Trynne hardly had time to consider the implications of her discovery. Her time had run out. But even as she hurriedly put the tunic back into the chest, she thought back on the clues she had witnessed before. Morwenna always told the story of how she’d accidentally appeared in Dundrennan the first time she’d used the ley lines—and then immediately fainted. She had claimed that she was trying for Kingfountain and overshot it. But Trynne realized that had probably been a lie. Morwenna likely lied a lot.

The bitter taste in her mouth was stronger than any poison. Fallon had confessed his love for Trynne. Said that he had always loved her. But had her rejection of him estranged him enough that he’d sought solace in the willing arms of another woman? She hated where her thoughts had taken her and the feelings they were breaking loose. She slid the chest beneath the bed and hurriedly sat on the edge of the mattress, trying to mask her emotions and feelings in preparation for Morwenna’s arrival.

The Argentine girl slowed her steps as she approached the landing. Trynne leaned forward, entwining her fingers, summoning her magic to defend herself if necessary. She felt Morwenna’s magic as well, spilling into the room to test for intruders. They were both aware of each other, as they had been that day in Marq. The day that Trynne and Captain Staeli had chased Dragan through the city. The day she’d first learned that Morwenna had been seeing Fallon.

Morwenna appeared in the doorway, a dagger in hand, a look of wariness on her beautiful face.

“Trynne?” Her voice was low, almost accusatory.

“I’m here,” Trynne answered, rising and clutching her bosom. “I was winded after the climb up the stairs. I’ve not been here long.”

Morwenna paused at the entry, looking suspiciously at either side of the doorway, as if anticipating an attack. She slowly lowered the dagger.

“I barely recognized you in your Eastern garb,” Morwenna said. “Where did you get it? It’s very authentic.”

“I borrowed it from someone,” Trynne answered, deliberately vague. “I think we should go to Chandigarl now. It is nearly sunset. What time of day would it be in the Forbidden Court?”

“I hadn’t heard you’d returned to Kingfountain. No one sent for me.” Morwenna glanced around the room surreptitiously, as if trying to see if any of her things had been rifled through.

“I just arrived.”

“Apparently so.” Her wariness was softening. “I’m sorry for my lack of courtesy, Trynne. I don’t entertain visitors up here . . . very often. You startled me.”

Was there a double meaning in her words? A test to see Trynne’s reaction? She wrestled with her feelings.

“I’m not surprised to hear it. It’s quite a climb.”