Messengers had been loosed ahead of them to warn Evie of the danger, but Owen had insisted on riding at once. After hearing what Owen had learned in his confrontation with Tunmore, Severn had not only permitted it—he’d chosen to join him. They rode like thunder and lightning, a storm that swept across the kingdom in a sea of black flags bearing the white boar. Owen’s confrontation with Tunmore played itself over and over in his mind. Facing another Fountain-blessed had been intimidating, but the young duke believed the deconeus had come away even more shaken by the encounter. He remembered Ankarette saying that Tunmore had been her mentor. The man had tutored her in the arts of deception and court intrigue, just as the king had trained Owen after Ankarette’s death. But Tunmore was not the adversary he had once been; his well of magic was nearly dry, and he had been deprived of opportunities to replenish it fully. Their company changed horses frequently to gain more ground. The king had brought five hundred men and mounted archers.
