Inside, there was a corridor lined with cells. None were occupied except for Rucrius’s. After claiming the armor and weapons of Gahalatine’s army and bringing them to the palace, she had made sure that each survivor was assigned a place to stay. She had entrusted the leaders to the noble families in Ploemeur, who would keep them separated but treat them with courtesy and respect. But Rucrius was an enemy who needed to be kept nearby.

As she approached, she found him pacing in his cell, hands clasped behind his back. There was a stack of folded clothes on a chair, a new tunic and pants in the Brythonican fashion, but Rucrius still wore his ruined vestments. His jewelry and weapons had all been taken away. She summoned her magic and reached out to him, trying to sense his stores.

He noticed her prodding immediately and rushed up to the bars, gripping them with his hands.

“You dare test me?” he growled, his face contorted with anger.

Trynne was grateful he was in a cage. He had no weapon, but her instincts told her that he was dangerous.

Even so, she ignored his angry remark and continued to prod him. His reserves were still depleted, but they were growing again. Somehow, though he was doing nothing more than pacing in his cell, something was feeding him.

Trynne stood apart from him, far enough that she was out of reach. His eyes went from gazing hotly at hers to glancing down her body to the cylinder in her girdle. His eyebrows twitched with fury as he stared hungrily at it. He wanted it back with a fierce desperation. She had no doubt he would kill her to get it.

She wondered what sort of power his access to the magic gave him, but doubted he would reveal the truth to her intentionally.

“Where did Gahalatine strike? You said last night he would strike in four places at once. Brythonica obviously. Where else?” She knew about Legault, of course, but she wished to see if he would be truthful.

His hands squeezed the bars until his knuckles were white, his brows narrowed scornfully. “Connacht in Legault, Marq in Brugia, and, of course, Edonburick. I tell you this not because I am disloyal to Gahalatine. I am not. I say this because it takes your kingdoms pitifully long to communicate, and you will undoubtedly hear this same news later.”

He was trying to provoke her, and she knew it. “Then no doubt news of your defeat will also travel quickly.”

His teeth clenched and his body trembled with rage. “You will not have power over me for long. Do you intend to execute me? You would be wise to release me. If you give me that scroll, I can be of greater service to you than you can possibly imagine.”

“I doubt you would keep your word,” Trynne said. “I have some questions for you.”