Trynne shook her head. “My mother cannot control her visions. They are glimpses into the future. But their purpose is to teach her the Fountain’s will. If I had been in Ploemeur, I would have gone to the grove immediately. And if I had, I don’t know what would have happened. Perhaps I would have been abducted. Two pieces lost instead of one from the Wizr board. The Fountain bade me to protect the king. I knew that’s where I needed to be. I thought I could save my father as well, but . . .” She paused, shaking her head.
“Maybe you still can,” Genevieve said firmly, squeezing Trynne’s shoulder. “We will search for him, dearest. Believe that. But for now, we must prepare to defend Kingfountain. My husband told me that the invaders could practically fly. That their ships dwarf ours in size. How did they assemble such a fleet? How did they acquire such strange powers?”
Trynne shook her head. “I don’t know. But I know this. It wasn’t magic that made those warriors fly. I would have felt it. They are different from us, my lady. What manner of men these people are, I don’t know. But I do know that Gahalatine is honorable . . . in the realm of warfare. He could have vanquished us easily. Once he suspected betrayal, he called off the attack. His reputation was more precious to him than a quick victory. He’s not an evil man in the manner we supposed. Ambitious, to be sure! But there is so little we know about the Chandigarli. We have only Morwenna’s interpretation of them.”
Genevieve’s eyes narrowed. “Indeed. I think it may be wise to learn more through a different source.” She gave Trynne a knowing look. “Would you be willing to go there yourself?”
Trynne could not hold back her smile.
“Let’s confer before you leave,” Genevieve said. “The council will be convening in several days when the others return safely to Kingfountain. Walk with me.” Arm in arm, they left the solar and started toward the council. “My husband plans to invest Prince Elwis as the new Grand Duke of Brugia. He says the man’s countenance has changed. He’s more subdued now. Less resentful. He’s bearing the full brunt of leadership.”
“How is your father?” Trynne asked.
“He was grievously wounded in the battle. Of course the surgeons want him to lie on his stomach and heal properly, but he chafes at being so idle. It seems hopeful he will recover.”
“Thank the Fountain,” Trynne breathed.
Genevieve patted her arm.
A brooding cloud of defeat hung over the gathering of the king’s council. There were bruised, puffy cheeks and dark scowls. Trynne spied Fallon slouching in a chair, his leg wrapped in bandages, his look dark and sullen. He waved away a servant offering a drink in annoyance. As Trynne approached the king with the queen, she attracted the gaze of many onlookers.
King Drew was conferring with Lord Amrein at the head of the table. The Espion master had a cut lip, a broken nose, and hadn’t shaved in days, which was unusual for him.
“I have every available man searching for the painted knight, my lord,” he said. “The first reports came from the Gauntlet of Brugia. No one minded them back then. It was an oddity. The Gauntlet of Occitania was canceled. But several witnesses, myself included, have reported that the painted knight was seen on the hill the eve of the battle. Near your camp, my lord.”
“I wonder who it is,” the king said with amazement. “We were fortunate he came.”
“Indeed, my lord,” said Lord Amrein. “Very few had the skills to combat the enemy’s weapons. The glaive is not common in these parts. Yet I watched the painted knight fight the Chandigarli with ease. I’ve never seen the like—not even Lord Owen could fight like that. It’s a mystery.”
“See to it, Lord Amrein. Find the painted knight. We will need him in the days ahead.”
The queen stood by the king’s chair and gently touched his shoulder. When he looked up and saw her, he smiled with exhaustion and sadness. Together they both glanced toward the empty chair. The seat Trynne’s father had been called to sit in. The chair of the king’s defender.
You will sit in that chair, the Fountain whispered to Trynne. But not yet.
“My lady,” said a voice near her, pulling her attention away from the seat of the Siege Perilous. She was startled to find Prince Elwis at her elbow. He was very tall, wearing the fashions of his realm. A small red slash on his cheek had been stitched shut by a surgeon. His eyes were full of pent-up emotion, a look of intense grief and pain.
She felt a small throb of compassion in her chest. She was about to speak, to offer her condolences, but he started speaking first.