“My lord, there is a plot afoot,” she answered, rubbing her hand along her arm to quell the shivering. Her clothes and skin reeked of the cesspit, but the stench was no longer so overpowering. “Morwenna and I went to Chandigarl. I brought back Lady Evie, as you saw.”

“Where is my half sister?” Drew demanded intently, his eyes narrowing.

“Back in Chandigarl, for all I know,” Trynne said. “Her disguise failed while we were going to rescue Lady Evie from the zenana. My disguise wasn’t caused by magic, so no one suspected me. But no, that’s not true. Gahalatine set a trap. He let me come into the tower, hoping to capture me. My lord, I’m sure there are more layers to the situation than what I understand.” She gazed at the abandoned yard and then motioned for the king to follow her to the arched doorway leading to the gardens.

A rattling at the hatch behind them startled her. She did not believe Rucrius would jump down the shaft after them. He was too proud, too powerful for such a scheme. Reaching the doorway, she listened and heard the tread of boots coming toward it.

“Someone is coming,” the king whispered, hearing the sound.

“There is a fountain that way,” Trynne said, pointing toward the door. “I know this part of the grounds well. If we can reach it, I can take us through the ley lines.” She motioned for him to stand on the other side of the door. She pressed her back against the stone, holding the sword up. Drew mimicked her and waited breathlessly on the other side.

The door handle jiggled and then it opened, but it was not Rucrius or any of his men on the other side. Drew, the castle’s woodsman, entered the gardener’s paddock, gripping an axe in his hand. His snowy white hair nearly glowed in the moonlight.

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.”