The magic of the wellspring swept around Trynne like an embracing shield. Although it was invisible to the eye, it allowed her to sense and follow the movements of everyone around her. Time seemed to quiet and still to the point that she felt every throb of her heartbeat. Holding both of her blades, she charged toward Rucrius, sensing in him an impregnable magic—except for his neck. It occurred to her that in the game of Wizr, knight pieces were often sacrificed to claim an enemy’s Wizr. Was that what the Fountain wished from her? Was that how she would best save her king?

Trynne saw the leaf-armored warriors rushing toward her, weapons lifted. The wellspring magic surrounding her made their movements appear lethargic, as if they were fighting in a field of mud. She sliced two of them as she ducked around, marveling that her speed was greater than theirs. She’d experienced the perfect weaving of her magic with the wellspring magic before in the training yard. It happened when she was totally focused and relentless. Nothing else mattered. Glaives swept toward her, but she had time to duck and counter, and she spun around and dispatched her attackers before they could even finish their initial strokes.

Rucrius’s face slowly contorted with anger as he gazed at her. She saw his lips stretch and grimace as he formed words of power she couldn’t hear past the thumping noises of her heartbeat. Two more foes went down before her, splaying on the snow as they clutched their wounds. She passed through the enemy ranks, untouchable, weaving between Gahalatine’s warriors as they tried to strike at her, but none could match her speed.

Rucrius finished uttering the word of power and a blast of lightning struck at her from the wintry storm clouds. But Trynne was just ahead of it. Her skin tingled as if a hand were about to graze her neck, but the energy of the blast could not envelop her. Instead, several of Gahalatine’s warriors were charred from their proximity to the strike.

A glaive blade came toward her middle as a knight squinted his eyes against the light while trying to strike at her. Trynne crossed her blades in front of her, catching the weapon, and it shattered on the impact. She buffeted the soldier with her elbow and he spun twice before collapsing.

Rucrius’s eyes flashed with panic as she cut her way through the soldiers standing between them. Holding his staff and bloodstained blade, he positioned himself into a defensive stance.

Most of the soldiers were still blinded by the lightning, many of them covering their faces reflexively. She struck at several more Chandigarli warriors as she closed the gap, stopping only when she had reached the fallen body of Duke Severn, his eyes open, a gob of blood pooled by his mouth. Indignation filled her with new purpose.