Trynne wrinkled her brow. “In this kingdom, a woman can be married at sixteen or seventeen. There are no such laws. And my parents are both alive, I hope. They are just not here.”
Gahalatine nodded. “I understand the laws are different in Kingfountain. But I cannot overlook the customs and traditions of my people. I would bring dishonor on myself if I broke the law when it suited me.” He smiled and sighed dejectedly. “If I had to wait a year or two for you, it would not change my answer. It will give me an even stronger motivation to find your father quickly,” he said, raising his eyebrows meaningfully.
Trynne blushed. “I will have you, Gahalatine. I give you my promise.”
He nodded and took her hands and kissed them again. “Until that time, we will be as brother and sister. I would not besmirch your honor for all the world.”
“I know you would not,” Trynne replied. It was obvious the law frustrated him, but it did not hinder his resolve to do the honorable thing. She felt acutely the relief that although she had to marry someone she didn’t love—not yet—at least he was a man worthy of admiration.
He offered her his hand. “I think your king will be anxious to hear from us.”
Trynne could hardly believe what she was hearing. She felt like the sunlight beaming through the curtain of the tent. Would the conflict end at last? With Gahalatine’s help, would she be able to find her father? To save him and Drew and Genevieve? Would she herself be able to save the kingdom?
She was so exhausted, she only nodded. But she reached out and squeezed Gahalatine’s hand. He looked so tender and mournful in that moment, she lifted herself onto the tips of her toes and grazed his cheek with a kiss.
Trynne was amazed at how much the world had transformed since she had arrived with her army. The mountain Helvellyn was sheathed in heavy banks of snow with only a few gray crags visible. The roofs of the town were nearly buried under the drifts. The snow was falling in a continuous plume, threatening to bury the entire world in winter, and the air was so cold it burned her nose to breathe it. She saw Gahalatine’s warriors patrolling the battlement walls, carrying torches and shoveling the paths.
The Wizr Albion brought them back to the great hall with the Tay al-Ard. The smell of blood and death hung in the hall and the place was full of commotion. Gahalatine’s surgeons were hard at work tending to the wounded soldiers who had fought for Trynne and the king.
Her heart filled with grief at the destruction, especially the loss of Captain Staeli.
The crowd parted as she and Gahalatine started to walk, arm in arm, across the slabs of paving stone. She gazed through the crowd, and looking at those prostrate and receiving care, she finally spotted him on the floor by one of the support columns. She’d expected a body, cold and stiff, but he was breathing. They were slow, shallow gulps, but where there was breath there was hope. Haley knelt by him with tears in her eyes. Trynne, awestruck, released Gahalatine’s hand and rushed over to where he lay.
Staeli’s face was chalky gray, his mouth twisted into a rictus of agony. It was heart-wrenching to see her friend and protector in such pain, but he was conscious, and he blinked in recognition when he saw her.
“Hello, lass,” he said with a groan. “We’ll keep fighting. I’m feeling much better. Give me a moment . . . I’ll be back on my feet. We’ll drive these blackguards out of the North.”
She reached out and touched his arm and invoked a word of power for healing. Her magic shrank and she felt herself grow dizzy at the discharge of power.
“You’re alive, Captain,” she said with relief, feeling tears trickle from her lashes. “I’m going to end this war. We won.”
His brow furrowed. “Don’t be rash, lass. We can hold them off longer.”
“I know, Captain,” she said, watching as the trembling in his body began to subside. “We didn’t surrender. The Fountain knew this would happen. What I do, I do willingly.” She gave him a tender smile and kissed his sweaty brow. When she rose, she saw Gahalatine standing nearby, speaking in low tones with the surgeon who had worked on the captain. His Wizr stood beside him.
“My sister wounded him,” Gahalatine said somberly to Trynne. “He still lives?”
Trynne nodded, grateful that she had returned when she did. He had been going through the death throes, but her spell was taking hold and healing him on the inside. She offered a quiet prayer of gratitude to the Fountain that she had known the right word to use.
Then, taking Gahalatine’s arm again, Trynne proceeded across the rest of the hall to the place where Drew, Fallon, and a few others were waiting. Fallon’s leg was bandaged and he was leaning on a pike to hold himself upright. He looked anguished as he watched her approach, her arm linked with the enemy’s. Drew’s look bespoke his curiosity. Gahalatine’s sister stood near Fallon. Her armor was gone and she wore a long, nondescript gray tunic. She was studying her brother and Trynne with interest. Off to the side, Morwenna was glaring at them, her eyes full of anguish and disappointment. She seemed to understand exactly what had happened.