Lence snorted. 'You've grown old, father. Old and tired.'
'Lence!' Byren protested, shocked.
King Rolen blanched. His mouth settled in a grim line. 'When you've seen your brother and father writhing on the ground as they die in agony, when you've had to order the execution of a man who was your childhood friend, then you can tell me I'm a coward!'
'I never said you were a coward, Father,' Lence said, 'just old and tired. It's about time you stepped aside and let a young man — '
'Step aside?' King Rolen bellowed. 'You… you insolent wyvern! Get out of my sight!'
'But — '
'Lence,' Byren interrupted, stepping between them. Veins stood out on his father's forehead, the skin had become enflamed and his neck muscles corded. What if he had a brain spasm like the Old Dove? Byren grabbed his brother's arm. 'Come, help me find Piro.'
His twin snatched his arm free.
'This is not over,' Lence told their father, and stalked out.
Byren hesitated as the king went to follow, to have the last word, but his bad knee turned under him and Byren caught him as he fell, helping him to a chair. His father cursed fluently.
'Lence doesn't mean it,' Byren muttered.
'Yes, he does. He's young and impatient. I know what I was like at his age. I hated diplomacy. But, Byren, I'm done with war. We've had thirty years of good harvests, uninterrupted trade with both Merofynia and Ostron Isle. Nowadays the meanest crofter lives as well as a prosperous merchant did when I was a lad. I want peace and prosperity for my people. I'm not a — '
'I know, Father.' Byren straightened up. 'Should I send for one of the healers?'
'What? No. They've done their best.' Rolen rubbed his bad knee. 'I'll give Cobalt's manservant a chance to prove his boasts. Hopefully…'
Byren heard the unspoken words. Hopefully he could fix it, for King Rolen couldn't afford to look weak.
'I'd better go, catch up with Lence.'
Fyn met his brothers as he turned into the corridor that led to the war table stairwell. One of his father's honour guard stood silently at the landing at the base of the stairs, about a body length from them.
'I couldn't find Piro,' Fyn reported.
The twins barely nodded, radiating tension.
'Rejulas just marched out of Rolenhold with his warriors. Where's father?' Fyn asked. 'Does Mother know what's going on? Have you found Piro?'
'Piro's still hiding,' Lence said. 'Do you know where she is?'
Fyn shook his head. 'No. I told you I didn't.'
'If you won't help us, you might as well go back to your monks,' Lence snapped.
Fyn felt heat steal up his cheeks. The honour guard on duty studiously looked the other way. Fyn was about to protest when Lence shoved past him and walked off.
Fyn glanced at Byren, who shook his head in silent apology. Lence rounded the corner, the thump of his boots fading.
'He's not angry with you,' Byren whispered.
'With Piro. I understand. Can't Father say they've reconsidered Piro's betrothal?' Fyn lowered his voice even further. 'Cockatrice isn't the only spar.'
'No, but it is one of the most powerful. Father can't afford to let Rejulas ride off without renewing his allegiance. The warlord of Manticore Spar is only waiting for a sign of weakness to flout royal authority.'
Fyn nodded. This wasn't news to him.
Byren fixed on him. 'Can you find Piro and keep her out of sight until father calms down?'
'Of course,' Fyn said. 'What will you do?'
'I'll find Mother. She needs to know what's going on.'
Fyn nodded. He watched Byren jog after Lence then glanced up the corridor towards the stairs and the war table chamber. That was another sore point. Both he and Piro were considered too young to attend the war table. He'd been hoping that this time it would be different.
Fyn backtracked, crossed the courtyard and ran to the top of Eagle Tower. No sign of Piro. If he couldn't find her, then no one could. It looked like she had wisely decided to keep out of sight for a while.
Right now he wanted to know what was being discussed at the war table. He had a right to know. His mind made up, he left the tower.
Piro hurried along the castle corridors. She wanted to know why the alliance with warlord Rejulas was so important. As his wife, she would have inside knowledge of his plans. Why was this important to her father and brothers, when there was no threat from Merofynia? Picking up her skirts, she darted down the corridor to the base of the steps which led up to the room that housed the war table.
One of the honour guard stood there. Usually the stair was unguarded. It made her uneasy.
'Father sent for me,' she lied with a straight face. 'I think I'm in trouble.' That was true enough.
'Chin up.' He winked.
She felt a stab of guilt. All her life she had been teasing the honour guard with her tricks.
The soft soles of her good indoor slippers made almost no sound as she hurried up the steps to the next landing. Pausing to catch her breath, she crept to the door and strained to overhear her parents through the thick oak. Her heart beat uncomfortably fast.
Her mother spoke soothingly. But she could tell from her father's tone that he was furious. How was she going to explain her actions and warn him, without revealing her Affinity?
Hands grabbed her arm and covered her mouth, pulling her away from the door. She squirmed desperately as she was dragged away across the landing.
'Have you forgotten everything I taught you?' Fyn whispered.
In a flash she remembered and drove her elbow into his midriff. He grunted with pain, but did not release her, although his hand did slip from her mouth. 'Let me go. I want to know what's going on.'
'So do I, but if you make any more noise they'll hear you, as I did.'
She stopped struggling.
'Father is in a fury, Piro. Warlord Rejulas rode out of Rolenhold with his honour guard. The alliance is ruined. The other warlords are muttering amongst themselves, threatening to defy Rolencia. Father needs time to calm down,' Fyn warned softly. 'Come with me.'
He let her go and she spun to face him. 'Where to?'
Fyn signalled for silence, smiled and led her to another door. He held his finger to his lips again and she nodded impatiently. Then he opened the door to the twins' lesson room. She had never been inside, having resentfully stood at the door and wondered about the knowledge she, as a female, would never know.
Looking back now, she realised she probably had a broader and more useful education than the twins. Like them she had studied law and accounting, but her mother and Seela had also tutored her using books from Merofynia. Many were the times she had dressed up to play out roles from the history of both kingdoms.
The lesson chamber was not at all mysterious. It was cold and dim. The desks and chairs, abandoned five years ago when her brothers become men and outgrew their tutors, were covered in a thick layer of dust.
'I found this one day when Lence and Byren shut me in the cupboard,' Fyn whispered as he opened a door and stepped inside, beckoning her. Its shelves were full of inks, papers, old vellum scrolls and books. Fyn pulled some books off the shelf and pressed his ear to the wooden back of the cupboard. She did the same.
Now she could hear their voices quite clearly. She met Fyn's eyes, delighted.
'Enough of that,' her mother said. 'We must concentrate on mending this breach. We'll send someone after Rejulas to apologise and invite him to the spring cusp celebrations. Piro's been wild in the past but this is the last straw. It's time she grew up. She — '
'She spat out the food he gave her, acted like it was spoiled!' King Rolen said.
'Perhaps it was,' Byren suggested.
'It was not. I tasted it.' King Rolen roared. 'Then, when I asked her to pick up the Kingdoms pieces, she fled like an ulfr pack was after her. I sent Rejulas to bring her back, thinking he'd win her over, but she said something to him that made him march off.'
'It
doesn't matter what little Piro said or did, Myrella's right,' Captain Temor said. 'One of the warlords sent hired killers after the kingsheir today. We can't hold the Jubilee celebrations without Unistag Spar renewing their loyalty, their absence would make Rolencia look weak. And we can't afford to lose Rejulas's support.'
A chair scraped on the boards as someone stood up. 'I'll go after him.' It was Lence.
Silence stretched and Piro could imagine them all exchanging glances.
'That could just work,' the queen said softly. 'Any warlord would be flattered to have the kingsheir apologise in person.'
'Take some of your father's honour guard,' Captain Temor said.
'No. I'll take my own,' Lence replied.
'You have them sworn already?' King Rolen asked stiffly.
'Seven, with more wanting to join. How many do you have, brother?'
'Not sure,' Byren muttered. 'But it's a good idea to invite Rejulas back for the Jubilee celebrations. He can spend some time with Piro. Let him be the one to break the betrothal when he discovers what a bad-tempered little wyvern she is!'
Piro could hear the smile in his voice.
'She bared her teeth at him already today,' King Rolen complained. 'I don't know what possessed the girl!'
'Don't be too hard on her, father,' Byren said. 'If she understood how serious things are, she wouldn't have offended Rejulas. Once Rolencia's warlords hear how Palatyne united all the Merofynian spars under him, they'll be dreaming of doing the same. I think it is time she and Fyn took their seats at the war table.'
At last! Piro held her breath.
Her mother sighed. 'Piro's too wilful. She never thinks before she acts. Maybe in a few years.'
'If I'm old enough to be betrothed,' Piro muttered under her breath, 'I'm old enough — '
'Hush,' Fyn hissed. 'Father's speaking.'
'…trust Fyn, but only so far. He's been at the abbey since he was six. His loyalty is divided.'
'I trust Fyn,' Queen Myrella protested. 'He's loyal to us.'
'Give me one good reason why I should trust him,' Lence snapped.
There was a strained silence. Piro closed her eyes, knowing how her mother must be torn, unable to reveal the Affinity which enabled her to glimpse into some people's hearts.
'Very well.' King Rolen sounded tired. 'If he can't be trusted, he can't have a seat at the war table.'
Fyn slipped out of the cupboard, his face ashen. Torn between hearing more and consoling him, Piro followed.
Fyn came to a stop on the far side of the room in the window embrasure. Frost rimmed each diamond pane of glass. He looked sick.
'Father and Lence didn't mean it, Fyn,' she whispered, her breath misting in the chilly air.
'Of course they did.' His voice shook with anger. 'Father was the one who gifted me to the abbey. What did he expect? At least they'll let you take your seat in a few years.'
'Not if I tell them about my Affinity.' Tears stung her eyes. 'Oh, Fyn. I looked into the Mirror of Insight and I saw the wyvern about to tear father's head off. I came to warn him about Rejulas.'
'Forget Rejulas. He's a just an upstart warlord, greedy for power. Merofynia is the real threat. I'm no mystic, Piro, but even I can interpret what you saw. The wyvern is the symbol of Merofynia. King Merofyn threatens Rolencia.'
'But Lence is betrothed to his daughter. Is King Merofyn so treacherous that he would betrothe his daughter, while preparing for war?' Piro whispered. 'Besides, who would want war, when we could have peace?'
'Oh, Piro.' Fyn shook his head. 'You are such an innocent.'
'I am not. Even I know that war brings death!'
'War brings wealth and power for the victor.'
'If you love war, why don't you serve the weapons master?' she snapped.
Fyn sank into the window seat and turned his face away from her.
'I'm sorry, Fyn,' she whispered. 'And I'm sorry about today and the Fate.'
'It was brave of you, Piro.' He gave her an odd look. 'Or didn't you stop to think about the risks?'
'I did. But I didn't intend to be caught.'
He shook his head ruefully. 'Feldspar deserved to find the Fate. His Affinity is stronger than mine. Even your Affinity is stronger than mine.'
Piro winced. She sat in the other half of the window seat and hugged her knees, wishing she could cheer him up.
'Maybe I should go to the abbess of Sylion, tell her I have Affinity and renounce the world,' she said, without conviction. 'At least I'd escape this plotting.'
Fyn snorted. 'You are an innocent. You can't escape plotting in an abbey. Being King Rolen's kin would make you a target in the mistresses' power plays. Besides, our parents won't want to let you go. You're too valuable a Kingdoms' piece. No, Piro. You were right and I was wrong. Tell no one for now.' He reached out and squeezed her hand. 'Will you promise me that?'
She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. 'Seela knows.'
He rolled his eyes. 'Why did you — '
'I wanted to warn Father. She stopped me. Don't worry, she won't tell.'
'Why not?' Fyn countered. 'She and Mother are thick as thieves.'
Piro debated with herself for a moment, then spoke. 'Have you ever wondered why you and I have it?'
'Affinity? Just bad luck — '
'No. We inherited it from Mother.'
He stared at her.
Piro nodded, almost laughing at his stunned expression. 'She's been hiding it all these years. Seela told me. Mother's Affinity came on her when she became a woman, like me. She didn't tell anyone because she had to marry Father to keep the peace.'
'Who would have thought?' Fyn shook his head slowly. 'Well, if she can hide it, then so can you.' He stood up. 'Pay attention and I'll teach you how to block out dangerous Affinity.'
She stood opposite him and mimicked his actions as he tapped his closed eyes, then his ears, then his mouth, then his heart, whispering all the time in a sing-song way.
'What're you saying?'
'Calling on Halcyon to protect me. I suppose the nuns call on Sylion but I don't think it matters what you say. The words and actions are just to help focus the will. Have you seen enough?'
She nodded.
'Then show me.'
She repeated the actions, humming in time to the tapping under her breath.
'Right. When you get really good at it you only have to think about it to set up the protective wards. And on no account let a renegade Power-worker touch your bare skin. It gives them access to — '
'As if I would!'
He grinned. 'Promise me you'll practise the wards every day.'
'I will, but Fyn, I won't see you again until spring cusp.'
He caught her hands in his. 'Don't worry. If there's any trouble Mother will help hide your Affinity.'
'She hates me!'
'Nonsense, Piro.'
'She does. I'm always doing the wrong thing. I'm a disappointment to her.' The immensity of it made Piro's eyes sting and she gulped back a sob. 'I've insulted Rejulas so the other warlords will defy father and — '
'Enough.' Fyn released her hands and clasped her shoulders, giving her a little shake. 'Everything's going to be all right. Lence will sweet-talk Rejulas and Byren will keep the warlords under control. Lence is betrothed to the Merofynian kingsdaughter which means we can look forward to another thirty years' peace. So your vision was wrong.'
'You think so?' She searched his face.
'Of course. Just keep out of Father's way until he's calmed down.'
Chapter Fourteen
Byren watched Piro and Fyn slip into the great hall. Tonight Fyn did not join the monks, but came to the high table with the rest of the royal family, taking his seat at the end beside Piro.
King Rolen muttered under his breath.
Byren hid a grin. With the allegiance oaths about to begin their father could not reprimand Piro. Clever girl. By the time he'd had his dinner and drunk too much rich Rolencian wine, the edge would have gone off
the king's temper.
Byren sipped his drink and began to relax. With Lence gone he did not have to watch everything he said and did. He was shocked how bad things had got between them. You'd think saving his brother's life twice in a matter of days would improve Lence's temper. But no.
What more could he do?
He wished he'd never met up with that old seer. But, if he was honest, he had to admit she'd made him aware of something that had been developing for a while, so he should really thank her because, now that he was aware of it, he had a chance to fix things with Lence.
Come to think of it, where was Lence? He should have returned from Rolenton by now. Byren's stomach tensed.
Though his twin was accompanied by his honour guard, he was still vulnerable to a lone archer… Knowing Lence, he would say there was no point in worrying and refuse to live his life shadowed by fear.
Byren told himself Lence was probably dismounting in the stables right now.
But who had sent the assassins? Not Rejulas, he had been expecting to marry into the royal house of Rolencia. Not Unistag Spar, they were too busy with internal power plays.
No, the assassins had to have been sent by the warlord from Manticore. Even now, the man strode up to the dais to make his bow. Middle-aged, but still vigorous, he wore his iron grey hair in two battletales, both laden with gold rings. Heavy black brows made him look angry. With his gleaming black armour and vivid red cloak, he looked arrogant, standing there in fabulously expensive manticore chitin chestplate. Even King Rolen did not own a suit of chitin armour.
Hand on heart, the warlord of Manticore Spar renewed his pledge of loyalty to King Rolen.
If this warlord made a move in the spring, Byren would have to lead a punitive war party over the Dividing Mountains against him. Odd, Corvel of Manticore Spar was almost his father's age, had come to the warlordship at fifteen and held it for thirty years. He had at least four strapping sons to help him now, so he had nothing to prove. The spar's emblem, the blood-red-furred Affinity beast with the body of a lion and the tail of a scorpion, glinted in the light of many candles. Repugnance filled Byren. What kind of warrior would swear allegiance with one breath, while sending assassins in the next? Or perhaps he wronged Corvel.
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