And then Gahalatine’s champion sliced Fallon’s leg at the knee, twirled, and brought her elbow into his nose. He teetered backward, trying to keep his footing despite the blaze of pain from his torn lip and the blood gushing from his knee. Then he went down, dropping his blade on impact. Trynne watched in horror as the knight maiden turned her sword toward his heart, gripping it with both hands.

Trynne saw what she must do. It opened in front of her like a vision.

“My lord, your sword!” she said to Drew, dropping her own and holding out her hand. She knew in her heart that Firebos would not be affected by the knight’s armor. It was the only weapon that could pierce it unharmed.

Drew’s eyes widened when he looked at her, seeing the smear of blue on her face, recognizing that she, Trynne Kiskaddon, was the Painted Knight. He obeyed her at once, handing the blade of the Maid of Donremy to her. Its magic felt familiar to her, as if she’d carried it into battle all along.

The enemy knight jammed the sword down toward Fallon’s heart as Trynne invoked the wellspring magic once again. The room seemed to still and slow, as it had before, and she spanned the space between them with a few lunging steps, swinging Firebos around to deflect the blade. The two swords met with a clash of sparks.

Trynne continued her attack, driving the other knight backward, away from Fallon, back toward Gahalatine. Their blades met and rang, counter versus counter. Trynne did not limit her focus to the blade. She hacked at the other woman’s armor, each blow sending splashes of dust into the air, but Firebos was indeed protected from harm. There was a screeching noise as the woman’s armor was sheared open.

Trynne reached out with her magic, sensing for weakness, for vulnerability, and found plenty. The woman had trained in the arts of war for years, but she was so accustomed to the protection of her armor and her magic that she had mostly trained for attack, not defense. She was fearful now, recognizing that she was no match for Trynne’s skill with a blade. She was full of Fountain magic, but there was something different about it . . . that was when Trynne realized that Gahalatine and his champion shared their store of magic. They were siblings.

And now Gahalatine’s sister was in danger. Trynne attacked viciously, hitting her arm guards, shoulders, driving her back step by step, the shimmering blade of ancient kings like a storm in her hand. She felt the two Wizrs behind Gahalatine use their magic against her, but their spells simply shot past her, driven to the side. Trynne continued to push the woman farther and farther back and then made a quick strike at her wrist, sending her sword clattering to the floor.