There were three external doors leading into the hall. One of the far doors shuddered as something heavy struck it. Then something began to pound against the second door. The third led deeper into the castle, where the inhabitants of the city were hunkering down.

Drew turned and drew his sword. “This is where we stand and fight. This is where the honor of Kingfountain rests. Do your duty. I can ask no more.”

Trynne’s heart churned with worry. Should she take Drew somewhere else? If the Chandigarli soldiers broke through, should she flee with the king and leave Dundrennan to its fate? Leaving . . . Fallon? Captain Staeli? Her maidens? She covered her mouth, not knowing what she should do.

Then she spied Morwenna again, still slumped on the floor, gazing sullenly at the doors. The poisoner had helped them defend the castle during the storm Rucrius had summoned. Her reward had been to watch her father die at his hand. Although Trynne’s feelings for the Argentine girl were complex, she did pity her.

Without thinking, Trynne left the king and Fallon and approached Morwenna. The dark-haired girl looked up at her, nearly cowering with shame and misery.

“You killed him,” Morwenna said in a thick, haunted voice. Her eyes were red from crying. “You killed your father.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE The King’s Champion

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

The King’s Champion

Morwenna’s words cut Trynne to her heart. It was her greatest fear that she would be responsible, inadvertently or not, for her father’s death. The struggle to control and contain her emotions was challenging, but although the words had filled her with worry and misery, they did not ring of truth. There was no confirming whisper from the Fountain. Trynne dropped lower, putting her hand on Morwenna’s shoulder.

“I don’t say it out of envy or spite,” the poisoner said with tears. Her face was ravaged with grief. “Rucrius left orders that Lord Owen was to be dispatched. Gahalatine doesn’t know this. He’s never known.”

“Do you know where they were keeping him?” Trynne asked, letting herself hope. “Is there a chance to stop it?”

Morwenna covered her face. “I’m sorry, Trynne. It’s all my fault. When I was at the poisoner school, I found a copy of The Vulgate. I told you this already. What I couldn’t tell you is that Rucrius planted it there, seeking someone like me.” She raised her tearstained eyes.

“What do you mean?” Trynne said, raising her voice. The noise from the besieged doors, shuddering on their hinges, was growing louder. Rows of knights and maidens were positioning themselves before them, preparing to defend the king.