“It will be done,” Samrao said with a hasty bow. The palace staff moved like a hive of disturbed ants, running to and fro in confusion. Sunilik paced on the veranda, gazing at the darkening mountain as it disappeared into blackness.
“I have little hope in this affair,” the king confided to Trynne. “No other ruler has withstood the Lord of the Distant Isles, save one.” He gave her a knowing look. “Your king.”
Trynne shook her head. “We did not withstand him well,” she answered. “The greater part of our army was wounded or slain. If you could have seen the field—” She stopped herself abruptly, not wanting to say more.
He looked at her from beneath lowered brows. “You speak as if you were there, my lady.”
It had been an unintentional slip. Only her queen knew that she was the Painted Knight, the soldier who had joined Kingfountain’s army in the Battle of Guilme to help protect the king. She did not wish to lie to King Sunilik, but she did not feel ready to impart the full truth either.
His eyes narrowed more and then he nodded. “Say no more, my lady. I will not pry secrets from you.”
A tall man wearing a bronze breastplate and gripping a curved broadsword strode up to King Sunilik. The man, who was not quite middle-aged, towered over the king. “Master, I’ve left but a small force guarding the fountain before the palace. You wish for the rear gardens to be defended?”
“Indeed,” Sunilik said. “See that your men are positioned along the upper and lower gardens.” Then he turned to Trynne. “What would you advise?”
Once again, his deference startled her. “When we were attacked by Gahalatine, we were startled to discover that his warriors could . . . fly. Perhaps that’s not the right word, but they could leap like insects and nearly hover in the air. Walls are not a protection.”
Sunilik’s eyes widened. “The Bhikhu. Then we have even less time than I feared.”
“The what?” Trynne asked.
Sunilik clenched his fists and started to pace. “I had heard rumors of his alliance with the Bhikhu. They have the power you speak of. When he was driven from Imperial City as a young man, they say he sought refuge among the Bhikhu. That he became the ruler of their distant isle. You must away, Lady Tryneowy. You cannot be found here. Where is Samrao?”
Trynne felt her anxiety increase. She had never heard of the Bhikhu before, but she’d seen Gahalatine’s men soar through the air. As she gazed back at the lights shining in the waters of the fountains, she noticed more of those strange tall trees again.
“My lord?” she asked, her eyes following one of the long trunks up into the sky. “Can your soldiers climb those trees?”
He turned and looked at her, then shot his captain a look. “Captain Ashok?”
The tall commander frowned. “Everyone can. We’ve all climbed the palm trees since we were children.”
Sunilik smiled broadly. “Indeed. You are suggesting we hide soldiers amidst the fronds—”
“With bows or something else so they can strike from a distance,” Trynne finished for him.
“Captain Ashok, see it done,” Sunilik said.
Moments later, Samrao appeared in the doorway with a young woman dressed in the wrapped skirts and gauzy veils Trynne had seen the females in the palace wearing. This girl was dark skinned and dark haired, and elegant tattoos twined around her hands and forearms.
“Piya!” the girl cried out, rushing up to Sunilik and embracing him.
He clutched his daughter tightly, his brow furrowing into wrinkles of worry. “Sureya, this is Tryneowy Kiskaddon. You must go with her. Gahalatine is coming this very night.”
“But how can I leave you, Piya?” the girl said with raw emotion. “I will stand with you. What happens to you will happen to me!”
Sunilik looked to be in great pain. He cupped his daughter’s cheek, half-hidden by the veil. “I will bear what happens to Chandleer much better if I know you are safe. We must hurry, my daughter.”
The girl was distraught, but Trynne could tell she was mustering her courage. She pulled away from her father, stood silently for a moment, and then nodded. “I will obey you, Piya. Though I would rather stay.”
“You must go, child,” Sunilik said. “Samrao, let us go to the fountain. Captain Ashok—see to the defenses.”
“Yes, Master.”
They walked briskly through the doors into the palace. Servants were hurrying from room to room, and soldiers wearing turbans and carrying shields on their backs jogged through the visitors’ hall in columns from the front of the palace. The squawks of strange, colorful birds added to the confusion. Trynne was anxious to be gone.