As there was only so much entertainment to be had from a swinging corpse, several of the crowd ventured closer to watch. They started yelling advice to Fyn, or backed the lad.
Fyn let his horse collide with Elrhodoc’s mount and the rest of the guards’ horses began to shift and snort, growing uneasy.
Judging the moment right, Fyn caught Rhalwyn’s arm. ‘That’s it. You’re dismissed. I’ll find another Affinity beast-keeper. Get out. Better yet, I’ll get rid of you myself.’
Fyn hauled the lad over his saddle and urged his mount towards the gate. Camoric’s men would be waiting on the corner of Tailor and Sailcloth Lanes. There Rhalwyn would be taken to join Cortomir.
Riding through the gate, Fyn pulled up on the edge of the busy market square. He shoved Rhalwyn off the horse. ‘Get out and stay out.’
The lad took to his heels, disappearing into the crowd, just as they’d planned.
Fyn rode back, past Elrhodoc and the half dozen queen’s guards, straight past Dunstany’s carriage without pausing to speak to him.
Let Elrhodoc make what he would of this. If the captain of the queen’s guards believed Fyn was at odds with both Dunstany and Isolt, he might be lured into doing something rash.
There was just time to tell Isolt about the Merofynity Stone before he set sail for Benetir Estate. If it truly was an Affinity stone, then it was beyond price. Should they move it to the treasury? Dunstany would know.
BY THE TIME Byren reached the top of the rise and spotted Feid’s stronghold, it was mid-afternoon. Between them lay Feidton, swollen with refugees from Rolencia. The steep slope led down to the wharf and Feid Bay, and directly opposite, on a higher rise, stood Feid Stronghold. It seemed to grow out of the cliff in places, the silvery wood of its upper storeys blending in with the dark stone base.
‘Not long now,’ Byren said.
Florin brushed past him, striding on ahead. Those mud-caked breeches left little to the imagination.
Byren had pushed himself to the limit to get here. Florin had to be exhausted—not that she complained. But there were bruises on her jaw and forehead, and she flinched if her jerkin brushed against her left breast where the Merofynian had pinched her. The thought of that brute laying hands on her infuriated him.
His first instinct was to offer to heal her, but he couldn’t attempt it without Orrade’s help or access to a seep. And just as well, because he’d be a fool to risk the intimacy. The urge to claim her for his own still rode him.
He was not a weak-willed man like his grandfather. He’d recognised the risk arising from his kinship with Affinity beasts and was on his guard.
Perhaps he’d misjudged King Byren the Fourth. If his grandfather’s Affinity had come on him when he was only twelve or thirteen and he’d made a connection with an Affinity beast, then he would never have understood what drove his animalistic nature.
Byren wished his grandfather was still alive, so he could ask his advice. He missed his mother’s perceptive advice, and his father’s knowledge of men and battles. But they were all gone: his parents, old Lord Dovecote, Captain Temor, Seela and Florin’s father.
There she was, striding along, all alone in the world with a boy of ten to raise.
‘They’ve seen us.’ Orrade waved to the men on the main gate. He glanced to Byren and caught him watching Florin. ‘There’s still time to reconsider.’
‘I know my duty. I know what I owe all those who believed in me and sacrificed their lives at Narrowneck.’
In silence they strode up the steep switch-back road to the stronghold. As they neared the gate, Florin’s brother emerged, stepping into the daylight. He blinked, spotted his sister and made for her. Chandler followed.
‘Leif...’ Florin dropped to one knee and held out her arms.
The lad ran to her blindly, sobbing. ‘Da’s dead!’
Byren slowed and came to a stop two paces behind them.
‘I know, I know...’ Florin sobbed.
Tears stung Byren’s eyes. He wanted to wrap Florin and Leif in his arms. He wanted the right to do this.
Orrade stepped forward and embraced them both.
Leif pulled out of the hug and Orrade helped Florin to her feet. She would never have let Byren help her. Byren felt a stab of jealousy, but rejected it as unworthy.
‘I told Leif how Old Man Narrows saved my life,’ Chandler said, holding Byren’s eyes.
He nodded his understanding. ‘You can be proud of your father, lad.’
Leif threw his arms around Byren, and he lifted the lad off his feet in a fierce embrace. He felt Leif’s skinny frame shake as he sobbed. The boy held on with all his might.
‘Eh, lad...’ Byren’s throat grew tight. He looked up and caught Florin watching. She turned away.
‘Why...’ Leif pulled back to meet Byren’s eyes. He swallowed a sob. ‘Why do you smell so bad?’
‘We fell in a bog,’ Byren said. And for some reason that made them all laugh.
‘Byren!’ Feid strode down the slope to welcome them. Lady Cinna followed a few steps behind, trying to hurry despite her swollen belly. She was pink cheeked from exertion, and so pregnant she looked ready to give birth any moment.
Byren put Leif down to greet the spar warlord. Feid swept Byren in an embrace, then Cinna hugged him. He felt the hard drum of her belly, and the baby kicked him.
Byren laughed. ‘That’s a healthy kick. How long?’
‘Any day now.’ Feid slid an arm around Cinna’s shoulders, beaming with pride.
Byren envied him for being able to take the woman he loved for his wife.
Chapter Forty-One
FYN STOOD WITH Sefarra at the prow of the fishing vessel leading their small fleet. The dozen able-bodied youths who’d escaped from Benetir Estate formed her honour guard, and Camoric’s sea-hounds packed all three fishing boats. Dunstany and Isolt had remained in port to give substance to the rumours of division between them and Lord Protector Merofyn.
If they were lucky, this would prompt the captain to make a move against Fyn.
‘He’s clever,’ Sefarra said.
‘Who, Elrhodoc?’
‘No, Camoric.’ She gestured to the bay lord’s grandson at the tiller. ‘If we’d approached the estate in my father’s yacht, it would have alerted the warlord, but three fishing boats taking shelter in a cove won’t raise concern.’
Fyn nodded as they dropped anchor.
‘And you’re clever,’ Sefarra told Fyn. ‘The Flying Sarre will keep Jankigern’s attention focused in the wrong direction.’
Fyn had told the yacht’s captain to approach Benetir Estate at dusk tomorrow evening. By then they should be in position to attack from the inland side of the great house.
If all went to plan.
‘Elrhodoc’s not.’
‘What?’ Fyn wondered if it was only him, or if others found Sefarra’s manner odd. The more time he spent with her, the more he believed Lady Gennalla had been wilfully blind concerning her daughter’s marriage prospects.
‘Elrhodoc’s not clever. He doesn’t see that if you kill a predator, another will move into its territory.’ She faced Fyn. ‘That’s what Palatyne did. According to my father, he fostered jealousy within the spar warlords’ own households, brother turned on brother. Then Palatyne stepped in when the spar leaderships were fractured and weak—’
‘And defeated them.’
‘That’s what everyone assumed, but I overheard the Centicore warlord and his brother talking. Palatyne became overlord by promising to divide up Merofynia between the spars.’
‘Then they must have been furious when he broke his word and led the invasion of Rolencia.’
‘No, he was too canny for that. He told the warlords they’d make their move when the moment was right.’
‘And they believed him because they wanted to.’
Sefarra nodded, and Fyn recalled that her father had been the Merofynian ambassador. Clearly she took after him and not her mother.
H
er next words confirmed it.
‘The nobles have grown complacent in two hundred years of peaceful trade with the spars. But that’s two hundred years of them breeding bigger families than the poor spar soil can support. The spars are packed with hungry warriors, eager to win land and riches. They’re like ulfr packs, led by the most cunning, strongest males, and there are always younger males ready to take the leaders’ places. Jankigern killed Cortomir’s father to expand his pack’s territory. Until the number of warriors falls below what the spar land can support, we will have war.’ She shrugged. ‘Executing Cortomir would have achieved nothing, but Elrhodoc could not see this. He’s captain of the queen’s guard, yet he defied Isolt. She’ll have to remove him and make sure another predator doesn’t move into her territory by appointing someone she trusts to captain her guards.’
‘Your father told you all this?’
‘Not specifically. We used to talk and I’ve read all the histories.’ Her chin quivered. ‘I wanted to be an ambassador just like him.’
‘You never did intend to marry.’
‘No.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Not after I saw what happened to my older sister. She was married to Yorale’s heir. He beat her when she was pregnant and she lost the baby. Then he beat her because she lost the baby. She was scared of him, but she couldn’t leave him. Then she met a good man and they fell in love. He challenged her husband to a duel and killed him. Because her husband was the heir to a great estate, the man she loved had to flee. She could have gone with him, but she didn’t protest when father sent her to Cyena Abbey. Both their lives were ruined.’
‘I’m sorry.’
Sefarra grimaced and her eyes took on that hard look he had come to recognise. ‘If I had been married to her husband, the first time he raised his hand to me I would have cut his throat. At the very least I would have defied society and run off with Rishardt!’
‘You’d give up everything for love?’ Fyn teased.
She took him seriously. ‘When you’ve looked death in the face, you know what’s important.’
FLORIN FOLLOWED LADY Cinna as she swept along the corridor, issuing orders. Bedchambers had to be aired, hot water fetched, clothes found and food prepared.
Cinna flung open the door to the stronghold’s second-best bedchamber. ‘Chandler, Woodend and Wafin have been sharing the bed. I’ll have the sheets changed for Byren and send up some blankets. His honour guard can sleep on the floor.’
Florin nodded. With the over-crowding in the stronghold, only the high-ranking visitors would get a bed to themselves. Last time she was here, Florin had slept in the servants’ chamber, just off the warlord’s bedchamber. It was little more than a cupboard, but the privacy had been a luxury. ‘I can sleep in the great-hall on the floor with the rest of the men-at-arms.’
‘Nonsense.’ Cinna led Florin to what had been her old room and opened the door. ‘This will be the nursery, but we don’t need it yet, so I ordered a bath prepared.’
‘You’ll need it any day now. I don’t want to get in the way,’ Florin protested.
Two sturdy servants arrived with buckets of hot water and upended them into the copper tub, and another two followed.
Florin looked longingly at the hot water. At home she would have bathed crouching over a shallow bowl with a jug of water. ‘I don’t need—’
‘Believe me, you do,’ Cinna told her, a twinkle in her eye. She opened a jar and sprinkled rose petals on the bathwater. Their delicate scent filled the air. ‘I’ll go and find some fresh clothes.’
‘Breeches,’ Florin warned. No point trying to be something she was not. ‘Nothing with frills.’
Cinna rolled her eyes, then left.
Alone at last, Florin stripped and sank into the tub, thinking about the way Feid looked at Cinna...
Tears stung Florin’s eyes. She had no illusions. No one would ever look on her like that. She would never have a child of her own.
Furious, she scrubbed herself.
She was just reaching for a jug to rinse her hair, when a Cinna said, ‘Let me. Tilt your head back.’
‘You’re the warlord’s lady. You shouldn’t be acting as my maid.’
‘Before I came here, I slept in the scullery with the other maids. We would do each other’s hair and whisper our secrets.’ Cinna adjusted Florin’s head and poured water over her. ‘Now everyone keeps me at a distance because I’m their lord’s lady.’
Cinna was the illegitimate daughter of one of Ostron Isle’s great families. And she spied for the mage. Was this part of her job? Getting close to Byren’s...
‘I’m not Byren’s lover, if that’s what you’re thinking,’ Florin said. ‘I don’t know his secrets.’ But even as she said this, Florin realised she did. She knew more about Byren than anyone other than Orrade.
Cinna sat back, hands on her hips. ‘Have I ever—’
‘Don’t lie.’ Florin pushed wet hair from her face. ‘I like you. But if you lie to me...’
As Cinna’s eyes glittered with angry tears, Florin realised she had deeply offended the wife of Byren’s last remaining ally.
Even so... ‘I’ll never betray Byren.’
‘I know, and I wouldn’t ask you to.’ Cinna flushed. ‘Just as I’d never betray Feid.’
‘It’s not like that.’ Florin wasn’t going to explain what it was like. ‘Besides, I know you serve the mage.’
‘He helped Byren defeat Palatyne and win Merofynia.’
‘I thought Lord Dun—’
‘Dunstany is the mage’s ally. And Mage Tsulamyth’s goal is peace.’
Florin blinked. ‘How do you know that? Have you met him? And, even if you have, how do you know he speaks the truth?’
‘You have to put aside your Rolencian prejudices. Power-workers can be good or bad.’ She saw Florin was about to speak and hurried on. ‘When I was twelve, and my cousin offered me the chance to serve the mage I asked him much the same thing as you. This is what he said. Tsulamyth is over two hundred years old. He earned the title of mage as the most powerful Affinity worker of our age. Yet he lives on Mage Isle, which is smaller than Feidton. With his Affinity he could rule the known world, but for all these years he’s dedicated himself to preserving the balance of power between Rolencia, Merofynia and Ostron Isle. I serve him because he works for peace.’ Cinna tilted her head. ‘Now will you trust me?’
Florin considered. Cinna had assumed she was ignorant and prejudiced because she’d grown up in Rolencia, but she’d grown up in the tradepost, and knew far more of the world than the average Rolencian. She shrugged. ‘I suppose if he wanted to enslave us all, he’d have done it by now.’
Cinna laughed and reached for a cloth. ‘Come. Feid will be meeting with Byren. We don’t want to miss it.’
That was another thing Florin envied. Feid shared everything with his wife. He might ride off to war with his men, but he’d discuss it with her first. Florin didn’t know if other spar warlords were like this, but she suspected they weren’t.
One part of her wanted to announce that what Byren did was no concern of hers, and that she was going to collect Leif and go home. Her family had already sacrificed their home, their good name and their father in Byren’s cause. Surely he would not ask more of her?
But another part of her was fascinated. She wanted to listen to the war-table discussion. She wanted to see Byren one last time.
Florin dressed hurriedly in borrowed breeches. She bound her breasts, dropped a thigh-length shirt over her shoulders and plaited her still-damp hair. ‘Ready.’
‘That was quick.’
‘That’s one of the advantages of being a man.’
‘Not in Ostron Isle or Merofynia, where they dress like peacocks.’ As they went down the passage, Cinna slid her arm around Florin’s waist, speaking softly. ‘We’ve received word that Fyn’s been having trouble in Merofynia. There’ve been spar uprisings and an Utland attack on Port Mero. Byren may want to return to Merofynia. Feid will advise against this. The
longer Cobalt sits on the throne, the harder it will be to unseat him. You—’
‘Byren doesn’t listen to my advice.’
Cinna gave her a shrewd look before opening the door to the stronghold’s war-table chamber.
Byren and Orrade stood with Feid on one side of the table, while three foreign-looking men stood on the other side. The tallest of them was no bigger than Cinna, and all wore brightly coloured robes that came to their knees, tight breeches and boots. The robes were decorated with elaborate embroidery. Unusual curved blades hung from the wide belts on their hips.
But this was not strangest thing about them. The strangest thing was their colouring. Rather than the normal blue-black, their hair was a washed-out brown and their eyes ranged from hazel to greeny-blue.
Florin recognised them. ‘Snow Bridge people.’ She smiled and performed the correct bow of respect, hands folded to each shoulder, bending from the waist. ‘Earth-meets-sky, Florin meets...’
‘Lord Vlatajor,’ their leader supplied and returned the bow. ‘Earth-meets-sky, Lord Vlatajor meets Florin. How is it that you know our customs?’
‘Some of your people came to my family’s tradepost when I was a child. One of them had broken his leg and could not travel, so his companions left him with us while they traded. It was my job to bring him food. He taught me to play spring-seeds—’
‘Ah, the spring-seed game,’ Vlatajor nodded and glanced to his companions and translated. They nodded in turn.
Florin cast Byren and Orrade a quick, questioning look.
‘Lord Vlatajor brings a message from his brother, the king of the Snow Bridge,’ Orrade said. ‘King Jorgoskev offers trained warriors to help Byren reclaim Rolencia, in exchange for an alliance by marriage with one of his daughters.’
‘But...’ Florin’s mind raced. Another kingsdaughter, who could offer so much more than her? Florin hated the girl already, but there was no chance the Snow Bridge kingsdaughter would ever marry Byren, not when... ‘But he’s already betrothed to Queen Isolt of Merofynia.’
‘As I was just explaining,’ Byren said.
King Breaker Page 40
