Trynne wrinkled her brow. “In this kingdom, a woman can be married at sixteen or seventeen. There are no such laws. And my parents are both alive, I hope. They are just not here.”

Gahalatine nodded. “I understand the laws are different in Kingfountain. But I cannot overlook the customs and traditions of my people. I would bring dishonor on myself if I broke the law when it suited me.” He smiled and sighed dejectedly. “If I had to wait a year or two for you, it would not change my answer. It will give me an even stronger motivation to find your father quickly,” he said, raising his eyebrows meaningfully.

Trynne blushed. “I will have you, Gahalatine. I give you my promise.”

He nodded and took her hands and kissed them again. “Until that time, we will be as brother and sister. I would not besmirch your honor for all the world.”

“I know you would not,” Trynne replied. It was obvious the law frustrated him, but it did not hinder his resolve to do the honorable thing. She felt acutely the relief that although she had to marry someone she didn’t love—not yet—at least he was a man worthy of admiration.

He offered her his hand. “I think your king will be anxious to hear from us.”

Trynne could hardly believe what she was hearing. She felt like the sunlight beaming through the curtain of the tent. Would the conflict end at last? With Gahalatine’s help, would she be able to find her father? To save him and Drew and Genevieve? Would she herself be able to save the kingdom?

She was so exhausted, she only nodded. But she reached out and squeezed Gahalatine’s hand. He looked so tender and mournful in that moment, she lifted herself onto the tips of her toes and grazed his cheek with a kiss.

Trynne was amazed at how much the world had transformed since she had arrived with her army. The mountain Helvellyn was sheathed in heavy banks of snow with only a few gray crags visible. The roofs of the town were nearly buried under the drifts. The snow was falling in a continuous plume, threatening to bury the entire world in winter, and the air was so cold it burned her nose to breathe it. She saw Gahalatine’s warriors patrolling the battlement walls, carrying torches and shoveling the paths.

The Wizr Albion brought them back to the great hall with the Tay al-Ard. The smell of blood and death hung in the hall and the place was full of commotion. Gahalatine’s surgeons were hard at work tending to the wounded soldiers who had fought for Trynne and the king.

Her heart filled with grief at the destruction, especially the loss of Captain Staeli.