gray eyes marked her as her father’s daughter, but she was still a mix of her parents.
“My lords and ladies,” Morwenna said with an air of confidence. “I have been to Chandigarl. The threat we face is indeed very real. That kingdom is spilling over with riches from Gahalatine’s conquests. His city shines like a jewel. I’ve never seen the like in my life. There are no poor, no slums. The people conduct business with ferocity until noontide, and then they retreat to public forums to discuss and debate with one another. There is much wisdom in Chandigarl. It is an ancient city.” She shook her head. “There is nothing in our realms to compare it to. The city of Marq is no more than a pebble next to a boulder. Pree? A street.” She shrugged. “What I was most keen on learning is what power this ruler possesses. He is Fountain-blessed and highly respected by his people. They say he is quick to laugh and of a kindly disposition. But I also learned he is utterly ambitious, to the point of being ruthless.”