Drew shook his head. “My lord duke, we have barely a thousand warriors with us in all. Just the forces from Averanche under Lady Trynne and Captain Staeli and part of the Beestone garrison. My army will gather in the North. We don’t have the ability to stand and fight here.”

Severn looked surprised, but he recovered quickly. “It was only a ruse, then,” he said with a cough and a chuckle. “I thought you’d ridden from Kingfountain when you got word of the invasion.”

Drew chuffed. “We’ve been driven out of Kingfountain, my lord. My wife and daughter are in sanctuary at Our Lady. Many of the nobles have scattered. If I’m to fight Gahalatine, then I want to choose the ground. I choose Dundrennan.”

A strange look came over Severn’s face. It was the very place where he had lost the crown of Ceredigion. Trynne wondered how he was feeling. His hand grabbed the dagger hilt at his belt and clenched it hard. His cheek muscles twitched and his nostrils flared. “The men of the North are strong, my lord,” he said at last. “They’ll defend you.”

“I’m counting on it,” Drew answered. “Captain Staeli!” he called. When the captain approached him, he asked, “How many have you lost?”

“Twelve of the maidens,” he replied, his voice thick with anger. “So far. If we don’t hasten, then all will be slaughtered.”

“I agree. Form a rearguard to protect us as we go. We’ve lost Blackpool. But we got what we came here for.” He gave Severn an honored look and then nodded at Trynne. “Ride with us, Uncle. The winter has not yet started.”

“Aye,” said the duke, tugging at the reins of his steed. Then he nodded toward the hollow crown, his eyes glittering. “But maybe it should.”

They did not stop until they reached Dundrennan. Fresh mounts were taken from the cities and towns that they passed. Trynne was so used to using the ley lines to travel that it felt strange to be going at such a slow pace. Not knowing what awaited them at Dundrennan, she felt it would be better for her and the king to arrive with an army at their backs instead of alone.

The mountain air grew colder, the trail more rugged and steep as they trudged into the hinterlands of the realm. She saw the icy peak of Helvellyn, where the Maid of Donremy had been executed by being chained to a rock. Severn had once ordered her father to be killed that way, but Fallon’s parents had prevented it. She had always wanted to visit that place but never had, having spent so many of her days in Brythonica and at the palace. Her few visits to Dundrennan had been spent at Dundrennan.