She had appeared inside a fountain at the front of a palatial manor. As the mist dissolved around her and she heard the bubbling of the waters, she was struck by an oppressive heat that nearly took her breath away. The location was foreign to her, and her eyes filled with wonder as she stepped to the edge of the stone lip of the fountain. She didn’t want to leave the protection of it yet, just in case her summons there had been a carefully laid trap.
With four equally sized quadrants, the fountain was designed to resemble a flower. There were glowing stones in the water—so curious to behold—which gave the water a strange aspect. She didn’t know what made the light, but she knew Chandleer Oasis was part of the Marusthali Desert, located along the major ley line going east and west. Her mother possessed a book of maps, which Trynne had studied all her life, imagining herself in places she’d only heard of by name.
This place was not on it.
She had never been so far from home, but she relished the adventure.
The fountain was in the middle of a paved courtyard. There was a thatch-roofed hut just in front of her. Extending from its side was a pyramid-shaped roof that was bolstered by sturdy stone pillars affixed with stones glowing as brightly as the ones in the water. Beyond the hut was the manor with its many spires and turrets. The courtyard itself was surrounded by a semicircle of pillars supporting timbers and beams and a latticework covered in a variety of grapevines and wisteria, all providing shade over the area. The nearby hedges were meticulously trimmed into square-shaped blocks.
When Trynne swiveled around, she saw a long path flanked by bizarre giant trees she had only seen before in her mother’s books. They were very tall but narrow, like giant maypoles, and their bark bore a strange thatch-weave pattern. The tops of the trees burst into gigantic vibrant-green fronds.
The sound of sandaled feet slapping on stones caught her attention, and she turned again to see a dark-skinned man coming toward her from the shaded pavilion. The doors of the huge manor were being held open by other dark-skinned men wearing turbans.
The man approaching her wore a knee-length tunic the color of whey porridge. It was loose and breathy but embroidered with elegant stitches and patterns. He had a genial smile and bowed his head repeatedly as he approached, his hands pressed together in front of him, his fingers splayed.
“Worthy guest, you are most welcome,” the man said in a heavy accent she’d never heard before, bowing his head yet again. He had a trimmed mustache and goatee and thinning hair on the top of his head. When he reached the edge of the fountain, he dropped to his knees and bowed before her, placing his hands on the ground and prostrating himself as if she were an object of worship.
“Please,” Trynne said, feeling instantly uncomfortable. “Please stand. I didn’t know you would speak my language.”
The bearded man quickly rose to his feet, looking abashed. “I did not mean to displease you.”
His reaction only made her feel more out of place. The oppressive heat had made sweat pop out on her forehead and shoulder blades. The water of the fountain didn’t touch her skirts, but she would not have minded if it did.
“I’m not offended,” she said, shaking her head. “I am unfamiliar with your customs. Are you King Sunilik?”
The man’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh no, honored guest. I am but your humble servant, Samrao. Come with me, if you please, and I will take you to see him. He will be most honored that you came. If you would follow me?”
Trynne glanced again at the strangeness and beauty of the scene, but her head felt as if it were burning under the intense heat of the dusk. She could only imagine what the daylight hours felt like. She stepped over the edge of the railing, and the waters filled the gap she had left by standing in the pool.
She felt the presence of the Fountain all around her. Its magic thrived in this place, from the sleek vines and grape leaves to the polish on the stones at the edge of the fountain. There was a feeling of peace and serenity that made her less guarded and apprehensive.
As she followed the servant, he made a series of claps with his hands. Veiled maidens appeared from the doorway up ahead, each swaying an oversize palm frond. The air had been heavy and still, so the soft breeze came as a relief.
The interior of the palace bustled with servants and visitors who congregated inside to escape the daylight hours. The air was full of unfamiliar smells—spices and perfumes and the savory scent of dishes she’d never tasted. She followed Samrao across a polished tile floor that was made of marble with flecks of gold in the stone. The manor was not as large as Kingfountain, the royal castle in her realm, but it was impressive in its size and decoration.