Byren used his blade to slit the side of Cobalt’s tent. Inside, the hot, still air was heavily scented with Ostronite incense. By the light of two lamps, he spotted Chandler and Old Man Narrows on the far side of the tent. A manservant faced them, holding a knife with all the confidence of a trained killer. There was no sign of Cobalt.
As Byren crept up behind the corax, Chandler’s eyes widened and the corax spun around, slashing at Byren.
Old Man Narrows stepped in with his sword raised, but before he knew what was happening, the corax had diverted his blade and slashed open his belly.
As Florin’s father buckled, trying to hold his guts in, the corax lunged for Chandler. The lad threw himself backwards, falling over a chest. Byren pulled him to safety.
The corax backed up as Byren stepped forward. A dozen men-at-arms charged into the tent and stood blinking in the dim, stifling tent.
The corax pointed at Byren. ‘It’s the usurper. Kill him.’
The men-at-arms spread out warily. Byren snatched a fallen sword and Chandler lifted his blade.
Cobalt arrived at a run. Taller than the rest, he looked over their heads to Byren. His eyes widened with malicious triumph. ‘Kill the usurper!’
The men-at-arms charged. Byren threw the sword, spear-like, into the first man’s chest. Grabbing the nearest lamp, he flung it on the carpet at their attackers’ feet. Flames sprang up between them, and Byren dragged Chandler out through the slit in the side of the tent.
‘What of Piro?’ Chandler protested.
‘There.’ Byren pointed. Six paces away, Orrade had bundled Piro into the cart and was covering her with a blanket. Was that his old nurse running back to the bridal tent?
Byren pulled off his cap and smock and shoved them into Chandler’s arms, before pushing him towards the shafts of the cart. ‘Put on the harness.’
Cobalt’s voice carried as he shouted, ‘Around the back!’
Orrade caught Byren’s arm. ‘It’s not—’
‘Go.’ Byren shoved him aside. ‘I’ll lead them away.’
He darted out from behind Cobalt’s tent into full view of the men-at-arms. With a shout, they took off after him and he ran across Narrowneck, his bad knee protesting.
FLORIN TRIED TO pull her hands through the ropes, but they held firm. She tried to work the gag loose, but Amil had known what he was doing.
Through the thin muslin curtain, she saw the flap of the main chamber open as someone beckoned. ‘Quick, this way.’
‘Orrie?’ Seela sounded stunned. ‘Where’s Byren?’
‘Here. Bring... That’s not Piro.’
‘No time to explain.’ Seela grabbed Varuska and yelled over her shoulder. ‘Come quick, Florin.’
Florin tried to call out, but all she could manage was a high pitched whine. Outside, she heard shouting and imagined Byren fighting his way to the gate. She should be with him.
She glimpsed someone as they slipped into the tent’s main chamber. Only too aware of her vulnerability, Florin went very still, heart hammering.
‘Hello?’ The girl’s voice was vaguely familiar. Had one of the flower girls come back?
The girl strolled into the tent and helped herself to a sip of the sweet wine and a pastry.
In desperation, Florin pulled and jerked on her restraints, throwing her weight against the posts. Half their length had been buried in the ground; even so, she felt them give slightly.
‘Why are you tied up?’ Varuska’s sister stepped into the private chamber of the tent. She put her wine glass aside and tilted her head. ‘I saw Ruska run off with an old woman and a thin man. He was dressed as an apprentice, but carried himself like a warrior. What’s going on?’
Florin rolled her eyes, unable to speak.
‘My sister’s run away, hasn’t she? Stupid girl.’ Anatoley’s eyes gleamed with contempt. ‘I knew she wasn’t cut out for this. Trust her to throw away the chance of a lifetime!’
Florin jerked her head, indicating the ropes that held her.
Anatoley stepped closer and raised her hands, but it was only to stroke a velvet gown. With deft fingers, the girl unlaced her own gown, tossed it aside and slipped the brocade-edged royal gown over her head. She tightened the lacings, then reached into the bodice and adjusted her breasts so that they showed to best advantage.
Florin could only manage a muffled, indignant protest as Anatoley admired herself in the polished silver mirror.
The girl noticed the jewel chest and opened it. With a cry of delight, she placed the pearl and ruby choker around her neck.
‘Piro?’ Cobalt entered the outer chamber. ‘Piro, Seela, are you out the back?’
Anatoley froze and peered through the muslin.
‘If she’s run off, I’ll...’ He strode towards the private chamber. But halfway across, he lurched as if to avoid something, cried out and clutched his back.
‘You’re too late,’ Seela said, springing away with a bloody knife. ‘The girl’s escaped!’
‘Why, you scrawny old bitch,’ Cobalt snarled. ‘I’m going to—’
‘I’ll tell you what you’re going to do,’ Seela said, edging away as he tried to circle her. ‘You’re going to die for killing my little Myrella.’
And Florin remembered Seela had been Queen Myrella’s nurse.
As Anatoley drew her knife and slipped through the curtain, joy surged through Florin. Now Cobalt would get what he deserved.
The girl sprang forward, struck and stepped back. Florin watched in horror as Seela collapsed with a knife in her back.
Cobalt took a step back. ‘Who the—’
‘I’m Varuska’s sister. King Byren the fourth’s other great-granddaughter.’
He looked confused.
‘Your father wasn’t the only bastard,’ Anatoley told him. ‘Our grandmother—’
‘Why did you kill Seela?’
‘Because I should have been the one to play Piro, not Varuska.’ She adjusted the gown. ‘I should be your queen.’
Cobalt swayed, then almost fell. Anatoley caught him and helped him to the day-bed.
‘Your wound needs binding. Let’s get that shirt off you.’ The muffled sound of movement was followed by material tearing. ‘What’s going on outside?’
‘Byren sent men to kill me. That fool doesn’t deserve this kingdom. Trying to kill me on my wedding day? He’s played into my hands and branded himself a coward.’
‘You’ll catch him and kill him?’ Anatoley asked eagerly.
Florin decided she hated Varuska’s sister.
‘Of a certainty.’ Cobalt gave a soft grunt of pain.
‘Sorry.’ Anatoley perched on the end of the day-bed beside Cobalt. ‘You know, I’m the same height and colouring as Varuska. I could be your Piro. I’d do a much better job of it.’ She tilted her head, using the same mannerism as Piro and Varuska. ‘Can’t you use me, instead of her?’
‘Maybe I can,’ Cobalt said slowly, coming to his feet. ‘You’re such a pretty little thing it seems almost a shame to...’
His fist slammed into her face.
Anatoley fell backwards off the day-bed. Blood gushed between her fingers as she pressed her hands to her nose, and stared up at him, eyes wide with shock. ‘What did you do that for?’
‘You don’t look enough like your sister. But with a broken nose, no one will notice.’ He offered his hand. ‘Come, my dear.’
Anatoley considered for a heartbeat, then took it. Florin cursed. The girl was a faithless opportunist.
They walked out of Florin’s line of sight.
A moment later Anatoley staggered backwards, bent over, both hands pressed to her chest.
‘Why...’ The girl showed Cobalt her bloody hands. A knife hilt protruded from her ribs. She sank slowly to her knees and toppled forward. ‘Why...’
‘I’m sorry, my dear, but you’re more use to me dead than alive. Dead, you’ll paint Byren as a kin-slayer.’
Several men-at-arms entered the tent, followed by the abbot.
&
nbsp; Cobalt dropped to his knees. ‘Piro, my sweet, I failed you.’
‘What happened?’ Abbot Firefox asked.
‘Byren tried to kill me.’ Cobalt indicated his wound. ‘When I fought him off, he grabbed Piro, said she’d never marry me, and killed her.’
‘Byren killed Piro?’ the abbot repeated in surprise, then with more conviction. ‘Byren killed his sister. The coward!’
‘Find him and his rebels.’ Cobalt came to his feet, with the dead ‘Piro’ in his arms. He cut a tragic figure. ‘Abbot Firefox, call the nobles and merchants—’
‘They’ve fled. The fire has spread to the other tents and there’s no stopping it. We must leave.’
Florin shuddered. Now she recognised the background noise for the roar of a fire.
‘I have horses. Hurry,’ the abbot urged.
Cobalt glanced towards the private chamber, almost as if he could see through the curtain into the darkness. He knew Florin was still in there.
And he turned away, leaving her to burn.
Florin jerked on the ropes. She tried to scream through the gag, but only a high whine emerged. Sweat ran down her forehead. Her eyes stung from the smoke, and her panicked breath whistled through her nose.
She was not going to die here. Furious, she threw her weight against the ropes. Her shoulders ached and her wrists burned as the ropes tightened, but she felt the posts give ever so slightly. Heartened, she renewed her struggle.
Chapter Thirty-Two
BYREN RAN UNTIL his bad knee throbbed and the breath burned in his chest. He ran through tents, up lanes, across carts and between horses, doubling back to escape his pursuers. Their shouts became lost in the cries of those trying to put out fires and save loved ones. The smoke was so thick he couldn’t see more than a body-length in front of him. He heard the whinny of frightened horses. As they galloped past him, one beast shouldered him aside and he staggered.
Desperate people collided with him as they made for the gate. He could just imagine the bottleneck. The barrier, built to keep people out, would also keep them in. It seemed like a good idea to go in the opposite direction, to the beach on the far side of Narrowneck.
The heat was something fearful, but he made it back to the crest of Narrowneck. As he passed the back of the bridal tent, he remembered seeing Seela. Had she escaped? He slit the canvas and darted into a dim, smoky interior. ‘Seela, are you in here?’
In front of him clothing hung from a rail. The gowns heaved and a high whining noise reached him. He stepped around the post and parted the dresses to find Florin tied up. Wisps of her hair had come loose from her plait and clung to her sweat-damp face. Her servant’s tabard had been slit from neck to hip, revealing her small, high breasts.
‘Who did this to you?’ He wanted to strangle her tormentors with his bare hands. Trembling with fury, he sawed through one of her restraints.
She pulled the gag from her mouth. ‘Byren!’
‘Aye, it’s me.’ He reached for the other restraint. ‘I’m sorry—’
‘Byren...’ Tears filled her eyes.
‘Eh, none of that, I’m here now.’ He freed her other hand and she almost fell into his arms. Her wrists had been rubbed raw by the ropes. ‘Who—’
‘Seela’s dead.’
‘What?’
She drew him into the main chamber, where flames had begun to eat into the canvas walls. But Florin seemed unaware of this as she knelt and rolled Seela’s body onto her back.
Byren sank to his knees beside his old nurse. A roaring filled his head.
Florin looked across at him, tears gleaming on her cheeks. ‘She tried to kill Cobalt.’
Behind Florin, the back wall of the tent was alight.
‘Come with me.’ Byren hauled Florin to her feet and ran for the tent’s front entrance. One look outside revealed flying cinders.
Desperate, Byren grabbed an Ostronite wool rug, swinging it over their shoulders. ‘Ready? We’ll make for the cliffs.’
She nodded.
They ran out into the fiery maelstrom. A mighty wind buffeted them as they staggered. In the maelstrom, Byren got turned around, but Florin seemed to know the way.
The hot air dried out Byren’s eyes, and each breath burned his throat. They passed a burning tent, fruit bubbling and blackening on platters.
Through the smoke he glimpsed the lake and they headed that way. Byren’s ankles and forearms stung as flying cinders swirled around them. They stumbled on.
Stumbled right off the cliff, plummeting into the lake. The rug was torn from his hands as blessedly cool water closed over them.
And he remembered Florin couldn’t swim. Desperate, he reached out, felt Florin’s shoulder and pulled her close. Keeping a tight hold on her, he kicked, driving them towards the surface. They came up, gasping for air. The wind howled above them and the sky was full of smoke and cinders.
Florin’s cheeks were streaked with soot and her eyes were red-rimmed from the smoke and heat. She clutched him tightly, and he could feel the panic in her body.
He held her eyes. ‘I’ll keep you safe. Trust me.’
She nodded and he felt the tension go out of her body. Turning her in his arms, he began to swim backwards, looking around for the nearest boat, but the smoke was too thick. So he struck out in what he hoped was the right direction to reach the shore, hoping to feel lake bed under his feet.
Nothing. Maybe he was going in circles.
He was a strong swimmer, but the lake, fed by the run-off from the recent snow melt, was freezing. He could hear Florin’s teeth chattering. Just as he was beginning to despair, a small row boat loomed out of the smoke. He called for help.
No one answered. He struck out for it.
When he reached the boat, he guided Florin to the side. ‘Hold on, Mountain Girl.’
She clutched the boat, tipping it, and he saw it was empty save for some bundles down near the stern.
‘Stay here. I’m going around the far side to get in.’
She stared at him, clearly terrified.
‘I won’t leave you. I promise.’
She nodded, teeth chattering.
‘That’s my mountain girl.’
‘I’m n-not your girl.’
He laughed and swam around the row boat, where he yelled. ‘Hold tight.’
With a kick, he hauled his weight over the side and into the boat. As soon as the rocking stopped, he perched on the bench, leant over the side and hauled Florin into the belly of the boat. She lay there, shivering, trying to catch her breath. Her tabard gaped open to reveal her ribs rising with each breath and her breasts, the nipples tight and dark against her skin.
He turned away and found the bundles in the stern. A quick investigation revealed a blanket and a basket of food.
‘Someone planned a picnic,’ he said, wondering what had happened to them. Probably panicked and lost the oars, then another boat had taken them in.
He grabbed the blanket just as Florin came to her knees. The boat rocked.
‘Take it easy, you’ll tip the boat.’ He wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. ‘There.’ Now he could keep his eyes on her face. ‘You’ll soon warm up.’
‘You came back for me.’ She shuddered.
If he hadn’t come back, she’d have died. He thought better of telling her he’d been looking for Seela. Grief made his throat tight.
‘That’s t-twice I’ve jumped off Narrowneck with you,’ Florin said, teeth chattering, ‘and me unable to swim. Next t-time I’m taking the gate.’
He grinned. ‘There’s food. We should be alright tonight.’ A smoke-shrouded dusk had closed in, but they would need to be off the lake by sunrise tomorrow.
He had to trust that Orrade had led the others out of Narrowneck. Where would they go? Not Rolenton. Maybe Foenix Spar. No, Byren was certain Orrade wouldn’t abandon him.
He’d wait at the old water-wheel. It was where they’d regrouped the night Palatyne had captured Dovecote Estate.
The o
ld mill would be deserted. Orrade’s older brother, Dovronzik, had built a more efficient mill-house further down the stream. Poor Dovronzik. He’d died before Orrade was born, executed for his part in the Servants of Palos uprising.
In the thirty years since, the old water-wheel had fallen into disrepair. As children, they’d claimed the old mill-house for their own, bringing blankets and baskets of food. On hot summer afternoons, they used to stretch out on the upper floor and watch the water rush by, dreaming of the brave things they would do when they grew up. Lence would boast to impress Elina, while Piro and Garzik bickered.
Lence, Elina and Garzik... all lost. Pain cramped in Byren’s gut. He tried to focus. ‘At least Piro’s safe.’
‘That wasn’t Piro. Cobalt was about to marry Varuska.’ Florin’s voice was rough with tears. ‘And it was her sister who killed Seela.’
‘Who are these girls?’
‘The great-granddaughters of King Byren the Fourth. Their grandmother was another of his bastards.’ Florin shrugged. ‘Varuska looked so much like Piro, it had to be true. Cobalt could have gotten away with marrying her. He had everyone fooled.’
So Chandler and Old Man Narrows had tried to save an imposter. Byren was reminded that Florin’s father was dead, and she didn’t know. ‘I’m so sorry—’
‘You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. You couldn’t have saved Seela.’
‘It’s not...’ He looked down at his big, scarred hands. What good was strength if you could not save the people you loved? He hadn’t saved his mother or Elina, hadn’t been able to save Seela and now... Grief threatened to choke him.
Florin rose to her knees and reached out to cup his cheek. ‘Byren, what’s wrong?’
He met her eyes. ‘Your father’s dead. He and Chandler came to save Piro, but they picked the wrong tent and the corax killed him.’
Her face fell. ‘Amil killed Da?’
He nodded.
She threw herself into Byren’s arms as sobs shook her. He felt her wet hair on his cheek, hot tears on his neck and hot breath on his throat. He wept with her. Wept for Seela, for Old Man Narrows... for everyone he had lost since Cobalt came back. Her tears mingled with his.
King Breaker Page 32
