It made her smile, and she pushed away from the railing and turned to look over the city once more. A sunrise in Averanche. A sunset in Marq. She was so grateful to have the ability to traverse the kingdom in a mere moment. It would be a memorable day, an opportunity that would not come again now that the threat of war was on the horizon.

There was a cracking noise in the distance, followed immediately by the screams of horses. Trynne’s heart lurched as her eyes went to the source. A plume of dust churned into the air, and she watched in horror as the carriage carrying her brother skidded off the side of the mountain, dragging the terrified horses with it.

CHAPTER ELEVEN Mortain Falls

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Mortain Falls

There were no majestic, towering waterfalls in Brythonica. But Mortain Falls was just on the outskirts of Ploemeur, nestled in one of the beautiful hunting woods preserved by the house of Montfort. It was forbidden to hunt in the woods except by leave of the duchess. The falls were a series of steplike rocks, full of moss and fern, down which water fell steadily, radiating a comforting sound. Part of the stream was diverted around a larger outcropping, breaking the falls into two, around a cluster of fern and gorse. An ivy-covered shrine dedicated to Our Lady sat at the head of the falls, but there was a wooden deck built lower in the grotto that permitted visitors to come and throw coins into the water. Tarnished coins sparkled in the depths.

Mortain Falls was where the bodies of the dead rulers of Brythonica were sent to rest in the Deep Fathoms. The woods were thick and teeming with life, but the birds sounded less exuberant than usual as they observed the silent throng assembled at the falls.

Trynne stood in mute agony, wearing a black gown and a matching veil. The small canoe bearing her brother, Gannon, was carried by pallbearers. The body was covered in blankets to conceal the injuries that had inflicted his death. Sometimes it felt like a nightmare. If only she could pinch herself awake. She was broken to pieces inside, a boulder that had fallen off a cliff and shattered on the rocks below. Her grief came in waves that left her drowning. She clung to the rites of the Fountain for comfort as she assumed the roles she had inherited from both her parents. She had two vast realms to rule because there was no one else.

The pallbearers stood at the edge of the wooden platform, overlooking the small pool that emptied into a stream that would carry the body away. They stood silently, awaiting her orders. A nod was all it required. But she could not bring herself to give it.