Trynne sighed and let the sword drop.
“Drew?” the king asked in surprise.
“Your Majesty!” the woodsman said with a chuff of surprise. “What are you doing here? You smell like the royal hog pens, my lord.”
The king let out a short laugh. “They say a pig is happiest in its own filth. I assure you, that is not my emotion. Where is Liona?”
The woodsman lowered the axe. “She’s abed. I awoke with a start and had a strong feeling that I needed to come to the paddock. It’s an ill omen, my lord. The grounds are too quiet. I heard some strange noises.”
“The castle is overrun,” Trynne said, shaking her head. “The Wizr Rucrius is impersonating the king.”
The snowy-haired woodsman shook his head angrily. “By what black art is he doing that? Are you escaping Kingfountain, then? I think the Fountain woke me to help you.”
Trynne felt certain it was true. She turned to the king. “We have to get away from the palace. There was a magic staff in the poisoner’s tower that made everyone fall asleep. I broke it before coming to you, so it cannot harm anyone now. It’s my belief that the Wizr was planning to harm or imprison you and then pretend to be you to disrupt our defenses. I don’t think Gahalatine would condone his actions.”
King Drew nodded in agreement. “Master Woodsman—we share the same name. Right now, you must act on my behalf. Find Lord Amrein of the Espion. Tell him that we’ve escaped and that there is an imposter in the palace. Tell him to rally our forces to Dundrennan. We will fight for Kingfountain from the North. Then get you and your wife to safety. Can I entrust you with this mission?”
The woodsman nodded sternly. “I will not fail you, my lord.”
“Thank you. I depend on it.”
They would away to Dundrennan, and Drew would send warriors to meet them. Lady Evie would try to bring Genevieve and the baby to the sanctuary of Our Lady. Trynne told herself that it would all work out as planned. She had to believe it.
The woodsman hefted his axe and returned to the garden. Trynne and the king emerged into the immaculate grounds. In her heart, Trynne believed Gahalatine was not part of the ploy. He intended to win his victory on the battlefield, not through trickery. But his own servants were actively plotting against him as well.
Together, Trynne and Drew hurried across the gardens. Trynne looked at the shadowy magnolia trees. The reminder of Fallon struck a bitter chord inside of her.
“Where is your protector?” Trynne asked. “Where is Fallon?”
“He’s still at the palace. I ordered him to summon his army and bring it to Kingfountain,” Drew said, shaking his head. “His messenger has probably just arrived at Dundrennan.”
Trynne sighed. She saw the fountain ahead. The waters were stilled at night, so there wasn’t the sound to guide her to it.
“I can’t thank you enough, Trynne. If you hadn’t returned when you did, all would have been lost. I can imagine someone like Rucrius pretending to be me.” His voice was swollen with anger and resentment. “Genevieve will see through the disguise if he tries to lure her out of Our Lady. He might pretend, but he cannot be me. Now I regret that we didn’t execute him the moment you arrived with him as your prisoner.”
“Wizrs are the most powerful piece on the board,” Trynne said. “Your Wizrs have always served you and the interests of Kingfountain. In Chandigarl, it is a different culture. Men like Rucrius feel they are above the king.”
Drew nodded. “I never felt that from Myrddin,” he said. “Or your mother. Or from you, for that matter. Do you think that my sister was part of this plot, Trynne? Do you think she was trying to dethrone me?”
“Yes, my lord,” Trynne said honestly. “Yes, I do think she is part of it.”
As they approached the quiet fountain, the panic she’d felt earlier began to subside. She had feared the waters would be guarded. Glancing around, she reached out with her magic, knowing full well that Rucrius would be able to feel her doing so. She wanted him to know she had escaped with the king. She wanted him to worry about what they would do next.
At the center of the fountain was a series of sculptures depicting scenes of the Deep Fathoms, including a representation of the Lady of the Fountain. As Trynne stared up at it, she wondered where her mother was at that moment. Was it dark where she was, or daybreak? A breeze washed the scent of the magnolias over her. Trynne closed her eyes and stepped over the edge of the railing. The king followed her, gazing back at the castle he was abandoning. His mouth was pressed into an angry frown. The sword Firebos dipped down toward the waters as he held it in a loose grip.