It wasn’t even dusk, yet Trynne was wearied by the day’s labors. The sudden news about Gahalatine’s fleet heading toward their shores had given her a new purpose, a distraction from the anguish of her brother’s and grandparents’ deaths. Knowing the massive fleet could easily blockade Ploemeur, she had ordered the Brythonican navy to set up a defensive ring around the coast and to keep watch for approaching vessels. There was enough food to withstand a siege, and the castle was full of defenders armed with bows in preparation for an enemy that could fly up to its walls. She was considering sending for Captain Staeli when Thierry arrived with news that he had come of his own accord.

“Please, bring him to me!” she said. She had been studying maps in her mother’s library, but she cleared some space on the table.

Captain Staeli arrived, looking like the soldier he was at heart, his cloak and tunic begrimed from the journey, his boots scuffed and weather-beaten. He stood in the doorway a moment, wringing the leather hood in his hands. His beard was mussed, his balding head spotted with sweat. He looked grief-stricken, and she realized that he had come after hearing the news of Gannon’s death. He was not a talkative man by nature, but he cared for her like a daughter. His lip twitched as the silence deepened between them.

“I am so glad you came,” Trynne said, coming around the table.

He stuffed the hood into his belt. His eyes were fierce. “I only heard the news yesterday,” he said, then sniffed. “Mariette is in charge while I’m gone. She’s a clever one, that lass.” He gave her a small smile. “Rani Reya’s not far behind her. She’s forged these strange hooklike swords. Very unnatural way to make a blade.”

Trynne laughed. “Yes, compared to our ways,” she agreed. She reached out and gripped his hands. “Thank you for coming. We’re about to be invaded, I think. Death has struck my family. I could use a friend at the moment.”

Staeli’s cheeks reddened at her words. “I’ve watched over you since you were a wee lass,” he said. “If Dragan has done this ill deed, as I suspect he has, then I will bring him to justice.” He sniffed. “I swear it by the Fountain.” The smoldering rage in his eyes was frightening—or it would have been had it been directed at her.