She had since received letters of condolence from the king and queen, written personally by them and not by scribes. She recognized their handwriting and appreciated the comforting words. There was also a note from Morwenna, expressing her deepest sympathies and shared grief. She wrote about how fond she’d always been of the little one and how she knew Trynne must be suffering.

Gazing out the window, Trynne stared at the wall of sea fog out in the harbor past the beach of sea glass. This was not unusual in Brythonica. The rich sea mists regularly flowed inland and helped provide moisture for the thriving plants in the fields. But something about it reminded her of the night her father had disappeared, the night of the Battle of Guilme, and a feeling of nervous agitation grew inside her. She sent for Thierry.

He arrived, looking wearied by his duties, and his face fell further, if that were possible, when he saw her nearly full plate. “My lady, you must eat!” he implored.

“I will, Thierry. I want you to make sure the night watch is vigilant tonight. It looks like there will be fog.”

Thierry nodded. “Fog is a good thing. The shores of Brythonica are deadly to seamen who are unfamiliar with them. If you get caught in the wrong tide, a ship will crash on the rocks.”

Trynne was not comforted by his words. “I have no doubt that our enemies have extensive maps of our coastline. They may have even gotten the tide schedules from the Genevese.”

“Genevar would never betray us!”

“Not willingly, perhaps. In the House of Pillars this morning, it was reported that no vessels from Genevar have landed in Ploemeur in the last two days. Did any arrive today?”

Thierry looked at her blankly. “I don’t know.”

“When you give the order for the night watch, please see if you can find out.”

“As you will, my lady. Please . . . eat some food.” He said it with a look of worried tenderness.

Trynne nodded, but she rose from the table as soon as he left and paced by the window, watching the wall of fog. It would mute a dazzling sunset. She went back and took a morsel of bread and slowly bit into it, forcing herself. Then she opened the balcony window and stepped out, feeling the chill of the sea breeze cut through her gown.

Had the Gauntlet been completed yet? Who had won? Part of her wanted Fallon to win the role he coveted so much. Part of her hoped one of the Oath Maidens like Mariette had claimed it instead, just to spite him. The sun was probably setting over Kingfountain at that very moment. Should she steal away through the ley lines just to find out the news?

A heavy, strangling feeling followed the thought. It felt wrong—very wrong. Trynne frowned, folding her arms and leaning against the door frame, and shivered.