“So am I,” Trynne whispered. King Sunilik’s concern for his daughter reminded her of her own father—despite the many demands on his time, he had always made time for her—and her heart ached. She hadn’t seen him in nearly a year.

“Then I feel better already, for you both will understand each other,” he said with his gap-toothed smile.

“How did you know who I was?” Trynne asked him. “Did the Fountain tell you?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I have long wished to meet the legendary Owen Kiskaddon, so I learned all that I could about him. One of the things that I learned was that his eldest child, his daughter”—he said the word almost reverently—“had been attacked violently as a child. It was your expression that gave you away, dear one. The side of your face that is paralyzed.” He gestured with his own hand across his left cheek. “If I hadn’t heard the stories, I would hardly have noticed it. But my gift from the Fountain is a keen memory.” He then tapped the side of his forehead playfully. “It has even been called prodigious. I knew that fact about you, saw a small evidence of it when you smiled in wonder, and the memory surfaced. If I have offended, I apologize sincerely.”

Trynne let herself smile despite knowing it was lopsided. Though it had mortified her as a child, she had made an uneasy peace with it. Many suitors were seeking her hand in marriage, and while some were rude and stared at her, most considered her unusual smile an insignificant matter compared with the vast size of her inheritance.

“I’m not offended, King Sunilik,” Trynne said. “And I will gladly take Sureya with me. How long ago did you receive the threat from Gahalatine?”

“Long enough that I’ve been dreading it more each day,” he replied, turning back to the view of the mountains. “My soldiers are hidden in the desert and have been watching for signs of his advance. We will have ample warning before they arrive. That mountain behind us provides great protection.”

Trynne looked back at the rugged, sloping shape. The sky had grown purple overhead, and the stars were winking into view one by one. Only a strip of orange painted by the sun’s fire lit the eastern horizon. When she squinted at the mountain in the dusk, she had the queer sensation that she was being watched. Then she saw it.

There was someone standing on the tallest peak.

A feeling of dread blossomed in her stomach.

“You’ve grown more pale, if that were possible,” the king said in a half-joking manner.