Trynne thought about it. “Rani Reya. I will ask her to go.”

“I trust your judgment. Send her in the morning. We all need to rest.”

Several Oath Maidens were standing guard around the grove, including Emilia, the master archer. She lowered her bow when she saw who it was.

“If any of the other men try to visit our camp during the night,” she asked the king with a sly voice, “do we have your permission to rebuff them . . . sharply?”

Drew chuckled. “Indeed. They won’t make the mistake twice.”

Trynne grinned as she led the king to the edge of the woods, where blankets had been gathered around the gnarled roots of a tree. There were so many bedrolls around, it was difficult to step over them to reach the vacant space at the center of the area—the spot they’d reserved for the king. Drew nestled down next to a tree, leaning back against it instead of lying down.

Trynne found her blanket and settled into it after unstrapping her sword belt. The smell of the dirt and loam was intoxicating. Her eyelids were getting heavier just from being near the ground.

“Won’t you sleep, my lord?” she asked, propping herself on her elbow.

“I will,” the king answered softly. The sound of breathing and the quiet murmur of voices mixed with the noise of crickets and cicadas. Oath Maiden sentries ghosted in and out of the trees, keeping watch while the others slept. There was excitement in the air, as thick and palpable as the yeasty smell of the gorse.

Trynne laid her head on her arm, her mind spinning with fatigue. She would fall asleep in moments, she had no doubt of that.

“Trynne?”

The king’s voice was just a whisper.

“Yes, my lord?” She lifted her head again, staring at him in the darkness. The massive yew shadowed them. There was no glint of light coming from him at all.

“A thought struck me just now,” he said, shifting a little to get more comfortable. “I just wanted to share it with you.”

“Please do,” she said.

“For the last year, I have felt so . . . so forsaken by the Fountain. It felt as if everything was being wrenched away from me. First Myrddin. Then your father. Your mother. Some of my dukes. Now my wife and daughter. One by one, those most important to me have been taken away. I’ve been disheartened, Trynne. Why would the Fountain allow this to happen? Why would it give me the kingdom and then painfully strip it away from me?

“You’ve experienced such evils too. Misery and grief that surpasses my own. Have either of us ever deliberately acted against the Fountain’s wishes? Not that I can think of, anyway. Yet still this has happened.” His voice sounded forlorn, yet there was a spark of hope in it still.