“I have given this enough deliberation and careful thought. But it is my heart that persuades me I’d be a fool to reject your terms. I am ready to kneel before your king. I will swear homage and fealty to the Master of the Ring Table and the King of the Hollow Crown. You are a treasure worth more than crowns or rubies or palaces. Say that you will have me, and we will go this instant and declare peace. Will you be mine, Tryneowy Kiskaddon?”

She felt the warmth emanating from him, the tickle of his breath on her skin. Her feelings were as confusing as they were complex. She still loved Fallon. She always had. But in this man, in Gahalatine, she felt no trickery or deceit. What he truly lacked was discernment—and that was something she felt she could help him with. With it, she knew he could become a truly great man. She wished her parents could have been there to help her make her choice, but even though she believed this was what her mother’s vision had bespoken, it was ultimately her decision to make.

“I will have you,” she answered, feeling in her heart that it was the advice her mother would have given her.

He took her fingers in his hand and brought them to his lips for a kiss. “Then I will cherish you and protect you all the days of my life,” he whispered huskily. He kissed her fingertips again.

Then he rose and helped her stand. She gave him one of her crooked smiles, feeling self-conscious at the way he was gazing at her with undisguised admiration. She didn’t feel worthy of it.

“You are sixteen, are you not?” he asked her, but she could see he already knew the answer.

“I am, my lord,” she answered with a small dip of her chin.

“Finding your father is my highest priority,” he said. “We will do all that we can. I will enlist Sunilik’s aid. He is responsible for my estates and manors. But your mother is living. I had expected her to be defending Kingfountain, but she was not there. Is she in Ploemeur?”

Trynne shook her head. “No. The Fountain called her away on a journey. She boarded a ship and seeks the Deep Fathoms. She is not here.”

A troubled look surfaced on his face. “Indeed?”

“Yes,” Trynne answered.

His look became more troubled.

“What is it?” Trynne asked.

Gahalatine sighed, looking down. “It is one of the customs of the East Kingdoms,” he said, his brow furrowing. “A law, to be precise. It was done to protect women from being forced to marry against their will or from marrying too young. If a woman has no parents, her husband cannot consummate the marriage until she is eighteen. There are unscrupulous men who would do otherwise.”