“I will,” Morwenna said, unable to hide the disappointment in her voice.

It was nearly midnight and the fire burned low in the hearth. Trynne sat on one of the couches in her bedchamber, her legs tucked beneath her. She still hadn’t changed out of her gown, and it was tattered and filthy from the events of the day and preceding night. Weariness had made her nod off, the Tay al-Ard still clutched in her hand. She had examined it, trying to understand how it worked and the magic that had formed it. If only she had her mother’s memory. No doubt there was some ancient legend divulging the history of these magical devices. She brushed some hair behind her ear and chewed on her lip, deep in thought.

An idea had been simmering in her mind since Morwenna had returned to Kingfountain. She was so tired, she wasn’t sure her plan was particularly wise. She tapped the cylinder against her palm. When Gahalatine thought someone was useful to him, he took that person directly to the Forbidden Court. He had done so with King Sunilik. The Wizr who had brought him to Chandigarl had used the Tay al-Ard to do so. It sounded like Queen Elysabeth had been moved the same way, to the same city. That meant Gahalatine respected her and thought she might prove useful to him. Iago had been put on board a ship, which meant he was of little value to the emperor. Gahalatine had also sent three Wizrs to Ploemeur to capture Trynne. Perhaps they’d feared Sinia would return to defend her ancient duchy. Or maybe they’d feared Trynne.

She pinched the bridge of her nose to try to stay awake. She’d never felt so tired and spent. Hundreds had perished in the attack on Ploemeur. But most of the deaths had been among the invaders, who were now stranded in Brythonica. The Chandigarli leaders she had spoken to throughout the day had been humbled by her mercy and generosity. They didn’t see Trynne as an enemy. They had set sail for Kingfountain under the impression it was a benighted realm with corrupt leadership. That the people were living in misery.

They saw for themselves that it was not true of Brythonica. Was Gahalatine just as misguided? Or could he have knowingly given his people a false pretext for the invasion?

Gahalatine was young and handsome, perhaps ten years older than her, full of energy and vigor. There was no questioning his ambition, and his successes and his power with the Fountain had emboldened him. He’d taken over the oasis despite knowing the king was good and true, something that bothered her, but he’d also shown signs of fierce intelligence. Nobility. Was he truly the enemy? Or were the men who were guiding him the problem?