“I am here,” Morwenna said, shutting the paneled door behind her. She had just entered the room from one of the secret Espion passages, her hair windblown. She gazed at Rucrius in surprise. “Where is your staff, Wizr?” she asked, despite his inability to respond.

“I took it from him,” Trynne answered. The way Morwenna had asked about it disturbed her.

Severn’s daughter blinked as she turned. “Well done, Trynne. In my errands to the East, I learned that Rucrius was the Wizr entrusted with the Fault Staff. It is a relic with great power.”

“It is safe where I have hidden it,” Trynne answered vaguely. She did not mention the Tay al-Ard. She did not trust Morwenna to be alone with Rucrius and would have objected if the king hadn’t demanded that Kevan also be present at the inquisition. Her father had always trusted the master of the Espion.

“What would you have me do, Brother?” Morwenna asked, smiling at him. “You were going to send for me?”

“Go with Lord Amrein and take Rucrius to Holistern. See that he is fed, but do not allow him to speak. We will discuss his fate in council.”

“As you will, my lord,” Morwenna said with a bow. Lord Amrein summoned a group of knights, and together they left through the door of the audience hall. Trynne saw Fallon rise from his chair and whisper something to Morwenna. The poisoner nodded briefly before leaving with the group that had fallen in around the prisoner. Rather than sit down, Fallon leaned against the back of his chair. As Trynne stared at him, she felt distrust welling up from deep inside her.

“Trynne, how did you do it?” Genevieve asked, coming toward her, concern nakedly evident on her face. “The fleet . . . Gahalatine . . . how? All the other places that were attacked crumpled.”

She was still weary from all the work they’d done to rescue the survivors, exhausted from the lack of sleep. She met Genny with a gentle hug, careful not to press against the baby.

“Gahalatine’s fleet was disrupted by a rogue wave that struck our shores,” she said, not wanting to reveal the full truth in front of the gathered audience. Of those present, the only people she felt she could trust without reserve were the king and queen. “Our navy was patrolling outside the cove when it struck. I consider it a blessing from the Deep Fathoms that protected us.” What she said was truthful. But she withheld the rest to be told later in confidence.

Turning to face the king, she said, “Rucrius confessed that Gahalatine struck Atabyrion, Legault, Brythonica, and the capital of Brugia . . . Marq. How did those other attacks happen? Marq especially, as it is accessible by river, but not by an entire fleet.”

Drew’s exultant look diminished. “Lord Elwis?” he said, waving his hand with a gesture of weariness.