One of the reasons she wanted to be at Kingfountain was to confront Fallon, to demand to know why he had spied on the sacred grove of Brythonica. After Captain Staeli had told her of their encounter, she had traveled to the grove through the ley lines. The silver dish, which she’d feared would be missing, was chained to the marble slab. The stone table was littered with detritus from the oak tree. She had searched the entire grove, including the cave set into the boulders where Myrddin had been trapped for centuries. But there was no evidence that either Fallon or Carrick had removed anything. Still, the intrusion had once again damaged her confidence in him.
She had since received letters of condolence from the king and queen, written personally by them and not by scribes. She recognized their handwriting and appreciated the comforting words. There was also a note from Morwenna, expressing her deepest sympathies and shared grief. She wrote about how fond she’d always been of the little one and how she knew Trynne must be suffering.
Gazing out the window, Trynne stared at the wall of sea fog out in the harbor past the beach of sea glass. This was not unusual in Brythonica. The rich sea mists regularly flowed inland and helped provide moisture for the thriving plants in the fields. But something about it reminded her of the night her father had disappeared, the night of the Battle of Guilme, and a feeling of nervous agitation grew inside her. She sent for Thierry.
He arrived, looking wearied by his duties, and his face fell further, if that were possible, when he saw her nearly full plate. “My lady, you must eat!” he implored.
“I will, Thierry. I want you to make sure the night watch is vigilant tonight. It looks like there will be fog.”
Thierry nodded. “Fog is a good thing. The shores of Brythonica are deadly to seamen who are unfamiliar with them. If you get caught in the wrong tide, a ship will crash on the rocks.”
Trynne was not comforted by his words. “I have no doubt that our enemies have extensive maps of our coastline. They may have even gotten the tide schedules from the Genevese.”
“Genevar would never betray us!”
“Not willingly, perhaps. In the House of Pillars this morning, it was reported that no vessels from Genevar have landed in Ploemeur in the last two days. Did any arrive today?”
Thierry looked at her blankly. “I don’t know.”
“When you give the order for the night watch, please see if you can find out.”
“As you will, my lady. Please . . . eat some food.” He said it with a look of worried tenderness.
Trynne nodded, but she rose from the table as soon as he left and paced by the window, watching the wall of fog. It would mute a dazzling sunset. She went back and took a morsel of bread and slowly bit into it, forcing herself. Then she opened the balcony window and stepped out, feeling the chill of the sea breeze cut through her gown.
Had the Gauntlet been completed yet? Who had won? Part of her wanted Fallon to win the role he coveted so much. Part of her hoped one of the Oath Maidens like Mariette had claimed it instead, just to spite him. The sun was probably setting over Kingfountain at that very moment. Should she steal away through the ley lines just to find out the news?
A heavy, strangling feeling followed the thought. It felt wrong—very wrong. Trynne frowned, folding her arms and leaning against the door frame, and shivered.
And that was when she saw the first row of ships emerging in a line from the bank of fog.
The main hall of the palace in Ploemeur was thronged with people. The citizenry who lived down below were hunkered in their homes, doors bolted. They were all praying to Our Lady to save them from the invasion that had started on the very eve that King Drew had named his new champion.
Gahalatine was striking Brythonica first. As soon as the ships had been sighted, messengers had rushed eastward to deliver the ill tidings. It was up to Trynne to protect her people, and she felt frightened for them, for her realm, and for herself. Her battle captains had gathered, as well as the captain of the night watch. Her herald stood by listening. There were so many ships sailing toward them, Trynne suspected the first part of the battle would happen on the beaches. She was not going to sit still. As soon as the meeting was finished, she intended to garb herself in armor and fight for her duchy as the Painted Knight.
“My lady, our scouts have counted a massive squadron,” the navy commander said. “They are not concealing their approach. There are six treasure ships and over a hundred support vessels. They are coming en masse!”
“And why did we have no warning?” Trynne said angrily. “I thought our fleet had encircled the area to give us advance word?”