A poisoner could do it. Her father had told her of the properties of nightshade and how Ankarette had used it to learn information from people. Afterward, he’d said, the people who had divulged their secrets did not even recall doing so.

Morwenna. Even though Trynne did not trust her, she might still be useful.

The rush of the Fountain swept through Trynne as she left Ploemeur with Rucrius. As they shot through the ley lines, she felt the Wizr battle her for control of the destination and experienced a wrenching feeling that tried to pull her along the southern line instead of the eastern one. His will was strong, but his magic could not force her to abandon her desire or her goal. She could not be brought off course by his disruption.

They appeared inside the gurgling waters of one of the palace’s fountains.

As they stood in the waters, Trynne wrenched Rucrius’s arm behind his back at an angle that was excruciatingly painful. His brow wrinkled, but he kept himself from grimacing. She could see that he resented the indignity of being roughly treated by her.

“You will submit and walk with me side by side,” Trynne said, “or I will knock you unconscious myself and have soldiers drag you in front of my king in a heap.”

Rucrius glowered at her, but he could not speak. His mouth was gagged to prevent him from uttering any words of power. There was no torchlight in the small chapel, so his eyes no longer glowed like a cat’s. He inclined his head submissively, but his cheek twitched.

Trynne stepped over the rim of the fountain and they were immediately met by knights wearing the livery of the Sun and Rose.

“Lady Trynne!” one of them said, gawking in surprise when he saw her prisoner.

“Where is the king?” she asked, starting to march down the corridor, her hand gripping Rucrius’s fingers. It was easier to control someone that way; she could immobilize the Wizr quickly if he tried another rash act. Her heart was still palpitating from their struggle along the ley lines. Had she not been anticipating such an act, she may have found herself in the Forbidden Court.

“He’s at the Ring Table,” the soldier answered. He barked a quick command, and one of the knights ran ahead.

Being away from Ploemeur gave Trynne a feeling of vulnerability. She had warned the palace staff to keep her departure a secret. While the other survivors of the shipwrecks did not seem like a threat, she worried that the fleet from Legault would swoop down on them next. The protection she owed her people weighed heavily on her.