Their footsteps drew nearer and Trynne rose, stifling the tears that were still fresh in her eyes. She stared down at the fountain water, expecting it to be clouded with blood, but the water was strangely clear. Rucrius’s body was still and silent; all evidence of his magic and power had been snuffed out.

Then Trynne sensed something. It was an awareness, like the presence of another Fountain-blessed trying to remain concealed.

“What did it sound like?”

“I heard splashing.”

There was a grunt of anger. “Maybe someone was taking a bath!”

“It’s the middle of the night,” hissed the other man. “Do you hear anyone now? No, I know what I heard. This way.”

The light drew closer. Trynne knew it was time to return to Dundrennan. She couldn’t be found there, and she did not want to leave the king so vulnerable.

Rucrius had brought her many places, rejecting each one, trying to break free of her grip. Of all the choices he could have made, he had brought her to the poisoner school of Pisan. The school where Morwenna had studied.

How long had Rucrius been involved in the affairs of the kingdoms? Had he played a role in keeping Ceredigion and Occitania and Brugia fighting each other? Was there more subtlety to the poisoner school than she or anyone had imagined?

But there would be time to explore her suspicions later. For now, she needed to return to the fight at Dundrennan. She straightened and invoked the word of power.

Trynne emerged from the fountain in the midst of the castle and quickly invoked the magic of the ring, concealing the armor and streaks of woad on her face, looking just as she had before. The sound of fighting echoed in the stone hall. Trynne rushed out of the chapel and found the corridor filled with bodies, some wearing the tunic of the Pierced Lion, some the armor of Gahalatine. The corridors were lit by flickering torchlight.

“Gather near me!” she heard Captain Staeli bark. “Hold the doors. Do not let any of the wretches past!”

Trynne rounded the corner and saw a wall of soldiers facing off against Staeli and six Oath Maidens. They were outnumbered but defiant. The warriors of Chandigarl pressed forward and the Oath Maidens rushed to meet them, swinging blades and kicking out with booted feet. Trynne watched one of the girls fall. Then another, but for each one who fell, five or six of the enemy was killed.

She rushed to attack the Chandigarli from behind—the enemy soldiers were boxed in, and they seemed to panic when they realized it.

“That does it!” Staeli crooned, slashing at their foes with both hands. In moments, the rest of the attackers had fallen.

“Lady Trynne!” one of the girls said, seeing her.

Captain Staeli looked at her with surprise. “By the shroud, lass! Look at you!”