by Jeff Wheeler
BOOKS BY JEFF WHEELER
The Kingfountain Series
The Maid’s War (prequel)
The Queen’s Poisoner
The Thief’s Daughter
The King’s Traitor
The Hollow Crown
The Covenant of Muirwood Trilogy
The Banished of Muirwood
The Ciphers of Muirwood
The Void of Muirwood
The Lost Abbey (novella)
The Legends of Muirwood Trilogy
The Wretched of Muirwood
The Blight of Muirwood
The Scourge of Muirwood
Whispers from Mirrowen Trilogy
Fireblood
Dryad-Born
Poisonwell
Landmoor Series
Landmoor
Silverkin
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2017 by Jeff Wheeler
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by 47North, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and 47North are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781503943964
ISBN-10: 1503943968
Cover design by Shasti O’Leary Soudant
To Kenzie
CONTENTS
START READING
CHARACTERS
PROLOGUE The Fall of Callait
Life teaches us. . .
PART I Wizr
CHAPTER ONE The Royal Wedding
CHAPTER TWO Coronation
CHAPTER THREE The Ring Table
CHAPTER FOUR The Vision
I have been. . .
CHAPTER FIVE Prince of Brugia
CHAPTER SIX The Gauntlet
CHAPTER SEVEN Farewell Flowers
PART II Knight
Where there is. . .
CHAPTER EIGHT Ley Lines
CHAPTER NINE Oath Maidens
CHAPTER TEN The Wizr’s Oath
CHAPTER ELEVEN The Broken Ones
CHAPTER TWELVE Brugia
Revenge is drinking. . .
CHAPTER THIRTEEN Dragan
CHAPTER FOURTEEN The King’s Poisoner
CHAPTER FIFTEEN Spurned
CHAPTER SIXTEEN The Gauntlet
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN The Wizr of Chandigarl
Ordinary people have. . .
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN The Flooding of Kingfountain
CHAPTER NINETEEN Broken Friendship
PART III Lady
The young are. . .
CHAPTER TWENTY Toy Soldiers
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE Lady of Averanche
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Impossible
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE The Sanctuary at St. Denys
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR Troubled Waters
We are always. . .
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE The Ring of the Grove
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Siege of Guilme
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN Fog of War
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT Lord Gahalatine
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE Broken
CHAPTER THIRTY Unrequited
Sometimes we put. . .
EPILOGUE The Hidden Vulgate
AUTHOR’S NOTE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHARACTERS
MONARCHIES
Ceredigion: Drew (House of Argentine): The young ruler of Ceredigion has been on the throne for eight years since the Fountain chose him to lead his kingdom. With the guidance of his capable counselors, including the Wizr Myrddin and Lord Protector Owen Kiskaddon, he has increased the dominion and influence of the court of Kingfountain.
Brythonica and Westmarch: Owen and Sinia (Houses of Kiskaddon and Montfort): This couple rules two duchies, which combine to be the largest of the realm. They rule from Ploemeur and have one child, a daughter named Tryneowy Kiskaddon, who goes by the nickname Trynne. After experiencing the anguish of a stillborn child, they are expecting another baby.
North Cumbria and Atabyrion: Iago IV (House of Llewellyn): Atabyrion continues to be the chief ally of Ceredigion. Iago pays homage to King Drew for the rights of North Cumbria and has played a strong military role in all of the larger kingdom’s conflicts. Iago and Evie have four children, the eldest being their daughter Genevieve, whom many expect to be the future queen of Ceredigion. Their second oldest, Iago Fallon, is the heir apparent and was sent to Ploemeur under wardship to be trained by Lord Owen.
Occitania: Chatriyon IX (House of Vertus): Occitania is now a tributary duchy of Ceredigion, ruled by the boy duke Chatriyon under the guidance of his mother, Queen Dowager Elyse. The treaty of peace signed two years previously has brought a much-needed cessation to hostilities between the opposing realms, allowing both realms to unite under the banner of the Argentines.
Brugia: Maxwell (House of Asturias): Through an alliance with Legault, Duke Maxwell has fomented intrigue after intrigue in an attempt to discredit and undermine Ceredigion. His realm is the last of the regions once held by King Andrew, the ancient ruler of Kingfountain, that has not sworn fealty to King Drew. His attempts to assassinate the young king have all been prevented. The Espion has reported that Brugia is gathering together an army of mercenaries. A reckoning between the two rulers seems inevitable. Maxwell has a single heir, the young boy Elwis.
LORDS OF CEREDIGION
Owen Kiskaddon: Duke of Westmarch and Brythonica, Lord Protector of Ceredigion
Iago Llewellyn: Duke of North Cumbria
Halldur Ramey: Duke of East Stowe
FitzHugh Lovel: Duke of Southport
Lord Kevan Amrein: Lord Chancellor of Ceredigion, master of the Espion
Severn Argentine: Duke of Glosstyr
PROLOGUE
The Fall of Callait
Trynne stared fixedly at the Wizr board, sensing her father was about to defeat her but unsure of how. She glanced up from the beautiful pieces and saw his smug smile, which made her even more determined to prevent it. Her hand was poised over a knight, her favorite piece, but wouldn’t Father expect her to use her favorite? The Wizr set was a gift he had received from the old king Severn when her father was a child hostage at Kingfountain. Owen had been trained in the game by Ankarette Tryneowy, Trynne’s namesake and the woman who had saved her father’s life when he was a child. She loved hearing stories about her father’s past. She never grew tired of it.
She hated losing Wizr.
“I swear, Trynne,” Fallon said with an exaggerated yawn, “if it takes you any longer to move, the pieces will actually grow moss.” He was only three years older than her, but he acted as if he were a man grown. “Just move there and get it over with,” he added, pointing to one of the squares.
“Did I ask for your counsel, Fallon?” she said in frustration. She began grinding her teeth. “You can’t beat Father either.”
“But it’s taking so long.” Fallon sighed melodramatically. “Let’s go down to the city for a pie.”
“You just ate,” Trynne said, turning her gaze to him. The boy had inherited a full dose of his parents’ impetuosity, a roguish grin, and a twinkle in his gray-green eyes that she found fascinating—not that she would ever say so out loud. Their families had been friends for longer than she c
ould remember. Her father and his mother had once intended to marry, but circumstances had thwarted their union. They remained close friends. Fallon had been sent to live with the Kiskaddons for several years so he could learn the skills of leadership and the ways of other lands—knowledge he would need before inheriting his titles.
“The sooner you move, the sooner Lord Owen will beat you. Then we can go somewhere more interesting,” he quipped.
“I’m not done with the game yet,” she said stubbornly. She enjoyed roaming Ploemeur with Fallon, but she also hated letting her father win Wizr without working for it. “Go fetch a pie, then. I don’t care.”
Fallon sighed and raked his fingers through his thick dark hair. He blew out his cheeks and started pacing again, giving her one of his impatient looks that said Hurry up, Trynne. Well, let him fuss. She didn’t want to be rushed. At seven years old, she could defeat almost everyone in the palace at Wizr except her own parents and the Wizr master they had hired to teach her. She pressed herself every day to get better, secretly hoping not just to defeat her father, but also to feel evidence that she was Fountain-blessed herself. Both of her parents had the gift, after all. Her father was a knight in service to King Drew, and her mother was one of two Wizrs who also served King Drew. Trynne hungered to follow in her father’s footsteps.
Of all the pieces on the Wizr board, it was the knight that intrigued her the most. Even though it was not the most powerful piece, it was the most capable of defeating the Wizr piece. Its hooklike pattern of movement allowed it to get places other pieces could not, and it could be used in sneak attacks. She loved the look of the piece so much that she would have preferred a horse’s head sigil to her father’s badge, the heads of three antlered bucks, or her mother’s, the Raven.
Suddenly, everything snapped into place in her mind, and Trynne recognized the move her father was about to make. She blinked in surprise. Why hadn’t she seen it before? She suddenly moved her hand away from the knight and then countered his upcoming move with her deconeus. Her eyes flashed with triumph as she looked up at him.
“Well done, Trynne,” he said approvingly. He was very patient with her, even though he was an inordinately busy man. His duties often called him away to Kingfountain or other portions of the expanding realm. He was the king’s most trusted emissary, and Trynne admired him for the way he honored that trust.
“That means this is going to take even longer, doesn’t it?” Fallon said, depressed.
“I’m afraid so,” Owen replied with an honest chuckle. “Unless you want to forfeit now?”
“Never,” Trynne said obstinately. “Go on and get your pie, Fallon. We’ll probably be done by the time you get back to the castle.”
He wore a dagger on his belt—he was ten after all—and closed his fist around it. “Do you want me to bring you one, Trynne?”
“Blueberry,” she answered, not taking her eyes off the board. She was calculating all the possible moves her father might make.
“I don’t like blueberries,” he said with a sniff.
“Get whatever berry you want, then,” she chided, watching eagerly to see what her father would do next.
“I like apples,” he said.
“They have apple tarts at Madame Fisk’s,” she said absently.
“Where is that?”
“Two streets past Grenuin,” she answered. She could walk Ploemeur blindfolded without losing her way.
“You wanted raspberry, right?”
“Fallon!” Trynne sighed with exasperation.
“He’s just goading you,” Owen said with a laugh. They could both hear Fallon chuckle as he sauntered away. Her father’s next move countered her threat with one of his own. She was about to respond quickly, but she paused again, tapping her finger on her lips, trying to see if there was another way. Her father was always adept at finding solutions no one else would consider—a quality she wished to share.
Not long afterward, Trynne’s mother, Sinia, came into the solar with a guest. Trynne glanced up and recognized the newcomer as Lord Amrein, master of the Espion. The game was halted immediately. Trynne’s eyes shot to the little white patch amidst her father’s dark hair, which she adored. It was the mark he had earned when Ankarette saved his life all those years ago.
“That you are even here does not bode well, Kevan,” Owen said simply as he rose from the stuffed chair opposite Trynne. His frown deepened the wrinkles around his eyes; he expected bad news. “I take it that Brugia has besieged Callait at long last.”
The master of the Espion smiled and shook his head. “It never ceases to amaze me how you know things before you’ve been told. Am I to assume that Lady Sinia had a vision?” He glanced at Trynne’s mother expectantly.
Sinia nodded, her gaze guarded and thoughtful. “The king sent you to bring Owen to Kingfountain.”
“Indeed, my lady. The matter is most urgent. King Maxwell has hit Callait with his largest force and blockaded the city with his fleet.”
“That’s bold of him,” Owen said flatly. He sounded neither surprised nor worried. Trynne knew that no man could best her father in battle. There was no doubt of what the outcome would be.
“Bold, stupid, call it what you will,” the Espion master said with a shrug. “The king would like you to advise him. I came by boat, which is the fastest transportation I can muster, but with your lady’s help, you can be at Kingfountain this evening.”
Owen glanced at his wife a moment. Her hand covered her swollen belly protectively. The two exchanged a glance that was private and serious. Trynne didn’t understand it, but she was excited by the prospect of war. Her father had managed to subdue all of King Drew’s enemies through his tactics and cleverness. Now, it would seem that it was King Maxwell’s turn to fall into line.
“Can I come with you, Father?” Trynne pleaded. She loved visiting Kingfountain.
He glanced down at her, his raised eyebrows showing he was surprised by her question, and perhaps a little annoyed. “No, Trynne. You’re only seven. You need to stay in Ploemeur.”
She understood why she had to stay, but it frustrated her. There was an ancient magic that held the Deep Fathoms at bay and kept them from sweeping over the duchy of Brythonica. The invocations needed to be renewed regularly, and by someone from Trynne’s lineage. Since Sinia and Owen didn’t know how long they’d be away, Trynne would have to stay behind to manage the defenses of the borders of Brythonica. It was an important job, but she chafed at the thought of being trapped in Ploemeur.
Trynne hungered to see the rest of the world, which she had only learned about by stories from her father. She wanted to see the giant waterfalls of Dundrennan. She longed to visit Fallon’s homeland, Atabyrion, and visit Wizr Falls. She’d been to Pree when the treaty was signed, but she could remember only snatches of the journey. Her mother’s magic as a Wizr made it possible to cross great distances. But that same magic bound her to Ploemeur so she could keep the boundaries that had been set by ancient Wizrs long dead and gone.
The adults were talking again, not including her, and Trynne wished she had gone with Fallon to fetch treats from the city. But while she wouldn’t be able to finish the game anyway, at least she’d be able to see her parents off. Within the hour, she followed them to the bubbling fountain inside the chapel of the palace. From that fountain, Sinia could transport them to any of the major fountains along the linked paths binding the kingdoms’ cities together. She listened in on their adult conversation for a while, grew bored, and then walked around the edge of the fountain, running her hand along the smooth stone. There were flecks of wetness from the constant splashes of the waters. Her father had donned his hauberk and war tunic. He’d strapped his sword over both, and she noticed the raven-marked scabbard that was so special to him. A relic of the Fountain, it healed the wearer, and her father claimed it had saved his life more than once. She was relieved to see him wearing it. Her parents clasped hands and gestured for her to come.
“Try not to
argue too much with Fallon,” Sinia said gently.
“I’ll try, but he really can be difficult sometimes,” she said sincerely, making both of her parents laugh for reasons she couldn’t understand.
Her father ran his fingers through her dark, curly hair. Trynne liked her hair color, even though its mouse-brown tint wasn’t as fashionable as her mother’s golden locks. She rarely fussed over her hair as girls were supposed to, but she privately enjoyed the way it linked her to the Kiskaddons. For while the people of Ploemeur doted on her, which she enjoyed, it was her father’s approval she sought most. He teased some of her curls, then knelt down and kissed her cheek. She kissed his cheek in return, the stubble tickling her lips.
“I’ll miss you, Papa,” she said, squeezing him tightly. Her mother bent more awkwardly with her swollen abdomen, and pressed a kiss into her hair.
“Will you stay long, Maman?” Trynne asked, hugging her in return.
“I don’t think so. You will be in charge while we are gone.”
Trynne beamed. It was disappointing they were leaving without her, but it was heartening to know they trusted her. A mist rose up from the water, and when it receded, they both were gone.
Trynne went back to the solar to search for Fallon, but he wasn’t back yet. Lord Amrein had taken a seat at the table and was savoring a meal one of the servants had brought him in her absence. She studied the Wizr board for a while, thought about a move that would counter her father’s, and then shifted the piece. They’d have to wait until he returned to continue the game.
Feeling restless, she went back to her room to read while awaiting word of Fallon’s return. The corridor was empty and had a strange, lonely feel to it, like the loss of candles in a dimly lit room. It was because her parents were both gone. She brushed her hand along the wainscoting, trying to decide on which book she wanted to read. It was nearly sunset and the servants were starting to light the torches set in the wall sconces.
She opened the handle to her room and walked inside. Her enormous bed with the large wooden posts draped with silky cream-colored curtains greeted her. There was a fire in the hearth, and she savored its warmth as she walked to the balcony ledge and stared down at Ploemeur, wondering where Fallon was at that moment.