'When you're king you can build him another stable.' Orrade opened the window. Night had fallen while they spoke and stars silvered the thatch. 'Don't make your move until I come back.'
Byren nodded, fully intending to slip down the stairs and watch from the shadows. He didn't want the boys killed before he could rescue them.
Orrade frowned. 'I know you, you'll -'
'Just go. Time's a wasting. They could be losing fingers while we talk.'
With Orrade gone, he went to the door. No one had brought the Merofynian leader's travel kit upstairs. They were probably too intent on the prisoners.
Opening the door a fraction, Byren peered down the short hallway. Only two other rooms gave off it on the other side. When they didn't have customers, the tavern keeper and his family slept up here. Tonight they would sleep under the kitchen table, if they slept at all. Byren hoped they and the other villagers escaped this night unscathed.
He went to open the door fully, just as the tavern keeper's son came up the stairs with several travel kits slung over his shoulders.
The boy caught Byren's eye, stiffened, then kept coming. He slipped into the room, divesting himself of the largest travelling kit.
'Lord Cobalt has two prisoners, both monks,' the boy reported, then shuddered. 'He's ordered the tap-room fire built up.'
'That's not Cobalt,' Byren said. 'And don't you worry about the monks. When the fighting starts, get out. Hide in the hills. Tell the villagers.'
He nodded and left. Byren waited for a moment, then headed for the stairs. Voices speaking Merofynian drifted up to him. He silently thanked his mother for making sure he spoke the languages of both Rolencia's trading partners.
From what Byren could hear, the Merofynians had begun drinking already. Pity they weren't about to drink themselves senseless. No, they'd be too eager to discover what the monks knew.
He shuffled lower, coming to the last bend, only six steps stretching below him to the tap-room. From up here, he couldn't see much, mainly men's backs. They faced the open fireplace. Presumably the monks were being held in front of it. The men-at-arms' rough, mocking voices told him they enjoyed baiting the two youths.
How long must he wait for Orrade to organise the others?
Byren fingered his sword hilt, reminded of how he'd had to leave Elina in Palatyne's bed while Dovecote's defenders prepared to strike. That had sorely tested him, and even though he did not know the monks this was no easier.
A shout from the rear of the tavern reached Byren, but the Merofynians were too engrossed to notice.
'Lord Cobalt, Lord Cobalt?' The tavern keeper himself came running in. 'There's a problem with the horses. Something spooked them. They've broken through the fence!'
Byren could imagine the Merofynian leader's annoyance. The man masquerading as Cobalt sent half the men out to catch the horses. It was clear from his voice that he did not realise this was an attack.
Now that there were fewer men, Byren could see the Merofynian leader seated on the end of a long table, one boot swinging, as one of his men added fuel to the fire. 'Yes, build it up. Get that poker nice and hot. I want it glowing.'
The shouts from outside changed tone, becoming more frantic. A man came running into the tap room. 'The stable's on fire.'
The Merofynian leader shoved himself to his feet. 'The kingsheir has made his move. Come on.'
All of them raced out, leaving Byren a clear view of the two monks tied to chairs in front of the fire. The moment the Merofynians left, the monks began to struggle against their bonds. They broke off to stare at Byren as he came down the stairs, crossing the tap-room.
'Byren Kingsheir?' the familiar one gasped. 'Am I glad to see you!'
Byren grinned and knelt beside him to cut the ropes, then dealt with the other one's bonds.
Someone charged through the kitchen, throwing the door open.
Byren spun to his feet, sword drawn. He couldn't believe his eyes. 'Florin?'
'There you are!' She darted between the tables and scattered chairs, unabashed. 'Quick, out the front door. Orrie has sent them on a mad goose chase, so our people can ambush them in the trees, but some stayed behind to rescue horses from the stables, and the leader took some men and went in search of you. He'll be back when he can't find you.'
'Right.' Byren turned to the two monks. 'Can you run?'
'We ran behind the horses since lunch time,' the skinny one with a protruding Adam's apple said. 'But we can run if we have to.'
Byren headed for the door, throwing it open, only to find Cobalt's imposter there with a half a dozen men at his back. He slammed it shut, but not before one of them got his shoulder into the gap.
'Out the back,' Byren yelled.
But before Florin could get the monks out the kitchen door, it opened and several soot-stained men came running in. Seeing the monks free, they charged.
'To the stairs,' Byren yelled.
Florin ran, the Merofynians at her heels. Byren followed, slashing at the nearest warrior, who tried to block his way. Then he was running up the dim stairwell, expecting a knife in his back at any moment.
At the top of the steps Florin ran down the hall, thrusting doors open.
'The one on the right,' Byren yelled.
She darted inside, followed by the monks. Byren joined them, slamming the door shut, cutting off the vision of Merofynians tearing down the narrow hall towards them.
'Help me drag the chest of drawers,' Florin gasped.
The monks took over and she directed them to shove it against the door. Meanwhile, Byren thrust the window open.
The yard was empty.
The chest of drawers jerked as men threw their weight at the door.
'It's not going to hold,' Florin said.
Byren beckoned. 'Over here. Quickly.' The monks joined him. 'Out the window, slide down the thatch, jump to the ground.'
They nodded, the skinny one going first, then the other. The chest of drawers screeched as it was shoved aside.
Florin glanced back to Byren. 'You go. I'll cover you.'
But Byren wasn't having that. He swept her off her feet and dropped her out the window, onto the roof. She slid down and off the end with a cry of annoyance.
The door burst open behind him. Byren swung his leg over the sill and let go. The last thing he saw was five men racing into the room, swords drawn. Then he was sliding down the thatch. He hit the ground with his knees bent. His stomach protested, reminding him it wasn't so long since he'd been wounded.
Orrade rode up bare-back, leading three horses. The monks clambered onto one, riding double. Florin scrambled atop another horse. Byren reached for the last one, but it danced away, frightened. Someone crashed off the roof behind him, crying in pain as he landed badly. Another followed. By then, Byren was astride the horse and headed across the ford, into the forest.
From there, it was a mad dash through the night on starlit tracks, as the sounds of pursuit faded. Twenty minutes later, Orrade called a halt and the horses snorted and stamped, shivering with excitement.
Byren met his friend's eyes with a laugh. 'Your arrival was well timed.'
'The whole thing was a disaster!' Orrade muttered. 'I don't know where our people are. Hopefully, they ambushed a few Merofynians, then melted into the trees.'
'We're safe for now,' Byren said. 'Their horses are scattered. But they'll be furious. I hope the villagers got away...'
He craned his head. They were on the crest of a ridge. Through the tree canopy, he could see the glow of flames. More than just the stable was burning. 'I think the Merofynians have taken their anger out on Waterford itself.'
Orrade urged his horse closer. 'You're right. Nothing will be left standing. Which means...'
'Another thirty hungry mouths to feed, if they get away safe. Mostly women and children.' Byren sighed. 'Can't be helped. The Merofynians will be searching the foothills but they don't know the tracks like the locals do.'
'Still, this was too close.' Orrade swung his leg over his mount and slid to the ground. 'We don't want the horses. Much better to go on foot. Hide our trail.'
Byren dismounted and went to offer Florin his help before he could stop himself. It was his mother's courtly training. Not that Florin knew that. She saw it as an insult. With a toss of her head, she leapt lightly to the ground.
For some reason this annoyed Byren. 'You nearly got yourself killed back there. Since when does a mountain girl know better than her king? What were you doing, disobeying a direct order?'
Startled by his anger, her eyes widened. Then she tilted her chin and he just knew she was going to back-chat him.
He wanted to grab her and shake her. 'If I give an order I expect it to be obeyed.'
For a heartbeat she stared at him, defiance in the line of her mouth. Byren feared she would openly defy him and then what would he do? Her pride was so prickly. He shouldn't have pushed her.
Before Florin could overstep the line, Byren turned around... to find the two monks kneeling at his feet.
'Byren Kingsheir,' they chorused, slightly out of time. 'We come to serve -'
'Yes, yes. No time for that now.' Byren took their arms and hauled them to their feet. 'You're lucky we were there...' He broke off, because he didn't know their names.
'Feldspar,' the skinny one supplied.
'Joff,' the other said. 'You were at the Hearing, back at midwinter, when -'
'Now I remember. Your Affinity came on you late, and the villagers were angry with your father for keeping it hidden.' He hesitated. It had all seemed so cut and dried then. Now he worked alongside Catillum and dreaded discovery. 'Have you heard from Fyn?'
The two monks exchanged looks.
'We thought he'd be with you,' Feldspar said. 'He left us at the base of Mount Halcyon, headed back to Rolenhold to warn your father that the abbey had fallen.'
'Same old news,' Orrade muttered.
Byren hid his concern. 'Right, we'd better get moving. Orrie, you bring up the rear. Florin, you take the lead. You know the paths.'
Her eyes glittered strangely in the starlight and, when she spoke, her voice was husky. 'Of course, my king.'
She'd never called him that before.
With a jolt, Byren realised she meant it as an insult. Before he could think of a thing to say, she turned and strode off, long legs eating up the distance. At Byren's signal, the two monks hurried after her.
Byren met Orrade's eyes.
'Looks like you've angered Mountain-girl,' Orrade muttered.
'Don't you start. If she wants to be treated like a warrior, she has to act like one.'
Orrade raised one eyebrow.
Byren stomped off after the others. He was justified. If any of his honour guard disobeyed a direct order, he'd discipline them.
But Florin wasn't like his honour guard. There was only one of her and he hadn't handled her well at all.
Chapter Nine
Piro watched Isolt as servants fussed over the kingsdaughter arranging her hair in an elaborate coiffure. Since Dunstany left, she'd been trying to see behind the court mask to the vulnerable young woman who, according to the noble scholar, needed a friend. But Isolt had her flawless mask securely in place.
When they woke this morning, a servant had delivered the message that Duke Palatyne requested a meeting with the kingsdaughter. Isolt had set a time, making him wait until mid-afternoon.
Presented in the height of Merofynian fashion - her face powdered pale, her eyes and lips painted, her hair pulled back to reveal her high forehead, a circlet of sapphires resting on her head, one large sapphire hanging on her forehead - Isolt regarded Piro coldly. 'Do you have anything to say, slave?'
Yes
- unspoken words jostled to be unleashed -
you let your father betrothe you to my brother so he could invade our kingdom while we were unprepared. Now, half my family are dead and the other half are missing.
There were so many things to say, Piro could only shake her head. Since the stuffed wyvern and foenix had been presented, Isolt had withdrawn, as though she regretted letting her guard down with Piro.
After Isolt dismissed her other servants, they waited for the duke in silence.
When they heard Palatyne's boots in the corridor, Piro noticed Isolt's hands tighten on the arms of her chair and she felt an unwilling sympathy.
Palatyne made Piro's skin crawl. He swept into the room, a servant following him with a cage covered in silk.
'Isolt Merofyn Kingsdaughter. You may wonder why I have presented your father with many gifts but you with only the one slave. I was waiting for the most precious of gifts to arrive. Behold!' And he pulled the silk off the cage to reveal Piro's foenix. 'The only living foenix in captivity!'
Piro bit back a gasp. Her heart went out to her pet.
The foenix's usually brilliant red vest of scales was dulled and its tail feathers drooped. Its emerald eyes searched the room until it spotted Piro, then it gave a happy cry.
'A gift fit for a queen,' Palatyne said, bowing over Isolt's hand. He kissed her fingers as though she was the most precious thing in the world. Isolt remained stiff and distant, hiding the distaste Piro was sure she felt.
'You are most kind, duke,' Isolt said, but her eyes were on the foenix. 'It is much smaller than the stuffed foenix. Is it a baby?'
'Two years old, hand-raised by the daughter of the Rolencian king.'
'Bring it here.' Isolt came to her feet, approaching a step, as though she couldn't help herself. This did not go unnoticed. Piro hated Palatyne's gloating smile. 'I wish to hold this foenix.'
Palatyne frowned. 'It's too wild. No one has been able to get near it.'
'I thought you said it was hand-raised by the kingsdaughter?' Isolt did not miss a trick. She frowned. 'Perhaps your men frightened it. I will win its trust.'
'I'm sure you will,' Palatyne agreed smoothly, then hesitated. 'But I must warn you against placing your hand inside the cage. One of my men has already lost a finger.'
Piro hid a smile. She would reward her foenix handsomely for that finger. What a pity it hadn't been Palatyne's eye!
Isolt returned to her chair, arranging her gown over her knees. 'It was so kind of you to deliver the foenix in person. Thank you.'
This was dismissal. Palatyne could do nothing but grit his teeth and depart. Piro did not bother to hide her smile.
As soon as he was gone, Isolt slipped out of her chair and ran across the tiles, her silk under-skirts swishing. She knelt on the floor next to the cage, oblivious of the damage to her gown.
'The only living foenix in captivity,' she whispered, marvelling. 'Are you a boy or a girl, my pretty? Seela, run to the kitchen and fetch some food. I will win this bird's trust. Truly, he is fit for a queen!'
'Palatyne's queen!' Piro snapped.
Isolt sat back on her heels, looking up at Piro. 'I'm not betrothed to Duke Palatyne. Nor will I -'
'Just like you weren't betrothed to Lence Rolen Kingsheir?'
'I was never betrothed to him.'
'How can you say that? You sent him your portrait, a miniature!'
Isolt sprang to her feet, naked brows drawing together in a frown. 'I had a miniature painted as a gift for my father last spring.'
A servant entered the chamber.
'Yes?' Isolt tapped her foot impatiently.
The poor servant bowed and spoke with his head down. 'Your father wishes to speak with you, kingsdaughter.'
Isolt turned to Piro, holding her eyes. 'I will be back and I will get the truth from you.' She barely glanced to the servant. 'Where is my father?'
'In the throne room, with Duke Palatyne, kingsdaughter.'
Isolt stiffened, casting Piro a swift look. Suspecting the worst, Piro wanted to warn her but the servant was present and Isolt offered no hint that she would welcome advice. Lifting her chin, the kingsdaughter smoothed down her gown and left.
Alone with her pet at last, Piro knelt by the cage, reaching in to stroke the foenix's satiny scales. He cooed deep in his throat and looked reproachfully at her when she did not let him out to play.
'My poor boy,' she crooned and, as if that was a signal, her Affinity welled up, travelling down her arm to make her fingers throb with power. The foenix uttered soft, delighted noises in his throat as he rubbed his head and neck on her skin, absorbing her excess Affinity. It felt good. Only now could Piro admit that the build-up of power was making her edgy.
When the pressure eased, she sat back on her heels, to tell the foenix, 'be good and I'll fetch food.'
She went straight to the kitchen where she ordered a tray prepared for Isolt's new pet.
By the time she got back it was nearly dark. Palace servants were running a hot bath and stripping the royal bed. After replacing the bed's silk covers, they sprinkled rose petals on the pillows and lit two starkiss-scented candles. This reminded Piro of Dunstany. Despite his trickery, she missed him.
Being above a mere Rolencian slave, none of the servants spoke to her, but they did talk in front of her. The palace was alive with rumour of Isolt's betrothal to Palatyne.
For privacy, Piro took the foenix's cage through to the bathing chamber, where the warmth from the steaming sunken tub would make him comfortable, and opened the latch. The foenix stepped out disdainfully, as if being caged had been beneath his dignity.
Piro smiled as she rubbed his crest. Speaking nonsense words of love, she fed him, holding strips of meat up so that he took them from her fingers, laced with her Affinity.
Lence had mocked her, insisting the bird was no more intelligent than a chicken. If only he could have seen how the foenix recognised her... but now he never would. Piro felt the bone-deep ache of Lence's loss and prayed that Byren and Fyn were safe.
When the bird had satisfied his hunger, Piro let him play tug-of-war with her sleeve. For the first time since arriving in Merofynia she did not feel so lonely.
Then she heard the outer chamber door close and running steps. Piro went to pick up the foenix to put him back in his cage, but he darted away from her.
'Seela?' Isolt cried. Footsteps headed for the bathing chamber door.
Piro scooped up the bird, just as Isolt threw the door open. The foenix gave a little cry of fright and she soothed him, watching Isolt warily.
'You knew Palatyne wanted to marry me!' Isolt accused.
Piro cradled the bird. 'It was not hard to guess, kingsdaughter.'
'Ahh. How I hate that title! My father has betrothed me to Palatyne, but I will not be his prize. I will escape the cage just as my mother did.'
Isolt ran around the bath, towards the balcony, which reminded Piro that King Merofyn's wife had killed herself by jumping to her death.
'Isolt!' She dropped the foenix. He flew to the tiles with a cry of protest. Piro ran after Isolt, just managing to grab her before she could unlatch the door to the balcony.
'Let me go. I command you!'
Piro laughed. 'What sort of a friend would I be if I let you kill yourself?'
Isolt stared at her.
'I know how you feel,' Piro said. The foenix flew to land beside her, giving a soft cry of query, almost as if he was asking what was wrong. She took him in her arms. 'My father was going to betrothe me -'
'You, a serving maid?' Isolt looked at the foenix, then back to Piro's face. Her beautiful tilted eyes narrowed. 'You're no servant. You're Piro Rolen Kingsdaughter!' Her mouth hardened. 'And you're here to kill me!'
Isolt backed off, turned and ran around the far side of the tub, but Piro was quicker. She put herself between Isolt and the door.
The Merofynian kingsdaughter came to a stop, alert as a trapped wild creature.
'Don't be ridiculous,' Piro snapped. 'If I was going to kill you I could have done so a hundred times since I arrived.'
Isolt's eyes widened. 'You're supposed to be dead.'
'I very nearly was.' Piro shuddered. 'I saw Palatyne murder my mother and father. He had my eldest brother killed. He would have murdered me but I let him think another girl's body was mine.'
'If you don't mean to kill me, why did you come here?'
'I didn't have any choice. Lord Dunstany claimed me for his slave, then Palatyne wanted to give me to you.' She shrugged. 'So here I am, one kingsdaughter slave to another.'
They stared at each other across the steaming rose-scented water and the immensity of it struck Piro. Now that Isolt knew who she was, one word from the kingsdaughter and she would be dead. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask for reassurance but, because she did not trust Isolt, she did not want to show any weakness.
'I thought you were different, but I didn't realise how different,' Isolt whispered. She skirted the tub, halting an arm's length from Piro, her gaze on the foenix which nestled in Piro's arms. Isolt lifted one tentative hand and looked at Piro. 'May I?'
'Move slowly. He's shy of people he doesn't know.'
Isolt stroked the bird's back, then smiled. 'You were right. He's so soft, his feathers feel like fur.'
'He doesn't like being in a cage either.'
'I can understand that.' Isolt's voice cracked and when she looked up into Piro's face, tear tracks marred the white powder on her cheeks. 'Palatyne gets what he wants, and he wants the throne of Merofynia.'
'That's not all he wants. He plans to be emperor of the known world,' Piro revealed.
A bitter laugh escaped Isolt. 'And he may just do it!'
Piro didn't think so, not if Byren had anything to say, but she kept her tongue between her teeth. She wasn't about to tell the daughter of the Merofynian king that the rightful heir to Rolencia still lived.
'What will you do?' Piro asked. 'You can't trust Palatyne. He means to kill King Merofyn. He killed my father under a flag of truce.'
Isolt pulled back. 'Of course you would say that.' Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. 'It is well known the Rolencian royal family can't be trusted. They are tainted with a streak of aberrant Affinity. Everyone knows King Byren the Fourth could talk to animals, which makes him little better than an Affinity beast himself!'
Piro's mouth dropped open. Was her strong Affinity the product of mixing her mother's blood with her grandfather's? Talk about the pot calling the kettle black, but then Isolt didn't know Queen Myrella had been cursed with Affinity.
Isolt stepped away from Piro. 'Return the foenix to his cage. You are dismissed for tonight.'
'But... what will you do about Palatyne? He can't be trusted.'
'So you say, yet you are the enemy. We were warned that your army was massing. That's why Palatyne attacked.'
'Not true!' Piro protested. 'At least, no more than usual to keep the warlords in line. We have honoured the treaty with Merofynia these past thirty years. It was Palatyne who broke it, just as he murdered my father under a flag of truce!'
From Isolt's expression, it was clear she did not believe Piro. 'Palatyne is a crude barbarian who has conquered Rolencia in my father's name. He looks too high if he thinks to marry into royalty. I asked for time. I mean to go to Father and plead my case. He cannot force me to marry Palatyne.' Isolt gave an unsteady laugh. 'After all, I am a kingsdaughter!'
Piro eyed Isolt uneasily. The kingsdaughter had rallied after trying to throw herself off the balcony, but what were her options really?
While Isolt bathed, Piro made a nest for the foenix in a linen basket and sat it beside the daybed. She lay down but could not sleep. Instead, she fumed silently. Aberrant Affinity, indeed. King Rolen's army massing to attack Merofynia. Rubbish!
What other slander had King Merofyn been spreading about her family to justify his own treachery?
When Isolt returned to the main chamber, she knelt beside Piro's daybed to stroke the foenix and Piro pretended to be asleep. With a sigh, Isolt returned to her own bedchamber, putting out the light.