“My lord, perhaps Morwenna is driven by ambition and not revenge. I heard in Chandigarl that the Wizrs are forcing Gahalatine to marry. If he does not choose his own bride, they will choose one for him. Perhaps Rucrius’s plan is to put Morwenna on the throne. She looks like a queen. She’s the daughter of one.”

Drew pursed his lips and gave Trynne a tender, sympathetic look. His face was calm and peaceful. “But Gahalatine is wiser for having chosen you, Trynne. My grandfather always valued Ankarette’s advice above all others. Now I can see why. Discernment is as important as she always said it was. I trust your instincts, Trynne. I believe in you. Now,” he added, shifting to a more playful tone. “I would normally ask this of my poisoner, but she’s indisposed. You said you felt the presence of another Fountain-blessed in the castle. It’s probably Carrick, the hunter. But just in case, I’d like you to take some of the maidens and go find this person. Let’s be sure they are on our side.”

Trynne bowed in obeisance and left the king’s chamber after the servant they had sent in search of Captain Staeli returned with him and six maidens. There had been no chance to eat amidst the commotion of the day, so she nibbled a bread roll as she led two of the girls through the halls. The castle was still in commotion from their arrival. The common hall was filled with rows of trestle tables, and the maidens sat eating the provisions that had been set out for them. There was a feeling of good spirits now that they’d reached the protection of the mountains, but there was also worry in the air. Everyone knew Gahalatine was on his way. Some of the serving girls were talking to the Oath Maidens, admiring their armor and weapons, and intrigued to hear the tales of their training.

Trynne could feel the call of the magic reaching out to her still, those musical notes playing over and over. She left the great hall and found a passageway leading to a set of spiral stairs in one of the tower turrets. Grabbing a torch from the wall sconce for light, she led the way down to the lower level. The noise and commotion from the common hall receded. Below she found the armory, where soldiers were grinding axes and swords while blacksmiths fixed and repaired armor. The smell of men’s unwashed bodies was everywhere and some were smoking pipes and speaking in the Northern accent.