The Forsaken Throne

Book 6: Kingfountain

by Jeff Wheeler

Genres: Historical Fantasy; Epic Fantasy; Coming of Age; Fantasy action & adventure; Arthurian; Romantic Fantasy; Sword & Sorcery; Young adult; YA Epic Fantasy; YA Coming of Age

Synopsis

In the thrilling conclusion to the Wall Street Journal bestselling Kingfountain Series, a conflicted champion must navigate a treacherous world to secure the peace.

A devastating disaster has left the Forbidden Court in ashes, its fountains destroyed, and its magic at risk. It was destined as the site of Trynne Kiskaddon's coronation as empress. Now, all Trynne can imagine is the roar of flames, the cries of Gahalatine's people, and the smell of cinders in a city gone dark. Tragic as the threat to Kingfountain is, it's nowhere near as foul as the treachery posed by Morwenna. Saboteur, conspirator, and full-blood sister of the king, she is prepared to set forth a wave of destruction that will eliminate everything that stands between her and possession of the throne.

But Trynne has her weapons, too—her magic, her resilience, her skills at intrigue, and especially, Fallon. The man who once swore his allegiance to Morwenna now stands by Trynne's side as they venture into the unknown to protect those they love, reunite with a family scattered by diabolical forces, and safeguard a kingdom…as well as the destiny the Fountain has for each of them.

Release date: November 14, 2017

Publisher: 47North

Print pages: 325

Sample

CHAPTER ONE

The Assizes

A month had passed since the Battle of the Kings. The feeling in the audience hall was somber as the members of King Drew’s council sat around the Ring Table in the palace of Kingfountain. They had gathered today to decide the fate of a criminal and a traitor.

Trynne Kiskaddon sat next to the king in the seat called the Siege Perilous, reserved for his champion. It had once belonged to Trynne’s father. She still remembered where she had been standing, years before, when the Fountain had whispered to her that she would one day sit in that seat. A shudder passed over her at the thought. She had never wanted it. And now she would have to help the king pass judgment on two people whose trespasses had shaped her life: Dragan and Morwenna.

Dragan was her father’s enemy. A Fountain-blessed thief who’d not only attacked her, but had also played a role in her father’s abduction. And Morwenna . . . the king’s blood-sister had admitted to trying to sabotage Trynne’s family. She’d also committed treason against her own brother.

King Drew had given the task of judging the Assizes to Lord Amrein, the master of the Espion and the king’s chancellor. Lord Amrein had spent countless hours interviewing witnesses, seeking to reconstruct the events of the last few months, and now he was presenting evidence to the council while they ate from trays brought stealthily in by servants, and sipped from gilded cups. Together, they would decide the fate of the prisoners, and then the king would render his judgment.

Though Trynne had seen it countless times, the majestic Ring Table, hewn from a tree so massive it took up the majority of the audience hall, never failed to impress her. And yet the others’ stern expressions, revealed by the flickering flames of the torches mounted in sconces on the walls, were a reminder that none of them wished to be there.

Most of the chairs were full. The King and Queen of Atabyrion were both present. Trynne had rescued Lady Evie from Chandigarl herself, and Trynne’s husband, Gahalatine, had dispatched one of his Wizrs to retrieve Iago from a ship that still had yet to make it to the Forbidden Court. It almost made Trynne smile to think about how upset Iago had been to miss all the action at Dundrennan. He had complained vocally about it until his wife, rather patiently, had suggested he count his blessings instead. Atabyrion had been attacked and defeated, and now engineers and builders from Chandigarl were reconstructing the defenses and beginning improvements on the harbor.

Iago and Lady Evie held hands as they listened to the evidence of the case. That simple evidence of their love for each other made the chair next to Trynne, the one meant for her own husband, feel more conspicuously empty.

She glanced at the others at the table, at the Dukes of East Stowe and Southport. Finally, her gaze found Fallon, brooding as he stared at Lord Amrein, his face a mixture of pain and anger. His eyes shifted to meet hers, betraying deep suffering. They had not spoken since the battle. He had remained in Dundrennan to guard Morwenna and Dragan and had then escorted the prisoners to Kingfountain under heavy guard.

To prevent Morwenna from escaping, Gahalatine had revealed the use of the astrolabe—a device that he and many of his people wore around their necks. It was a metal ring of sorts surrounded with spokes, almost like a sunburst in appearance. But its purpose was to enable the wearer to see the invisible ley lines. Armed with them, Morwenna’s guards had been able to ensure she was kept away from the ley lines, thus preventing her from using her Fountain magic to escape. She had promised to submit to the judgment of the council, declaring that she had been a pawn of the Wizr Rucrius, whose control over her was now gone.

Trynne looked away from Fallon, wondering if she should try to speak to him following the meeting. She was preparing to go to Chandigarl to participate in the coronation ceremony that would officially make her Gahalatine’s queen. She was nervous and excited, and part of her wanted to share those emotions with Fallon—as a friend. She hoped that her marriage would help him finally overcome his feelings for her. Now that she was wed to another, she had forced her own feelings for him into a cage deep inside her.

“I think the facts of the case,” Lord Amrein said as he paced around the Ring Table, drawing near to where she was sitting and capturing her attention, “are confusing and muddled at best. I have no fewer than twelve witnesses who swear the man in custody is the thief Dragan. We have the sworn word of Duke Fallon, who lured and trapped him.” His tone showed his respect. “I must give you credit, lad. For all my resources with the Espion, I couldn’t do it.”

Trynne shot a look at Fallon, who shrugged as if the compliment meant little to him. He made no reply.

“The problem, as I explained,” Lord Amrein continued, “is that the man has suffered a strange form of amnesia. He does not know his own name. He has no idea where he is from. Curiously, he still has the ability to steal, and every time the Espion searches him, they find small things he has stolen from his jailors here in the palace. He’s being held in Holistern Tower at the moment, awaiting the judgment of this council.”

Duke Ramey leaned forward in his seat with a disbelieving scowl. “Is there really any point debating this? The man is a thief and a liar. He tried to kill Lord Owen. Throw him in the river and let’s be done with it. Next case.”

“We can’t throw him in the river,” Lady Evie said, shaking her head. “He’s Fountain-blessed.”

Duke Ramey reddened. “Maybe we could try several times,” he said with a hint of malice. “Or fill the boat with chains.”

Iago smirked at the statement. “I can’t say I disagree with the sentiment,” he said with his amiable brogue. “The only good serpent is a dead one, but why risk executing a Fountain-blessed in the river? Should we not take the man to the mountaintop and let him freeze? Is there anyone at the table who objects? Based on all the things Lord Kevan has told us, some of which I didn’t even know, the man is a villain. Let’s get to the king’s sister. That’s the more perplexing case we must decide.”

Duke Ramey gently thumped his fist on the Ring Table and then pointed to King Iago, nodding in agreement.

Silence hung in the room for a while as Lord Amrein looked from person to person. “Does anyone intend to speak up in favor of the condemned . . . ?” he said, his voice full of assurance that no one would.

Trynne felt as off-balance as if she were aboard a ship in a storm. She had been invited to witness the interrogation, and to her soul, she did not believe that Dragan was lying. When he looked at her, there was no recognition in his eyes. He’d asked a guard who she was and how he’d wronged her.

Trynne cleared her voice. “My lords,” she said, wondering if she were being foolish. “I know we went through the evidence already. I am one of the witnesses who identified the man.” She sighed, rubbing her palms across the table. “When I captured Rucrius, he told me something that has haunted me ever since. My father is alive, he said, but he has forgotten his family completely. He doesn’t even know his own name. Rucrius claimed that we have no comprehension of the power that the Wizrs of Chandigarl possess.” She interlaced her fingers. “My husband has been searching for an answer to this riddle. Lord Fallon and I both believe Dragan was complicit in my father’s abduction. He admitted as much. Before we condemn him to death, can we not defer the decision until we find some means of restoring his memory? It feels . . . unjust to condemn a man who has no knowledge of his crimes. And if we do discover a way to restore his memory, there may still be some use left in him.”

They were all looking at her. They could see the evidence of Dragan’s mistreatment of her on her face. Her smiles were all crooked, her left cheek still slack because of how he had injured her as a child. That she, of all people, was speaking out for him had affected them. A hush fell in the room.

“That is very noble of you, Trynne,” Lady Evie said with a tone of respect. “I think we all want to see him punished because of what he did to your father. What he did to you.”

Trynne nodded in agreement. “I’m expecting Gahalatine to arrive any day now. Can we not wait until he arrives to see if he has brought us any new information from the Wizrs?”

Lord Amrein walked to his seat, returning to the leather folder containing the notes he’d compiled. “I don’t think we have any disagreement as to the man’s guilt or a suitable punishment. We will leave the matter to the king’s discretion.” He looked at Drew and nodded deferentially.

Drew glanced at his wife, who leaned in close to whisper something in his ear. He nodded and then reached for Trynne’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze before he released it. “I trust your judgment, Trynne. More than you know. Lord Amrein, keep him confined to the tower. For the time being.”

Lord Amrein bowed stiffly. “Very well. Now we must discuss the case of your blood-sister, Morwenna.” He let out a deep sigh and shook his head. “This one will not be as easy. But it is our duty to decide guilt and to recommend punishment.” He clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace again. “Morwenna Argentine, daughter of Severn Argentine, conspired with the Mandaryn and the Wizrs of the East Kingdoms to overthrow her brother and place herself on the throne of Kingfountain. There is ample evidence of her collusion with them, as I have discussed in great detail with many of you during our interviews. This is treason. There can be no other charge suitable for such crimes.”

Lord Amrein interrupted his pacing and wagged his finger. “There are, however, many factors to be considered. She testifies that she was under the sway of the Wizrs, controlled by a powerful ring given to her by Rucrius. Without Lady Sinia or Myrddin to confirm or reject her claim, we are flummoxed. Lord Gahalatine took the ring with him to Chandigarl and is seeking answers. But we will likely never have conclusive proof that she was willingly complicit.” He paused and looked at those assembled. Trynne noticed that Fallon was pale, his fists clenched, his eyes serious. He was emotionally invested in the outcome. While he had testified against Morwenna, openly revealing his knowledge of her actions against king and realm, Trynne had found some of his clothes in a chest under Morwenna’s bed in the poisoner’s tower. How compromised was he?

She told herself it was none of her business. As a married woman, she had no reason to care about Fallon’s romantic life. And yet . . . she did.

Lord Amrein held up his hands. “It’s undeniable that her aid during the battle saved many lives, but it is my opinion as chief justice that we should view her collusion with the enemy, regardless of coercion, in the harshest light. Is it possible that she was a complete pawn of Rucrius? Yes. But the evidence suggests that she was a willing participant.”

An awful feeling of dread came into the room. Trynne squirmed in her seat. She herself felt conflicted about Morwenna. Lord Amrein’s position was not an enviable one.

The chancellor paused and riffled through his papers. “It is my suggestion, based on the evidence, that Morwenna Argentine fell in league with Rucrius at the poisoner school in Pisan. My interviews with Lady Trynne and others suggest that this happened shortly after she began attending the school, when she was very young and malleable. By all accounts, she excelled at her studies—one of the brightest to have passed through that school in a generation. There is no doubt she was ambitious and determined. It is my belief that Rucrius began grooming her to be a double agent for the East Kingdoms. The Mandaryn were charged with finding a suitable bride for Gahalatine, and based on the evidence, it seems they settled on Morwenna. The king entrusted her to visit Chandigarl on multiple occasions. She could have easily used this as an opportunity to provide information to both sides. I do not believe it was her intent to destroy her brother.” He held up his finger as he made that point. “No, based on Gahalatine’s reputation for supplanting rulers and reassigning them, she may have justified her treason in her own heart and mind with the knowledge that King Andrew would not be killed but sent elsewhere.” He tapped his finger on the solid table. “But it is still the crime of treason.”

“Are you suggesting that we execute the king’s sister?” Iago said in apparent disbelief.

Lord Amrein pursed his lips. “I am not. There is another suitable punishment that does not require her death.”

“What then?” Iago asked. “Speak up, man!”

“Attainder,” Lady Evie said, sitting forward, her eyes twinkling. “That’s what he is going to suggest.”

Trynne blinked in surprise, but the answer fit—it seemed an ideal solution.

“My lady, yes,” Lord Amrein said with a chuckle. “I think your knowledge of history exceeds even that of Master Urbino. Do not tell him that I said so, if you please. Yes, she is correct. A bill of attainder against Morwenna Argentine would strip her of all rights, lands, and privileges of her noble blood. It would not preclude her from inheriting, say, lands in Atabyrion, or anything else from her mother’s line. But it would strip her of all rights to the throne of Ceredigion. It would, in essence, remove the opportunity in the future of her ever becoming queen.”

Some murmuring began around the table as the peers of the realm began considering the solution.

Lady Evie spoke up. “Normally attainder follows a crime of treason or felony. For example, if a member of the nobility arranged a murder against another peer—not the king, but a peer—a bill of attainder could be passed to strip away the rights of the criminal’s spouse and heirs before he or she is sent into the river. What you are suggesting is the same legal precedence, only there would be no execution.”

“Precisely,” Lord Amrein said with a bow. “It protects the king’s interests while showing compassion for his sister.”

“Brilliant,” Duke Ramey muttered, nodding vigorously.

“But she’ll not continue serving as his poisoner,” Iago said, tapping his fingers on the wooden round, shaking his head vehemently.

Lord Amrein nodded in agreement. “Clearly not,” he answered. “She would be confined to an estate, a castle, for example, that could not . . . be reached easily.” His underlying meaning was clear—she would not be allowed near the ley lines. Banished, in essence. “She seems . . . contrite. She’s cooperated fully with my investigation. Then again, she may be trying to avoid execution.”

“Attainder,” Duke Ramey said, knocking his knuckles on the table.

There was unity in the decision. Trynne felt a twinge of relief, but it was accompanied by a feeling of foreboding. Where could they keep someone like Morwenna? Someone both powerful and dangerous? It seemed like no genteel prison could hold her.

A loud knock sounded at the door and the king’s herald entered. “Lord Gahalatine of the East Kingdoms,” he announced before sweeping the door open to introduce Trynne’s husband.

Trynne’s heart thrilled when she saw him march into the audience hall, but the feeling was instantly extinguished when she saw the look on his face. There were soot stains on his cheek and his eyes were wells of grief and raw anger. Trynne pushed away from her chair and rose. Something awful had happened.

Seeing her seemed only to aggravate his wounds. There was no look of love in his eyes now. His nostrils flared, his lips curled with contempt. She sensed his Fountain magic was nearly spent.

“My lord, what is wrong?” Drew asked, rising also from his chair.

Trynne approached Gahalatine, reaching out to touch him, but he glared at her, as if warning her not to draw too near. Flakes of ash covered his cloak and his hair. His hands were red and blistered.

Gahalatine’s emotions were so roiling he could hardly speak. “My city is burning,” he said hoarsely. “The palace is destroyed. My sister . . . is dead.” He tried to speak, but a shudder of emotion stayed his words for a moment. Finally, the words came out in a rush. “Rucrius came. He said the Fountain would punish us for surrendering to you. And then lightning struck. Everything is burning. Burning to ashes.”

CHAPTER TWO

Forbidden Court

Gahalatine’s words, his apparent grief, stunned everyone into silence. Though ambitious, he was a man of honor, not prone to exaggeration or misrepresentation. Trynne and Morwenna had visited the Forbidden Court together to rescue Lady Evie—before Morwenna’s treachery had come to light. Trynne had marveled at the wealth on such ostentatious display. From a stone barge crossing the great lake at the center of the city, she had seen the golden rooftops glittering in the sunlight. Now her mind imagined roaring flames licking at those rooftops, destroying everything in their path. All that beauty and opulence gone. She reached out her hand to touch her husband’s arm, but he stiffened and backed away from her, his look one of repugnance.

“This is indeed tragic news,” Trynne said with concern, cringing at his rebuff. She wanted to comfort him, to try to soothe his grief. She had lost her own brother in a tragedy. She understood the kind of pain he was feeling.

His cold stare sent a shaft of fear into her heart. “Can you even pretend you did not know?” he said in an accusing tone. He looked next at Drew, pinning him with a glare. “Was this not your ruse all along, my lord? Your trickery and deceit? Well, I have sworn myself, and even though it would seem my oaths were made under false pretenses, I am still bound by them.”

Trynne’s fear gave way to terrified panic. “What are you saying? We had nothing to do with this.”

“Indeed not,” Gahalatine countered angrily. “I bear the blame and I accept it, for I trusted you. As I trusted your king.” He glared at Drew. “The Fountain has punished me for my blindness. For abandoning the charge it had tasked me to complete. It was my decision, and I made it willingly. That is why I am so wretched. I was tricked and deceived. By you”—he looked pointedly at Trynne—“and by the sovereign you would do anything to protect. Your loyalty bound you, no doubt. Just as my honor now binds me.”

Trynne felt her cheeks flush with indignation and dread. Her stomach roiled with confusion. “I have done nothing to deceive you, my lord husband! How can you be so changed? You wrong me to accuse me like this.”

Gahalatine’s cheek muscles twitched as he silently shook with emotion. Trynne reached out to him again with her magic, trying to divine if he were an imposter. No illusion had ever worked on her before. Her senses might be fooled, but not her heart. No, this was Gahalatine—injured, furious, and betrayed.

“Did you not tell me that you killed the Wizr Rucrius?” he challenged.

“I did it with my own sword,” Trynne answered firmly.

“I saw him myself!” Gahalatine snapped. “Very much alive and boasting that the two of you have been in league all this while. That he gave you the Fault Staff to enable you to destroy his fleet at Ploemeur. He says that you have it still.” He held up his hands. “What am I to think, Tryneowy? All along, I suspected he was trying to induce me to marry the Argentine girl, but he fooled me into falling in love with you.” His lack of love, the violence in his eyes and voice shook her to her core. She was speechless, dumbfounded, horrified. “He arranged for you to be fed information about my kingdom’s financial straits. I’ve been such a fool. Such a trusting fool. And now the Fountain is punishing me for my arrogance. For my pride. I wed myself to someone far below my station in the hopes of overthrowing the very chains that are now locked about me in every possible way. I rushed into it, heedless of the cliff.”

He turned his brooding gaze to the king and the council seated around the Ring Table. He looked at them each in turn, his gaze full of disgust and loathing. “I only came here to concede my defeat, Your Majesty.” He nearly spat out the words. “My city is still burning. I cannot tell you how many have burned to death in their homes. The devastation is unspeakable.” He quivered again, trembling. “I forfeit my seat at this table. Now I must attend to my suffering people. It was my decision that brought this calamity on them. Farewell.”

“No,” Trynne gasped, reaching out and taking hold of his arm. “This is not true. None of it.”

“Do not touch me!” he roared at her, jerking his arm away. “I loathe the sight of you. Albion, take me back to the zenana at once.”

Trynne’s attention had been so fixed on Gahalatine, she had not noticed the Wizr’s presence. “Yes, my lord,” Albion said, but he wasn’t looking at his emperor. He was looking at her, unable to conceal a victorious grin. It brought her no comfort to learn Gahalatine’s destination. On her short visit to his land, she had sensed a subtle but persistent evil rooted in that place.

Gahalatine glared hotly at Trynne. “I will come for you in Ploemeur when I am ready for you. You are my wife still. Await my coming.”

Trynne watched in horror as the Wizr Albion hooked his finger on Gahalatine’s sleeve and the two vanished through the power of a Tay al-Ard.

The room was spinning as she blindly clutched at her chair. Trynne felt her pulse in her temples, herself at the verge of fainting. This could not be happening. It had to be a nightmare. Surely she’d awaken from it gasping and terrified in her bed.

And yet she did not.

Someone was there, holding her as she trembled. It was the queen, and Genny had a look of grief and fierce concern.

“How dare he?” Genny whispered with almost a growl. She held Trynne, squeezing her tightly, stroking her hair. Trynne couldn’t think. Her mind was whirling as fast as the room.

“I would not have imagined such words coming from such a man as he,” Drew said in disbelief. “He is a man of honor, but he speaks as one convinced that he’s been betrayed. This tragedy has addled his senses.”

“What he did to Trynne was inexcusable,” Genny said, still clinging to her. “I have no doubt that the devastation he depicted is true. Based on what we’ve learned, the buildings in the Forbidden Court are arranged close together. A fire could easily devastate such a place.”

“But what of Rucrius?” Lord Amrein wondered. “I’ve been fixed on that point since he repeated his name. Trynne, you killed him in Pisan—isn’t that true?”

“I did,” she answered, her voice sounding strained in her own ears. She avoided glancing at Fallon. It would be unbearable to see his face at such a moment. “I left his body in the fountain that we appeared in. I can go back there . . .”

“No!” Genny and Drew said in unison.

Lord Amrein shook his head. “That may be exactly what the Wizrs are expecting you to do. You are their greatest threat. I know that some Fountain-blessed can disguise themselves. Isn’t it obvious that someone was impersonating Rucrius? You took off his head, did you not? Forgive me for being sordid, but one cannot be revived from that, correct?”

Trynne swallowed, trying to contain her emotions. “I do not know for certain,” she said, trembling violently. There was a story in The Vulgate, the ancient book of magic, of a man who was enchanted and could be revived after being decapitated. She wanted to be sick. She was afraid it would happen in front of all of them.

“Come sit down,” Genny coaxed, helping her to a nearby bench.

“What purpose could this serve?” Lord Amrein said, tapping his fingers on the table. “Clearly we’re still at war.”

“Or the game is still being played,” Lady Evie said, speaking up. “Another game. One whose rules we don’t know.”

Trynne could still imagine the roar of flames. The cries of Gahalatine’s people. They were her people too. She was their uncrowned queen.

“I must go there,” she murmured, shaking her head.

“To Chandigarl?” Genny asked with concern.

Trynne nodded forcefully. “Don’t you see, Genny? If someone is pretending to be Rucrius, I’m the only one who can unmask him. Gahalatine will not be deceived if I am near him. You saw him. They’ve poisoned his mind, and he abhors me now. He thinks that I tricked him into surrendering. Could it not appear that way to others as well? I must go. Whenever there has been a disaster, the people of Brythonica lend help. We always have. I will send every ship if I must.”

“Not just yours,” Drew said, walking toward her. “I am still his liege lord. We are innocent of these accusations—something we must attest with our actions. We will send relief to Chandigarl. It will take time to get there, but we’d best begin now.” He straightened and pointed to Lord Amrein. “Send word to our captains. We will send food and workers to help rebuild the city.”

The king hadn’t allowed offense to cloud his judgment—and Trynne admired him all the more for it. It was exactly what her father would have done, she thought with a pang.

“I will go there,” Trynne said, squaring her shoulders. “He is not himself, surely. I can help.”

“Not alone,” Genny said, shaking her head. She noticed Fallon rising from his chair, his look intense and incredulous. His clenched fists on the table said much about his worry.

“I must go alone,” Trynne insisted. “He’s my husband. I must resolve this.”

The queen’s eyes still glittered with emotion. Trynne could see the resentment festering there. Genevieve was incensed at Gahalatine’s accusations.

“Go then,” the king said. “Go with the Fountain’s blessings.”

Lord Amrein closed his leather folder. “We will postpone the decision on Morwenna, then, until the next time.”

“No,” the king said grimly. “Write up the bill of attainder now. Morwenna will forfeit all rights and privileges of her rank and station. She will be a ward of the crown. See it done, Kevan.”

“Aye, my lord,” he replied with a sigh. “In the attainder do you grant her the right to marry? As we discussed, it would bar her heirs from assuming the throne.”

Drew looked at him and then nodded brusquely. “But who will want her now?”

* * *

Genevieve walked with Trynne to the chapel, arm in arm. Trynne’s abrupt marital discord had left her feeling hollow. She could see in her mind the pitying looks on the faces of the king’s council. She wanted nothing more than to be alone, but she was determined to face down the imposters and soothe Gahalatine’s misery. It was a trick, a deception. Nearly any Wizr had the ability to disguise themselves. Trynne had seen Rucrius take on the guise of King Drew, and she herself possessed a ring that could change her appearance at will. Morwenna had a similar artifact, although Fallon had confiscated it.

At the thought, the darker part of her feelings bloomed. Had Fallon known something about this through his Espion connections and not told her?

“Where will you go first?” Genny asked softly as they reached the chapel entryway, guarded by the king’s knights.

“The ley line going east can be reached from the south. I was planning to go to Marq first and then join the east–west line. I wish I had evidence of Rucrius’s death, but I don’t dare go to Pisan. I’m sure the poisoner school must have found his body.”

“They may have hidden it,” Genny said thoughtfully, “not wanting to be implicated in his death.”

“True,” Trynne said with a sigh. She stepped over the rail and into the waters, which radiated away from her without soaking her. Soon, she stood on a circle of dry tiles.

“Be careful,” Genny said. She clutched a hand to her own bosom and looked forlornly at Trynne.

“I will,” she answered. Then, closing her eyes, she thought the word that would transport her away. Kennesayrim.

The rush of the Fountain magic surrounded her and she was falling, embraced by the power and transporting herself through the ley lines across the world, bouncing from city to city in a blur. In her mind, she remembered the fountain that she and Morwenna had visited together on their journey to the Forbidden Court. It would be dark in Chandigarl. She could imagine smelling the cinders.

The magic ebbed much more quickly than she had anticipated. She blinked, finding herself standing in the fountain at the Chandleer Oasis. The fountain was calm, and glowing stones lit the floor, making the water shimmer blue. The ley lines had only taken her part of the way.

She summoned the word of power again, willing herself to go east, only to be thwarted by the magic. There was nothing there. It was as if a wall had been put in front of her.

The fountains had been destroyed. The ley lines were blocked.

The whisper from the magic brought the dreadful realization. The fountains had all been destroyed. The Wizrs were cutting off access to the Forbidden Court from the rest of the world. There was no way she could quickly intercede. In fact, she could not go to Chandigarl at all. A voyage there took months, and she had sworn to her mother that she would maintain the protections of Brythonica. If she left to see her husband, her people would drown.

His angry words throbbed in her heart.

Await my coming.

He’d left her with no choice.