“I was so fixed on it,” Morwenna said, staring down at her knuckles. “On seeking revenge against your father. For his treason against mine. I think . . . somehow . . . my thoughts brought Rucrius to me. He was powerful. He taught me the ways of the Wizrs, even more than your mother did. But before he would teach me, he gave me a ring.” Her eyes grew haunted. “A ring that would bind me to him, to keep me from betraying him. After I put it on, he . . . he had control of my mind. He could make me say things. He could compel my actions.” She quivered and trembled. “He was arranging for me to marry Gahalatine. It would have given me everything that I wished for. But I fought against him the first chance I got. In the first surge of the battle, his will was so focused on his magic and maintaining the whirlwind that I broke free of his control and sought to counter him. He”—she swallowed miserably—“he murdered my father as punishment. When you killed Rucrius, I felt his control over me break. His thoughts faded like echoes. I’ve lost everything. Everything.” Morwenna bowed her head and began to sob.

Trynne closed her eyes, her heart aching for the deceit and the manipulation. The eastern door cracked with loud snapping noises as the wood gave way.

“Stand fast!” Captain Staeli shouted. “Encircle the king!”

Trynne reached out with her magic and sensed that Morwenna’s store was still empty. It was as if her cup had shattered and she was recognizing that Trynne’s had not.

“You are powerful,” Morwenna whispered, tears glistening in her eyes.

The door pieces came crashing down and the enemy warriors began wading through the debris to get inside.

Protect the king.

Gratitude welled inside her. The Fountain had whispered for her to defend the king, not spirit him away.

Trynne rose and reached her hand down to Morwenna. “Now is not the time to be enemies. Defend your brother.”

Morwenna looked at her in startled surprise. “Do you trust me?”

Trynne chuffed. “No, not very much. But we’re short on allies at the moment. If any Wizrs come through those doors, go for the neck.” She drew her own dagger and handed it to Morwenna, who accepted it and then took her hand and allowed herself to be pulled back up.

Trynne’s throat was raw from thirst and her arms were weary from fighting. Both doors had been breached, but every time the Chandigarli soldiers tried to enter the hall, the knights of North Cumbria and the Oath Maidens of Averanche drove them out again. The sun had finally risen, but the situation had not changed.