His tone was pleading and passionate. There was ambition in his eyes, but it was not the only thing she saw there. There was open fascination in his gaze, as if everything about her intrigued him. She’d always felt so marred, so flawed. Morwenna was infinitely more beautiful. Yet he professed to feel passion for Trynne. But did he truly know her? They had only spoken twice. Was he in love with the idea of her? A conjuring of his own imagination?
He was so handsome, so self-confident. She was neither impressed with his wealth nor impressed by the opulence of his court. She could not imagine herself being the emperor’s wife.
But this was the moment. Her heart told her this was what her mother had seen in a vision.
Gahalatine’s look was so intense and imploring that she gazed down at the rugs beneath their feet.
“I cannot live apart from Brythonica,” she said haltingly. “I have a duty to protect the people in my mother’s absence.”
“Done,” Gahalatine said with a snap of his fingers. “My dear, as you well know, our magic is superior to yours. You can return to Ploemeur instantaneously every day if you wish it. I must rule from the Forbidden Court, but there is nothing to prevent me from joining you or you from joining me. Distance is not an obstacle to us. Please, think no more of it. What else? What are your concerns?”
Her heart nearly revolted at that moment, conjuring Fallon’s face in her mind. She had loved Fallon for so long, even though she’d known they could not be together. Losing him permanently would be painful. She’d been preparing herself for it, but the moment was finally nigh. She pressed her face into her hands and breathed deeply, trying to quell the trembling of her limbs. She looked up at him, his expression so vulnerable. “You do not know me very well. There are many things we do not know about each other.”
A smile quirked on his mouth. “Teach me, Tryneowy, how to please you. I long to tell you stories of my childhood, how I had to flee for my life. How I retook the city of my fathers and outmaneuvered the Wizrs at first. How I earned each of my wounds and battle scars. I long to hear the stories of your youth. Of the mischief you made. Stories of your father and how he outmaneuvered King Severn.” He came closer and lifted her chin, gazing down at her. His thumb brushed against her mouth, at the frown that would not yield. “How this happened to you. And how you faced it with courage. You are so beautiful, Tryneowy, and you are even more desirable in your armor. What else do you fear? The fate of your king? You saw what I did with Sunilik. He is one of my greatest advisors. Surely I will honor such a man.”
His mention of King Sunilik shifted Trynne’s thoughts to Rani Reya. She had sent her to find Elwis and bring him and his men to Dundrennan. Was she trapped in the blizzard with him? Would she perish if Trynne did not come to terms with Gahalatine?
So many lives depended on her decision. The weight of it nearly suffocated her.
“What?” he said, growing concerned. His fingers stroked through her hair. “What concerns you? I cannot bear to see you in pain. Is it that you wish for King Andrew to retain his title? In most cases, I have replaced the rulers of the lands I’ve conquered. But that does not need to happen here. What are you worrying about? Tell me!”
She looked him in the eye and stepped away from him.
“Gahalatine,” she said, shaking her head. “You have waged this war unjustly. We did not provoke you. Your Wizrs have been spying on us, I think, from the poisoner school in Pisan. That is how they met Morwenna and hatched Rucrius’s plot. Our lands had united under King Andrew, and they saw we were becoming powerful, that we might, one day, pose a sufficient threat to the East Kingdoms. To their games. You are being used and manipulated, Gahalatine. Your advisors have tricked you. They’ve encouraged even more lavish spending so that you’ll be beholden to them and their wishes.” She clenched her fists before her. “They murdered my little brother and my father’s parents in an attempt to destroy me. I saw Gannon plummet to his death and I had to commit his body to the Deep Fathoms. Rucrius admitted his hand was in it after I captured him.” She lowered her fists. His eyes were wide with surprise and horror, but she did not give him time to respond. She continued, her manner fierce and bold.
“If that is not enough to harden my heart, I’ve also come to learn that your treasuries are nearly void of coin. Your kingdom is built on sticks that will come crashing down in a strong wind. We will hold out against you. Dundrennan may fall. But I have the power to take my king elsewhere. And you will be forced to chase us from one corner of his realm to the other. You’ve bribed your way to victory thus far. But King Andrew will not yield the hollow crown. It was given to him by the Fountain. He is the rightful ruler. Not you.”