The Hollow Crown (Kingfountain #4)(26)

And yet it did not make her wish to be a Wizr.

In the two and a half years she had been painstakingly studying The Vulgate, she had come to realize that it would take a lifetime to read it all. She had scarcely read four volumes in all that time, and the rest seemed like a gargantuan task that she just didn’t have the heart to conquer. Why did sword fighting come more easily to her? Why was she reluctant to push her mind the same way she did her body? Every person had an aptitude for something. Trynne was different from her mother.

Realizing it was nearly the end of her study time, she marked the page with a ribbon and closed the book. She stretched her arms and then her back, feeling a little soreness in her ribs from the morning’s workout. After wandering over to the hearth, she removed two pokers from the rack and began twirling them into the hourglass pattern before ducking them behind her back in the flower drill. It was a drill she had performed hundreds of times and she could do it quickly with iron bars, swords, or even staves. Captain Staeli had taught her that speed could compensate for strength and size and had hammered into her mind that she needed to be faster than her opponents in all cases.

Because of her training and exercise, the iron skewers were easy to maneuver, and she loved the grace and simplicity of the twirling movement. The metal implements felt like an extension of her body. Her shoulders rocked back and forth as she twisted to complement the motion, listening to the swish and hum of the iron as it sped past her ears. It was a glorious feeling, and while she continued it, she felt the Fountain filling her, bringing a sense of wonder and thrill. She still loved playing Wizr, and the game still fed her power as well, but the early mornings in the training yard were special to her. She never dreaded going and she always pushed Captain Staeli to teach her more.

There was a sound at the door, and Trynne hastily returned the pokers to the rack as the latch clicked. It was not her mother, thankfully, but one of the palace servants sent to tell her that her mother was awaiting her at the chapel.

Trynne thanked her and rubbed her arms, feeling alive and giddy with the thought of her plans that night. She was to travel to Kingfountain to sup with her father.

The halls of the castle sped past as she hurried to the chapel where Sinia would be waiting. Trynne hadn’t discovered any words of power in her studies that day, but she was so distracted it was likely she would have missed them anyway.

Upon reaching the chapel, she heard the gentle pattering of the fountain. It was a solemn place, and it inspired Trynne’s reverence. Her mother was indeed waiting there, standing by the stone plinth whereon a different book sat. The book was not kept in the library; when not in use, it was concealed inside the waters of the fountain, yet it never got wet or even soggy. Only someone who was Fountain-blessed could summon it, if they knew it was there, and draw it out of the waters.

Trynne approached on soft feet, anxious to get a peek at the page her mother was looking at. Her mother was impossibly beautiful, something Trynne knew she would never be. She loved her mother deeply and passionately, but she was a little awed by her too. Sinia was the epitome of womanhood, or so Trynne thought, and she could never compare. Her mother wouldn’t sneak into the training yard or spend hours fantasizing about a dream that could never be. No, her mother was a woman of profound responsibility.

Glancing over her mother’s shoulder, she spied the map with its maze of ley lines. The book was a priceless treasure, for few kingdoms had sufficient detail of their own domains let alone the domains of others. Trynne saw the jagged coastlines of the various kingdoms and spied the spiderlike scrawl of inky letters spelling the names of Brugia, Occitania, Ceredigion, Atabyrion, and Leoneyis. It was an ancient map, created before the latter kingdom had been flooded by the Deep Fathoms for failing to live up to the covenants of the magic.

What made this map different from ones Trynne had seen in the library were the ley lines. The map was not marked by a grid showing north, south, east, and west. Instead, there were ley lines drawn across the pages. At some points, like at Ploemeur and Kingfountain, there was a clustering of ley lines, like wagon spokes. Those clustering locations typically marked a place where the Fountain magic was the strongest. They were concentrated points of significance, usually on the borders between the sea and land.

“Hello, Trynne,” Sinia said, turning and greeting her with a sad smile. In the years since the king’s wedding, Sinia had often brooded over her husband’s fate. She was quick to smile and show concern for others, but often reverted back to thoughtful silence. “Are you ready to go to Kingfountain?”

“What were you looking at?” Trynne asked, joining her by the plinth. The book was a closely guarded secret. Just Myrddin, Sinia, Owen, and Trynne knew of it, and Trynne had been included only because she was training to be a Wizr. Myrddin was the one who had drawn the map with the ley lines during his many travels. Just looking at all the fine details filled Trynne with wonder.

She glanced down at the page and traced the ley line from Ploemeur to Kingfountain. A Wizr, using the magic summoned by the correct word of power, could travel to any point along the line nearly instantaneously. From Ploemeur, she could travel to Pree, Tatton Hall, Dundrennan, or Kingfountain. She’d been tempted more than once to suddenly appear at Dundrennan to surprise Fallon, who had been named the Duke of North Cumbria on his eighteenth birthday. They hadn’t met since parting that afternoon years before, and Trynne longed to see him again. She wondered if he was even taller now.