by Jeff Wheeler
This was no rare disease; it was magic. Trynne remembered how Elwis had taken Fallon’s ring during the last Gauntlet.
The two young lords looked as if they were about to murder each other.
“Well met, Prince Elwick,” Fallon said disdainfully. “That looks like a terrible rash. Did you forget to bathe?”
Elwis grabbed a fistful of Fallon’s tunic, his teeth bared like a wolf’s. “It won’t come off,” the prince said in a choking voice. “The ring is cursed. If I must slice off a finger to get rid of it, believe me, you will lose one as well.” His other hand tightened around a dagger on his belt.
Trynne shot up, the motion making her head spin with dizziness. “This is a sanctuary of Our Lady. Calm yourselves.”
Elwis looked at her and then did a double take in recognition.
“Prince Elwis, please,” she pressed. “Let him go. Let’s find another way.”
“It is his fault,” Elwis said. He was wearing a hooded cloak to partially conceal the disfigurement. “You better have a cure, Atabyrion braggart, or so help me I will spill blood in this sanctuary. I don’t care about the superstitions.”
“It’s my fault?” Fallon said with a bark-like chuckle. “Actually, my absentminded lordling, you started this when you insulted Trynne in the first place. I’ve had my revenge. If you want me to remove that ring safely, then you will apologize to Lady Tryneowy for your ill conduct, your pompous attitude, and your foul breath.”
Elwis’s eyes flashed hot at the insults and he clenched his fist even harder. Trynne could sense the magic coming from Elwis’s hand once he was so close. The ring was probably uncomfortable to the point of distraction. Based on the fatigue in his eyes, the Prince of Brugia hadn’t slept much since their last encounter a fortnight earlier.
“Apologize?” Elwis spat.
Trynne wanted to punch Fallon in the stomach. That was one of the reasons he had wanted to bring her with him to Occitania. He had been plotting his revenge for years and was determined to humiliate Elwis. Why did he have to be so thickheaded? She shot Fallon a frustrated look as she tried to think of the best way out of their dilemma. She could make Elwis release Fallon. His little finger was right in front of her, and if she grabbed it, she could have him groveling on his knees in a moment, but it would only humiliate him, fomenting the need for more revenge. People were staring at them, whispering and pointing. Perhaps the deconeus or the sexton would intervene.
Trynne put her hand over Elwis’s wrist—gently, not angrily. “Please, can we not be civilized?” she asked. “We’re causing a scene. Unhand him. You are peers.”
“He is not my peer,” Elwis snorted, his face flushed with anger. “What is Dundrennan compared with the might and power of Brugia? You’d be no more than an earl in my realm.”
Fallon quirked an eyebrow. “Is that your best insult? I had hoped for better. Now let go of my jacket, or I will make you.”
“Fallon,” Trynne warned.
He held up his hands, trying to show her that he wasn’t the aggressor at the moment. “All I require is an apology. You insulted a woman and my dear friend. You called her ugly, which she is not. But now you bear the stain of your own remark. How does it feel?”
Elwis’s eyes glowered with hatred.
“I won’t ask for an apology on my own account,” Fallon continued with contempt. “Despite the way you and your gormless friends beset me during the last Gauntlet. You are knaves, the lot of you, but I don’t fear you, Elwis. If you want my blood, you’ll have to earn it.”
“Fallon!” Trynne snapped. She was furious at him for making things even worse, and at a time when the realm needed to be united. “This is unseemly. We have enemies enough that we cannot afford such childishness. Prince Elwis, let him go. I implore you.”
Elwis’s lip sneered and he released his tight grip. His other hand still held his dagger. “You are lucky to have a woman to intercede for you.”
“I imagine you are finding it difficult to have women in your company at present.”
Trynne shut her eyes, trying to summon the shards of her shattered patience. “You are both behaving like training-yard bullies,” she said crossly. She turned to the prince. “Take off your glove. Let me see the ring.”
His eyes were still smoldering, but he obeyed and tugged loose the glove. The skin of his hand was a vibrant red and looked very painful. It was a debilitating curse, one that would only grow more serious with time. She felt the strains of magic coming from it, brimming with dark purpose. The ring had powers of disguise and concealment, yes, but a curse had been overlaid atop it. She sensed the binding that prevented Elwis from removing it.
She took hold of the prince’s hand, studying the markings on the ring. They were written in the ancient tongue. The word of release would be etched into the inner band, but she already knew the word of power that would dispel the charm.
“Ekluo,” Trynne said. It was a stronger form of the word that would have released the ring from the prince’s finger. It unmade the charm that had cursed it. The taint of the magic vanished, and Trynne slid the ring off Elwis’s hand.
A look of relief flooded the prince’s face. He was about to pull his hand away from her, but she held on and murmured another word. The marks on his face were gone, his nose restored. The curse of the ring was to make the wearer ugly in his own sight. No salve or mixture would have changed the condition because it was only an illusion.
“You are restored,” Trynne said, clenching the ring in her fist. She glared at Fallon, who looked at once angry and disappointed.
Prince Elwis looked at his hand. The only sign the ring had been there was an indentation in his skin where it had clung. He let out a sigh, but he still looked full of wrath. He glowered at Fallon, his eyes and twitching cheek promising the game of revenge would continue.
Then, without a word, he turned and started to walk away.
Fallon chuffed. “He didn’t even thank you?” he said with disbelief.
“That was very misguided, Fallon Llewellyn,” Trynne said, rounding on him.
“Please, you’re not going to lecture me right now, are you?” he said. “You won. You were cleverer than either of us. A born peacemaker. No need to rub it in.”
“Do you realize how angry he was?” Trynne said, her voice rising.
“I don’t care how angry he was,” Fallon countered. “Do you really think he was going to draw his dagger and stab me here in front of all of these witnesses?”
Trynne blinked. “Yes. Yes, I do think he would have. This rivalry with him must end, Fallon. That road has no good destination. Turn around.”
He looked displeased by her rebuke. “I did it for you. For what he said to you.”
She threw up her hands. “Strange how I stopped caring about the whole thing long ago. Why do you keep shoveling fuel into the brazier?”
“How wonderful it is for you to forgive such a slight, but I’ll not have people speaking ill of you.” His face was livid with emotion. He was deeply bothered by something. She could see him wrestling inside with some dark emotion.
She wanted to be away from the sanctuary, away from Pree. She was going to best them both during the competition. With the ring in her possession, she would be able to deceive them all even better.
Suddenly Fallon’s expression changed, his eyes bulging. When Trynne turned around, she saw Morwenna striding toward them, a flushed look on her face.
“What is it?” Trynne gasped, running forward and taking the other girl’s arms. “What has happened?”
Morwenna blinked when she saw Fallon. Her eyes went from one of them to the other. Then she shook her head. “There’s little time. We must get to Kingfountain, straightaway. The king sent me to find you.”
The sound of boots came again, and then Elwis was there, his eyes narrowing with concern. “Lady Morwenna, what brings you here?”
“We must all go to Kingfountain,” the poisoner said. “The whole council of the Ring Table
has been summoned by the king. The invasion has begun. Gahalatine has attacked Brugia.”
“Where!” Elwis nearly shouted with shock. His eyes were wide with desperation.
“The eastern fortress of Guilme. They attacked by sea.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Troubled Waters
The feeling inside the main hall of Kingfountain was as turbulent as the fountain waters in the chapel. Within the span of a few brief hours, the king’s council had assembled in chairs around the ancient Ring Table. Guards had barred the doors, and no servants were admitted. Trynne had helped bring Fallon’s parents from Edonburick, while her mother and Morwenna had assembled the other nobles of the combined realms.
Trynne did not have a seat at the table, but her eyes kept returning to the one Myrddin had named the Siege Perilous. It was empty at the moment because her parents were standing off to one side, conferring with the king and queen in low tones while the rest of the assembled lords and ladies were discussing the news of the invasion with great agitation. Trynne stood aloof, feeling out of place. Her insides squirmed with worry at the thought of losing her father. There could not be much time left. She knew that she would be asked to stay behind to defend the homeland, but she equally knew that it was the Fountain’s will that she accompany and protect the king. How could she accomplish both?
To drive away her frantic thoughts, she cast her eyes over those assembled. Not since the royal wedding and coronation had so many nobles gathered together. But this was not a festive occasion. The absence of Myrddin was conspicuous.
There, at one end of the table, were Prince Elwis and his taciturn father, heads bent low in conversation. Elwis knelt alongside his father’s chair, speaking to him quietly but urgently. The father kept stroking his lip nervously as Elwis whispered to him, occasionally earning a cross brow or a curt shake of the head.
Fallon paced like an animal in a cage. He longed for conflict, and Trynne could judge from his bearing that he was spoiling for a confrontation with Gahalatine’s hosts. His mother, Elysabeth, could be heard even over the tumult.
“Well yes, Iago, but if we hire Genevese merchant ships, we can triple the number of vessels and transport the soldiers faster.”
“But can we trust the Genevese?” asked Iago Llewellyn disdainfully, shaking his head. “Perhaps they are in league with our enemies.”
Trynne saw the embassy from Occitania, the Queen Dowager Elyse and her son, the child king looking about as out of place as a young man could in such an environment. His eyes were wide and terrified. His mother looked unflustered, but she had the steel of the Argentines in her blood. Standing behind her chair was the aging herald Anjers, who had a keen eye and a wary expression.
Near them sat the Grand Duke of Legault, a vassal of the crown of Ceredigion. Lord Amrein, who was both lord chancellor and head of the Espion, looked pale and troubled as he spoke about the numbers they had been preparing for the invasion. He wondered aloud if it would be enough.
Duke Severn caught her eye next. Although he was not a member of the king’s council, he had commandeered one of the vacant chairs and sat there stiffly, as if the wood bothered his back, a discontented frown contorting his mouth. Morwenna stood at his side, her hand on his shoulder. Seated next to him at the table was his wife, Lady Kathryn, and Trynne saw them holding hands under the table. Severn’s other hand was gripping his dagger, which he slowly drew from the scabbard, then slammed back down. Trynne thought it curious that Morwenna stood by her father’s side, not between him and her mother.
The dukes of East Stowe and Southport were also present, and Lord Ramey tossed up his hands and, patting the table, asked rather vocally when they could begin discussing the threat.
“My lords and ladies, if you’d take your seats,” King Drew said, his voice cutting through the noise. It quelled in an instant.
Most leaned forward, eager to learn more than the scraps they’d been given before the summons.
The noise of chairs scooting finally ceased as everyone took their places. The king remained standing, his knuckles on the table, his handsome face drawn with concern. He was a young man still, a father-to-be, though most in the room didn’t know it. Trynne could feel the palpable worry emanating from him. He wore the hollow crown and it fit him well, but it was a burden at such a moment.
King Drew waited until everyone was seated in the extra chairs brought in for the occasion before lowering himself into his own chair. His voice was firm and controlled when he spoke. “Thank you all for answering the summons. I received word last night that the invasion has begun. Gahalatine’s fleet left Chandigarl weeks ago. I was told”—here he glanced at Trynne’s mother—“that the fleet has attacked Brugia and will besiege the fortress of Guilme. A ship arrived today from Lord Maxwell confirming it and asking for relief. Rucrius’s warning has been fulfilled. He declared war, and Gahalatine has struck.” The king paused then, raking his eyes across those assembled. “It would be tempting to consider that Gahalatine might be satisfied by conquering Brugia alone, but I do not think he will. It is not only your dominions he seeks to conquer, Lord Maxwell, but Kingfountain itself. He is threatened by us. Like any man driven by ambition, he will not rest until he’s succeeded in his aim. If we do not stand all together, we will topple like so many tiles.” He offered Owen a knowing smile. Stacking tiles in intricate designs had been Trynne’s father’s way of filling his well of Fountain magic when he was a young man.
Drew leaned back in the wooden chair, smoothing his hand across the polished table. “After the Wizr Rucrius appeared, uninvited, in this very room and threatened our city, I sent my sister to learn more about our enemy. She returned with dire news.” He looked at Morwenna and then nodded for her to speak.
Morwenna stepped away from her father’s chair and all eyes went to her. Despite her best intentions, Trynne could not help but compare herself with the other girl. Morwenna was a more impressive figure, tall and athletic and striking. Her raven hair and gray eyes marked her as her father’s daughter, but she was still a mix of her parents.
“My lords and ladies,” Morwenna said with an air of confidence. “I have been to Chandigarl. The threat we face is indeed very real. That kingdom is spilling over with riches from Gahalatine’s conquests. His city shines like a jewel. I’ve never seen the like in my life. There are no poor, no slums. The people conduct business with ferocity until noontide, and then they retreat to public forums to discuss and debate with one another. There is much wisdom in Chandigarl. It is an ancient city.” She shook her head. “There is nothing in our realms to compare it to. The city of Marq is no more than a pebble next to a boulder. Pree? A street.” She shrugged. “What I was most keen on learning is what power this ruler possesses. He is Fountain-blessed and highly respected by his people. They say he is quick to laugh and of a kindly disposition. But I also learned he is utterly ambitious, to the point of being ruthless.”
She began pacing around the Ring Table as she spoke. “I was able to insinuate myself into the royal palace. I have seen him use his Fountain magic. He did it in the great hall, which is the size of an amphitheater. One of his generals had captured the kingdom of Neffar at his behest and brought its ruler to bend the knee before him. The man was an ancient enemy of Gahalatine’s. One of his distant cousins. You could see the fury and humiliation in his eyes as he cowered before him. He looked as if he wanted to stab Gahalatine, but he had no weapons. I was disguised as a servant. There are many, too many to keep track of. Gahalatine rose and started to speak. He spoke about his vision of uniting Neffar with his dominion. He praised the ruler for having done the best he could, the best his traditions would allow, but said that he had failed as a leader because his people were suffering. For their sake, Gahalatine could no longer allow him to rule, but he would bring him and his concubines to Chandigarl so he could be taught the proper way to rule. Perhaps, in the future, he would once more be granted dominion of his lands. As Gahalatine spoke, the magic of
the Fountain worked on the ruler. His hatred and animosity melted away. He suddenly became . . . servile. He thanked Gahalatine ardently, to the point of tears. I’ve never seen such a transformation. The man had literally lost his kingdom and he was thanking the man who’d wrested it from him. He was given a position in court. There are many such people in Chandigarl, living in the city’s royal mansions. It is a prison, to be sure. But they have the appearance of wealth and power.” She paused, considering her words. “It is my conviction that Gahalatine is blessed not with the power of speech, but with the power to inspire other men. As I heard him speak, I felt his power wash over me. If I had not trained my mind for many years, I would have fallen sway to him and betrayed this council. I think only someone Fountain-blessed can withstand such a force of will.”
Morwenna turned and faced the king. “As I told Your Majesty earlier today, Gahalatine is equipped with a fleet of treasure ships. I did not see them because the boats had already sailed from Chandigarl when I arrived. Gahalatine also has at least sixteen Wizrs serving him.”
There was an audible gasp when she said this.
Morwenna nodded, her eyebrows raised. “Rucrius is not even his chief Wizr. The pattern, so far as I have discerned, is that one of the Wizrs is sent with a warning to the court Gahalatine plans to attack. Not an ultimatum to surrender.” She shook her head decisively. “Gahalatine wants to defeat other rulers. He wants to prove he is the more able leader. They say a hundred kings have already sworn homage to him. I’m sure some of them have petty domains, but his conquests are still boasted about throughout court. He has fixed his eye on Kingfountain. I heard him announce that he was going to conquer our kingdom personally. His Wizrs reported that the fleet had landed at the fortress of Guilme, and he announced his intention to travel there this very day. The cheer in his hall was deafening. As soon as he vanished out of sight, I returned to bring my grim news.”