“Of course he does. But he’s just a child, Trynne. You are a woman. I know you have responsibilities of your own. I know that you do not want this burden.” Her voice hinted at the disappointment she felt that her daughter had chosen not to follow her path. “You must see it done. The people will need the reassurance that a Montfort will always be near. Promise me.”

The words were like shackles fitting around Trynne’s wrists. She could feel the heaviness of them. Brythonica and Westmarch were her birthrights, her responsibilities. It was a relief to have Gannon, young though he was, to share the burden.

“I will, of course,” Trynne said, though she could not completely mask the reluctance she felt. “The king asked me to summon you to court. That is why I came.”

Sinia heaved a sigh. “This will not be welcome news.”

“Indeed, it will not,” Trynne said. “I think he is anxious for word on where Gahalatine will press his attack. We have too many vulnerabilities. The fleet of treasure ships is on its way. They are coming to invade us, and his Wizr is about to tell him that the Fountain bids her to leave.” The panic and dread inside Trynne’s heart threatened to consume her.

“The king has another Wizr,” Sinia said, her voice flat. Although she was looking at Trynne, it was understood that she meant the king’s sister. “Morwenna is powerful. She finds new words of power almost daily. She’s drawn to them somehow, as if the books are trying to teach her quickly. I’ve never seen this before. She has surpassed where I was at her age.” Her voice grew softer. “The Fountain has provided another to take my place.”

It felt like another blow.

Trynne had been there the day Myrddin had told King Drew and her father that he was leaving. The threat they had faced was less real back then; they had not been attacked by their enemies at that point, so Gahalatine had not yet possessed a foothold in their realm.

Trynne watched as Drew absorbed her mother’s news in stunned silence. They were gathered in the solar of the palace at Kingfountain. Genevieve cradled their tiny babe in her arms, wrapped in the softest of blankets, and pressed little kisses against her feather-light tufts of hair. The babe’s namesake, Lady Kathryn, was also present. She and Morwenna were standing side by side, and while Kathryn was clearly surprised by the news, a strange look had passed across her daughter’s eyes. Perhaps Morwenna was thinking about being the realm’s only Wizr. It was a powerful position, to be sure, and a dangerous one.