The Hollow Crown (The Kingfountain Series Book 4)

by Jeff Wheeler

  Only the Wizr, the king and his new queen, Trynne’s family, Fallon’s parents—though Fallon had balked at leaving—and Lord Amrein remained in the chamber. Trynne decided it would be presumptuous to assume she was invited too, so she took Gannon’s hand and prepared to leave. Her father held up his hand, forestalling her.

  The king’s brow was furrowed as he paced the room, tapping his lip with a finger and glancing at the others with vexation. “You bring ill tidings on my wedding day, Myrddin,” he said in a serious tone. The couples had all gathered around each other.

  “I know, lad. I know,” the Wizr said, puffing out his chest and sighing. “Something has changed. The Wizr board is beginning to move again. You can feel the pieces raking, stone upon stone, can you not?”

  Trynne’s father coughed into his hand, drawing their gazes.

  “Lady Sinia,” the king said, turning toward her. “Your presence at court was unexpected. At first, I thought you had managed to come celebrate with us, but I can see by your visage that you have had a vision—and that it troubles you.”

  “Aye, my lord,” Trynne’s mother answered. She was still clinging to Owen’s hand.

  “Tell us,” Elysabeth said, her eyes shining with emotion. She sidled up near her husband, who also looked grave and concerned. They stood by one of the chairs at the massive table, his hand touching the back of it.

  Trynne’s parents exchanged a look, and then Owen looked back at the others. “I think we should tell them,” he said softly.

  Sinia quickly blinked away tears and brushed her hand across her eyes. “I did see a vision. I saw the horde that Myrddin spoke of. I have never seen an army of that size before. It was frightening in its power and immensity. A flood of men and shields and strange blades. I didn’t recognize the land from the vision. It was . . . unfamiliar to me, not any place I have seen or visited. We were outnumbered. I saw you there, Your Highness. I saw many there.” She looked at Iago and then at Lord Amrein. “I saw my husband leading our army.” Her voice became thick. “The battle was terrible to behold. I saw myself at Kingfountain with the queen. Owen didn’t come home after the battle. I saw grief and fear.” She covered her face, but it could not mask her misery.

  A stunned silence hung in the room. They were all looking at Sinia, even Trynne, her heart shuddering with violence. The premonition she had experienced during Myrddin’s speech rang in her ears.

  You will sit there also, Tryneowy Kiskaddon. Tell no one.

  She stared at the chair called the Siege Perilous and a feeling of fear and misery struck her.

  “These are ill tidings indeed,” the king whispered hoarsely. Trynne knew he loved her father with all the devotion of a son. It was Owen’s advice and counsel the king always sought first. Trynne’s father’s skill in diplomacy and war had expanded Ceredigion’s dominion. The thought of another man defeating him in battle was absurd.

  “Can nothing be done?” Elysabeth said with tears in her eyes and a catch in her voice. “Do all your visions surely come to pass, Sinia?”

  She nodded miserably. “I have not seen all the future,” she said. “But I saw myself alone, raising our son.” Her hand reached down and stroked little Gannon’s fair hair. The lad looked up at his mother, confused by the adults’ conversation and the sudden ill wind that had swept the gathering.

  The king began to pace. “Word of this cannot leave this room,” he said firmly. He shot an agonized glance at Owen. “If we are to face such dangers, we need to muster our people’s courage and not their fear. Your visions have all come to pass to our favor, my lady. While I grieve for myself, I cannot imagine the pain you feel. Thank you for coming straightaway. A king must often hear bad tidings. The taste may be bitter, but sometimes the cup we must drink is bitter.”

  King Drew shook his head, continuing to pace. “Myrddin, what counsel would you give me? What should we do to prepare for such an invasion?”

  The Wizr glanced at his king, his eyebrows knitting together. “The gates of history swing on small hinges,” he said. “I know of this tale. It has happened aforetime. But the past does not always repeat in the same way. Things were different then . . .” His words filled Trynne with confusion, but she’d learned that sometimes it was best to wait for Myrddin to explain himself. The Wizr started to walk around the circumference of the table and began tapping the chairs one by one with the knobbed end of his staff. “There is some time ere this vision is fulfilled,” he finally said. “The Fountain is giving us time to prepare, if we will. You must raise a generation of warriors, my lord, if you know a fight will press on you. If a prophecy of a drought were to come, then storing food is what I would counsel.” He smiled grimly. “Alack, many of our young men will see battle before they come of age.” He looked shrewdly at Iago and Lady Evie, and Trynne felt her heart shudder with worry for Fallon. “The difference in the tide of battle may be shifted because of the efforts of one person.”

  As he said the words, he shot a knowing look at Trynne, and it kindled inside her heart a determination to thwart her father’s destiny. A rebellious flame began to dance within her skin. She had always thought it unfair that women were not allowed to become knights of the realm. And yet one girl had—a young woman from the Occitanian village of Donremy. As Trynne thought on the legend of the Fountain-blessed girl, she felt a ripple of approval from the Fountain.

  She made two decisions at that moment. Two decisions she wouldn’t tell to a single soul.

  Trynne would do everything within her power to be at that battle. And she was going to save her father’s life.

  After the meeting was concluded, Lord Amrein was sent away to gather information from the Espion about the possible threats to the realm. The Espion was in charge of warning the kingdom in advance. Iago and Lady Evie left to find their older son and younger children, but they were commanded not to share with him what had been spoken. The king himself charged Trynne to keep the secret, even though it would be an awful burden on her. She promised that she would. Her parents offered some comfort to each other, but her mother wanted to return to Ploemeur at once. The legends were well known, and Sinia’s people became anxious whenever she and her family were gone, even if it was only for a short while. Owen promised he would be ready to return home in two days’ time, and they arranged to meet by one of the castle’s fountains so she could transport them home. Two days was not enough time in Trynne’s mind.

  She found herself roaming the halls of Kingfountain, lost in thought, mulling over the decisions she had made. While the magic of the Fountain was powerful, it did not prevent all disasters from unfolding. If it was the Fountain’s will to reclaim a person to the Deep Fathoms, no amount of magic could bring that person back. The stillborn birth of her sibling proved that. To go against the Fountain’s will was to follow a path leading to destruction. The power of water was unpredictable at times. It had to be respected and handled with wisdom.

  So, how could she save her father?

  She heard the noise of boots clipping at a jog.

  “What happened in the great hall?” Fallon huffed as he drew up beside her, out of breath from running. “My parents won’t tell me! You were there, weren’t you?”

  She was not in the mood to deal with his playful banter, though she yearned to tell someone the secrets that burdened her. “The king commanded us to keep it secret,” she said.

  Fallon’s eyes grew wide with wonder before his features tilted into a frown. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t tell me.”

  “That’s exactly what it means,” she said in exasperation.

  “Very well, you can’t say, but if I guess . . . you could give me a wink or something.” He wagged his eyebrows at her. “This is literally torturing me. My parents always tell me what’s happening. This is the first time they’ve refused.”

  “I suppose that means they are honorable and value their integrity. As do I, Iago Fallon Llewellyn. The king commanded it. I’m not going to tell.”

&nbs
p; “Trynne . . .” he said pleadingly.

  “Enough, Fallon! I’m still angry at you for the crepe you put on my back.”

  “That was just a little fun,” he said, waving off her glower.

  “It would have been mortifying to go into the great hall with it clinging to me still. Which was exactly why you did it. Why do you delight in tormenting me?”

  “Because it’s so easy!” he said in feigned shock. “You take yourself so seriously—”

  “And you aren’t serious enough. Even when we were children, you could hardly sit still. You were always getting into trouble.”

  “Might I remind you that it was your idea to steal the treacle pot and hide it in the bushes?” he said. “How many insects did we eat before we realized that treacle isn’t supposed to be so crunchy?”

  “Stop!” Trynne said, waving her hands and shuddering in disgust. “I don’t even like remembering that happened and you keep recollecting that silly—”

  Abruptly Fallon grabbed her shoulder and stopped her from walking. His voice pitched lower. “If I had a secret like that, I would tell you, Tryneowy Kiskaddon, because I trust you. We’ve known each other since we were children. You would never betray me. And I would never betray you. Our parents are old. Their duty binds them. But surely you can see it’s not fair for you to know something that I don’t.”

  The weight of his hand on her shoulder sent a peculiar rush of warmth through her. He hated being left out of a joke or a jest. Yes, the secret was torturing him. But it wasn’t torturing him nearly as much as it was tormenting her.

  Her heart felt like bursting. “I can’t, Fallon. And neither would you if the king commanded you not to. I know you well enough.”

  He let go of her shoulder and raked his fingers through his unruly dark hair. He was put out and the sour twist of his lips made him look like he’d bitten into a lemon rind. “It’s not fair,” he muttered.

  “Life isn’t fair,” she shot back, pointing to her mouth. She was angry, and that feeling helped soothe the pain in her heart. When she started walking again, she hoped that he would follow her, that he’d say something to make her feel better about her slack cheek and unresponsive lip. That he still found her pretty, even though she’d seen herself in the mirror that morning and knew she wasn’t.

  He didn’t follow her.

  The interior of Kingfountain’s palace was a giant circle around a verdant interior garden with bubbling fountains in the exact center. Trynne had always loved to roam the main corridor, admiring the suits of armor, the polished floors, the rich legacy sewn into tapestries and other decorations, and the familiar smell of pine and pitch. The palace had been built centuries ago and she wondered how many daughters of Westmarch had walked the same aisles. She knew about the secret corridors honeycombing the walls and recognized which decorative panels led to them and which did not. At her insistence, her father had shown them to her when she was little. She’d wanted to visit every room, hallway, and tunnel that had been part of his life while he was the old king’s hostage. Since she was not part of the Espion, she wasn’t allowed to use the passageways, but she did remember where they were.

  As she passed one of the arches leading to an upward stairwell, she heard whispered voices coming from the interior. She peered into the shadows and saw two people half hidden in the gloom.

  Trynne slowed her steps, trying to place the familiar voices.

  Suddenly the sound of bootfalls met her ears and Prince Elwis strode down the steps and appeared in the hall. He looked vicious, and his eyes flashed with rage when he saw her. “What are you standing there for, Kiskaddon?” he snarled.

  Trynne was startled to see him and even more startled by the vehemence of their introduction. They had never spoken together before, yet he obviously knew who she was and hated her for it. Blood began to pound in her ears as her heart raced.

  “I heard voices. I was just looking,” she answered, feeling a little flush stain her cheeks.

  “Or you were spying on me,” he replied in a challenging voice. He was looking at her face, and his lips curled with revulsion. “It is true. You are ugly.” Then he glanced behind her, probably at Captain Staeli, who was never far away, turned on his heel, and strode away quickly as shock and pain ripped open the old wounds inside her. She stood there mutely, her mind unable to develop a retort out of the shock of his deliberate insult.

  Morwenna appeared in the arched stairway from which the prince had emerged. The girl was chafing her wrist and gazing down the corridor at the malcontent. She then turned to Trynne and said, “I’m glad you came when you did. Thank you.”

  Trynne felt like a fish yanked from the waters and passed from one fisherman to another. Why wouldn’t her mouth work?

  “I’m . . . I’m sorry,” Trynne said haltingly, her cheeks still flaming. “It’s just . . . I hadn’t expected him to be so rude.”

  Morwenna smiled at that comment, a lovely smile that made Trynne ache with jealousy. She hooked arms with Trynne, and they started walking the other way by silent agreement. “He is ill-mannered.” Morwenna glanced back at Elwis, who had nearly reached the end of the hall. “His father wants him to marry me. I think he’s used to getting what he wants.”

  “To marry you?” Trynne said with disgust. “He’s eighteen and we’re only . . .”

  “Exactly,” Morwenna said with a nod. “A plight troth will do. But my blood-brother, the king, is too wise by far.” She gave Trynne a kindly smile. “As is your father. It doesn’t take a Wizr to foresee the trouble such a marriage would cause, now does it?” After a pause, she continued. “Yes, I’m grateful you arrived when you did. It was becoming more . . . unpleasant by the moment. Men tend to . . . overestimate their finer qualities. Especially rich, spoiled young men.”

  It made Trynne think of Fallon, and her mouth tugged into a smile of agreement. Self-conscious, she forced it to go flat.

  “Can I ask you something, Tryneowy?” Morwenna asked.

  Trynne looked up and noticed Captain Staeli leaning against the corridor wall, arms folded, his eyes following the fleeing prince. His face looked neutral, but Trynne knew him enough to recognize his subtle frown and the narrowing of his eyes. Morwenna glanced at him as they walked by.

  “Of course you can,” Trynne answered, patting the other girl’s arm.

  “What happened to you as a child?” Morwenna asked. “I’ve heard rumors you were attacked. Is that true?”

  Trynne, who was tired of being the object of others’ pity, sighed.

  “This makes you uncomfortable,” Morwenna apologized. “I’m sorry I asked. I’m not a gossip. It’s just . . . I hear so little . . . from Glosstyr.” She sighed herself.

  “Why don’t you come live at court, then?” Trynne asked.

  Morwenna shook her head and laughed in a self-deprecating way. “That is rather complicated. I know I am welcome, of course. My mother insists as much every time I see her. She only lives in Glosstyr for certain seasons of the year. Some like to gossip that even she cannot stand my father, but that’s not true. But he is so lonely when she is gone. And I will be leaving him soon. I wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. Before I go.”

  Trynne looked at her in surprise. “Are you going to stay in another household?”

  Morwenna patted her arm. “It’s not like that,” she answered. She looked back at Captain Staeli and pitched her voice even lower. “How can you bear having the Espion crawling around you all the time? It would drive me mad.” She leaned closer. “I will tell you. Your father already knows, but he may not have shared it. I’m going to Pisan.” There was a gleam in her silver eyes. “I’m going there to train to become my brother’s poisoner. The thought of being a lady of court has never interested me. I want to know how to fight. How to disable a man like Elwis with a twist of the wrist or a little potion. I’m not content to sit out my days in the parks and gardens or doing needlework. I belong in the shadows. I’ll be gone from court for years. But
I just wanted someone . . . someone to know where I was while I’m away.”

  “And my father approved of this?” Trynne asked. She was desperate to talk with him about it.

  Morwenna nodded, flashing another lovely smile. “It was his idea.”

  I have been an observer of humanity. Most men are petty, base, and cruel. Most women are fickle, proud, and cunning. Nearly all are shortsighted and tend to view happiness as a crumb worth hoarding. There are a few, however, who stick to a goal and pursue it regardless of obstacles. They are fired with ambition to achieve something at all costs. From the deepest desires often come the deadliest hate and the profoundest love.

  Myrddin

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Prince of Brugia

  Although the day had felt as if it would stretch on forever, it ended like all days do. Trynne watched the final rays of sun disappear over the eastern hills as the shadows stretched in slices along the courtyard walls. From the window in the solar, she had a view of the gorgeous sunset, but her heart could find little beauty in it. Her father was going to die.

  She listened to him speak to Lord Amrein in furtive tones and watched the spymaster’s reflection on the glass of the window. The chancellor was crestfallen, his eyes burdened by the knowledge from that day. The castle had been noisy with the wedding and the news of the Ring Table and the looming threat. But only a handful knew about Sinia’s vision. Already they were mourning. Trynne chewed on her lip, willing herself to find a way to overturn the calamity.

  “Sinia returned earlier this afternoon,” Owen said with a hollowness in his voice, sitting back in his chair. He was brooding. “I don’t imagine what news you will find in just a few days, Kevan, but do your best. Send me word at Ploemeur.”

  “I will,” the other man answered. Then he dropped his hand onto Owen’s shoulder and the two friends locked eyes. What passed between them wasn’t spoken aloud, but it was powerful. Trynne knew the story of how Lord Amrein had saved her father’s life after Owen had committed treason against King Severn. There was trust between the men that had held fast over time.