“Captain Abinante,” Benjamin said with a bow, but he did not leave.
“Lady Tryneowy,” the captain said with a gregarious smile, “it is a pleasure to meet you. I believe that was your younger brother I passed on my way in?”
“It was,” Trynne said, feeling her anxiety grow.
“A charming lad. I have been in Ploemeur for two days, my lady, and will leave with the turning of the tide today. I have served House Asturias for many years. My lady, the grand duke is a changed man, and I attribute that to your influence and his father’s untimely demise. He is one of the most determined men I know. None of this has he commanded me to say.” He smiled in chagrin. “I just wanted to speak his praises myself. He gave me this note, fixed with his seal, to deliver to you on the morning of the Feast of St. Benedick. I don’t know what it contains, but I have discharged my duty.” He withdrew a folded and sealed note from his wide belt, offered it to her, and bowed with a flourish.
Trynne accepted it graciously. “Thank you for taking the trouble, Captain.”
“It was no trouble at all, my lady,” he said with a smile. “I hope you will grace our fair kingdom soon with your presence. Good day to you.” He bowed again and departed. Benjamin escorted him to the doorway and out, but paused and looked back at Trynne as she examined the letter addressed to “My Lady” in an elegant hand.
She wondered if the letter were from Elwis at all. Poisoners were deceitful people, capable of anything. She opened herself to her magic, letting it test the paper, the seal, and the contents for signs of danger. There were none, which relieved her, but the dread she’d felt earlier, from the mere memory of Dragan, lingered. Her heart began to beat faster and she was overcome by the sudden urge to flee. Determined to face her terror with courage, she walked calmly and deliberately to the balcony and stepped outside into the fresh air.
There was a wall of fog out at sea, but it had not come ashore today. The air was flavored with eucalyptus and salt. Standing at the balcony edge, she suddenly felt vulnerable. The cliff down to the city below was sharp from her vantage point. She heard the jangle and clack of the carriage carrying her brother and grandparents as the horses started down the road leading to the House of Pillars, the place of judgment in Ploemeur, which her mother had long presided over.
To dispel her nervousness, she broke the wax seal and carefully unfolded the paper. The breeze tousled her hair as she leaned back against the railing and read the short message.
My Lady Trynne,
If my messenger has found you, then you are reading this on the morning of the Feast of St. Benedick. I will be awaiting you at the sanctuary of Our Lady of Marq. I have no expectations of you. I am filled with gratitude that you condescended to meet me. I would be lying if I said I was not looking forward to showing you the wonders of this great city where I spent much of my childhood. There is a beautiful fountain amidst the waterways that I am most eager to share. I think you will like it. I pray to the Fountain this will not be our only opportunity to grow better acquainted.
With great respect,
Elwis
Trynne blinked, feeling a rush of relief. Elwis had calmed her worries about the visit in one simple note. There were little clues throughout his message that his feelings for her were deeper than he’d expressed them to be. But he was determined to woo cautiously and allow her behavior to guide him. So unlike the daft nobles who had pressed for interviews with her in Averanche.
She read the letter again quickly, admiring the steady hand and penmanship. Had he copied the letter several times to get it right? She assumed he had not delegated the writing of such an intimate matter to one of his scribes.
It made her smile, and she pushed away from the railing and turned to look over the city once more. A sunrise in Averanche. A sunset in Marq. She was so grateful to have the ability to traverse the kingdom in a mere moment. It would be a memorable day, an opportunity that would not come again now that the threat of war was on the horizon.
There was a cracking noise in the distance, followed immediately by the screams of horses. Trynne’s heart lurched as her eyes went to the source. A plume of dust churned into the air, and she watched in horror as the carriage carrying her brother skidded off the side of the mountain, dragging the terrified horses with it.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Mortain Falls
There were no majestic, towering waterfalls in Brythonica. But Mortain Falls was just on the outskirts of Ploemeur, nestled in one of the beautiful hunting woods preserved by the house of Montfort. It was forbidden to hunt in the woods except by leave of the duchess. The falls were a series of steplike rocks, full of moss and fern, down which water fell steadily, radiating a comforting sound. Part of the stream was diverted around a larger outcropping, breaking the falls into two, around a cluster of fern and gorse. An ivy-covered shrine dedicated to Our Lady sat at the head of the falls, but there was a wooden deck built lower in the grotto that permitted visitors to come and throw coins into the water. Tarnished coins sparkled in the depths.