Trynne felt as if her broken heart had been wrenched from her chest. “What happened to Iago?” she pressed.
“He was taken aboard one of the treasure ships. There is a governor of Edonburick now, assigned by the emperor. He has brought gifts—more like bribes—to pay off the nobles. Some fled and returned to their own lands. With Iago and Elysabeth gone, only Fallon has a chance to rally any defense for Atabyrion. But he’s still at Kingfountain.” She reached out and touched Trynne’s shoulder. “He was chosen, you know. He’s the king’s champion.”
The Gauntlet had been the furthest thing from Trynne’s mind. So Fallon had won after all?
“I’m glad for him,” Trynne said, her feelings still very conflicted.
“Yes, there was hope that someone else would compete. You know the people keep talking about the Painted Knight.” She gave Trynne a conspiratorial smile. “They were surprised he didn’t come to Kingfountain.”
Did Morwenna know? Trynne kept her expression guarded, but suspicion writhed inside her like a nest of snakes. Had Fallon told Morwenna?
“I had not heard the latest news. Thank you.”
Morwenna looked around at the rubble. “When I arrived, I was surprised to hear that you were not also captured. They must have sent someone to take you?” Her tone urged Trynne to confide all her secrets.
“Yes, and they learned that Brythonica was not as helpless as they had supposed. We were not easy prey.”
Morwenna looked startled. “I am impressed, Trynne. The king will wish to hear of your success from your own mouth. Shall we go now?”
Trynne had the feeling that Morwenna was more surprised than she was letting on. Despite the bonds of the past, she felt more wary of her than ever. Severn’s daughter was a dangerous person, a Wizr in her own right, and Trynne’s own stores of magic were perilously depleted. If Morwenna’s loyalties lay elsewhere, she would be walking into danger if she left with her.
“I will come shortly,” Trynne said, deciding to trust her instincts. “Please tell the king and queen that I am safe. Ploemeur is unconquered, and our navy is still intact. There is other news I must bring them as well.” Trynne wasn’t going to share what she had learned with Morwenna. Nor was she going to tell her that Rucrius was being held in the dungeon.
Morwenna looked at her eagerly, her eyes wide with interest.
Trynne patted her arm. “Thank you. Tell Fallon that I’m sorry about his parents. He must be very worried.”
“I will,” Morwenna said, unable to hide the disappointment in her voice.
It was nearly midnight and the fire burned low in the hearth. Trynne sat on one of the couches in her bedchamber, her legs tucked beneath her. She still hadn’t changed out of her gown, and it was tattered and filthy from the events of the day and preceding night. Weariness had made her nod off, the Tay al-Ard still clutched in her hand. She had examined it, trying to understand how it worked and the magic that had formed it. If only she had her mother’s memory. No doubt there was some ancient legend divulging the history of these magical devices. She brushed some hair behind her ear and chewed on her lip, deep in thought.
An idea had been simmering in her mind since Morwenna had returned to Kingfountain. She was so tired, she wasn’t sure her plan was particularly wise. She tapped the cylinder against her palm. When Gahalatine thought someone was useful to him, he took that person directly to the Forbidden Court. He had done so with King Sunilik. The Wizr who had brought him to Chandigarl had used the Tay al-Ard to do so. It sounded like Queen Elysabeth had been moved the same way, to the same city. That meant Gahalatine respected her and thought she might prove useful to him. Iago had been put on board a ship, which meant he was of little value to the emperor. Gahalatine had also sent three Wizrs to Ploemeur to capture Trynne. Perhaps they’d feared Sinia would return to defend her ancient duchy. Or maybe they’d feared Trynne.
She pinched the bridge of her nose to try to stay awake. She’d never felt so tired and spent. Hundreds had perished in the attack on Ploemeur. But most of the deaths had been among the invaders, who were now stranded in Brythonica. The Chandigarli leaders she had spoken to throughout the day had been humbled by her mercy and generosity. They didn’t see Trynne as an enemy. They had set sail for Kingfountain under the impression it was a benighted realm with corrupt leadership. That the people were living in misery.
They saw for themselves that it was not true of Brythonica. Was Gahalatine just as misguided? Or could he have knowingly given his people a false pretext for the invasion?