Captain Staeli barked orders and improvised during the attack, constantly shifting the tactics and directing his maidens. His brow had been slashed by a blade, but he hadn’t let the blood dripping down his face slow him. His leadership and fearlessness had inspired everyone.

There was a pause after the latest attack had been repulsed, and everyone was breathing and gasping for air. Trynne had watched Morwenna fight with all the savage fury she could muster. Though unarmored, she alone had killed over a dozen knights. Fallon had also performed feats of bravery and skill, showing the outcome of his training. Yet even King Drew, with the blazing magic of Firebos, had been unable to stop the relentless flood of attackers continuing the assault of the fortress. A biting cold wind came through the demolished doorways, speaking of the blizzard still raging outside. Drew’s thoughts continued to power the storm that would unleash a mountain of snow on them.

“They’re coming,” Staeli warned, wiping a smear of blood from his cheek. “They’ll run out of soldiers ere long. Keep up the fight.”

Drew’s voice was ragged. “I don’t know how much more we’ll be able to take,” he gasped to Trynne.

She sensed the presence of other Fountain-blessed in the corridor. She recognized Gahalatine’s presence. When she had first seen him at the Battle of Guilme, she had sensed his enormous store of magic—it was unmistakable. But his efforts to embolden his warriors to continue the fight during a ferocious blizzard had drained him. His magic was diminished, but his force of will was still incredibly strong. There was another with him . . . no, at least two other Fountain-blessed with him. How many Wizrs had he brought?

“I see them,” Staeli snarled. He was in the front of the ranks alongside the maidens. “The emperor’s come himself. How grand.”

A disquieted murmur rippled through the hall. Trynne still tried to catch her breath, but she felt that the moment was coming. The fate of the kingdoms was about to be decided. She had no idea what it would be.

The Painted Knight must stand ready.

The thought throbbed in Trynne’s mind—insistent—and she released the magic of her ring just as Gahalatine and his group came into sight. All eyes were focused on the doorway.

Gahalatine’s fox-fur robe was thick with snow. He wore his armor and held a greatsword with one hand. Even though the ancient Wizr set had been destroyed, his presence in the castle filled her with the strange sensation that one of the pieces was moving across the board. There was something mysterious at work here, some magic she could not comprehend.