She glanced inside the cage where there was water and food aplenty. That wasn't the problem. He'd missed her and her Affinity.
At the thought of it, she felt her power stir and, before she could stop it, her hands began to tingle with a build up of Affinity.
This winter she'd grown into the habit of letting the unistag lick the excess power off her fingertips but, when they'd been forced to leave the Affinity beast with the new warlord of unistag, she hadn't been able relieve her Affinity build-up. Now the foenix grew excited as it rubbed its throat and cheeks on her hands and, even as she watched, its feathers regained their usual brilliance.
'So you were absorbing Affinity from me all along and I wasn't even aware of it,' she whispered.
'Here? You!' A Merofynian warrior addressed her in badly accented Rolencian. 'Leave that… that… Is that a foenix?'
'Yes, sor.' Piro instinctively dropped into the dialect of a badly educated servant girl. 'Belonged to Piro Kingsdaughter, herself. Was my job to feed the beastie.'
He swung the cloak off his shoulders and approached, obviously intent on capturing the foenix.
Piro sprang to her feet. 'You can't eat it, sor. It's full of Affinity.'
'I know that.' He glared at her. 'That's why I'm taking it to the overlord. He collects treasures. Close your mouth and lend a hand.'
'He won't hurt it, will he?'
The warrior clipped her over the ear. 'You'll get more of that if you give me cheek. Now, catch it for me.'
The foenix had ducked behind Piro and was shaking with fright. Stomach churning, she took the cloak from the man and spoke coaxingly as she scooped it up.
She turned to face the Merofynian. 'He needs — '
'I'll take that.' He snatched the beast from her greedily as though it was pure gold. 'As for you, get inside. All servants are to gather in the great hall.'
She nodded and turned to slip away, unable to believe her good luck.
'Wait.'
It was midsummer's day and Byren walked across the shingles on the shore of Sapphire Lake, the soles of his feet burning with each step. Try as he might, he could not reach the inviting cool shallows of the lake, which remained forever just out of reach. So thirsty, so hot… He could have roared with frustration, but only a whimper escaped him. To make matters worse, someone was poking him in the side with a spear, driving him on, making every breath a sharp pain. Couldn't they see he was doing his best to reach the lake?
From a great distance he heard a voice muttering.
'…burning up with fever. Shakin' like a leaf.'
He struggled to open his eyes but they would not obey him for more than a heartbeat. Frustration made him grind his teeth.
'Kingson, hold on. I'm taking you to a healer.' The dyer spoke slowly to reach Byren through the delirium of the fever.
But no healer could save him. At least, not one you'd find in a Rolencian village. Maybe the greatest of healers could have used their Affinity… he should have gone to Sylion Abbey the moment he realised the dagger had pierced his lung, but he'd wanted to reach his father. And, if he had, he would never had met up with the ulfr pack.
Pity he'd never get the chance to tell Orrade about it. Sylion take him, Orrade was angry with him. He'd compared his best friend to Lence. He should never have done that. Orrade's heart was true. It was his preference for men that was a problem.
He missed Orrade. Missed the pack. Missed their warming presence, missed their song. He seemed to hear it in his head, feel it in his body. It soothed him.
Byren felt a small hand pat his chest in sympathy. The boy laughed. 'He's just like Puss. He's purring, Da.'
Byren felt the dyer press his hand to the same place.
'You're right, Rodien. He's not shakin', he's purring like a cat. Wonders never cease.'
'Thirsty,' Byren managed to croak.
Something cool touched his face and watered wine slipped past his lips. His drank eagerly.
They took it away much too soon. He tried to grab them, but they'd tied his arms down. For a moment he fought panic as he imagined them handing him over to the Merofynians, then he remembered them securing him to the sled. Now they were taking him to a healer. No point.
Who would mourn him? Certainly not King Rolen.
Lence was gone and Elina… his gut clenched and a moan escaped him. He'd failed Elina. He should never have left her at Dovecote. But she'd refused to speak with him because she believed he was in love with her brother.
Orrade, Sylion take him. Orrade was angry with him because he'd let Elina die. But Byren could not have saved her, not when she'd tried to turn Lence's sword to save his life. Her wrists were not strong enough to stop the full force of the blow. Elina had known. She'd given her life for his and thought it a fair trade.
Tears stung Byren's eyes, slipping down his cheeks, trickling into his ears where they tickled. The sled gave a jerk and started moving again, making his body vibrate, making him ache in every bone.
He was sick, very sick, not thinking clearly.
That's right, he was dying. Why didn't they let him do it in peace?
Piro paused, heart thudding. As she turned back to face the warrior, she summoned a stupid expression.
'Are there any more Affinity beasts?' the Merofynian asked, eyes bright with avarice.
'No, sor. The unistag died this winter just gone.'
He looked disappointed, then grinned, patting the foenix. 'Better than nothing, and easier to transport than a unistag. Get going, girl.'
She darted away, entering the connecting passage where she saw two men-at-arms, the azure crests on their black garments stained purple with blood. They confronted several castle servants and Halcyon's healer.
'I can't go to the hall. I must tend the injured,' the healer objected. She was nearing seventy and Piro had known her all her life.
Thwack.
The nearest Merofynian backhanded her. Knocked off her feet, the healer flew into the wall, reminding Piro how Lence had unintentionally killed the old seer with one swing of his hand.
Before Lence had thrust her aside, the seer had said the queen lived a lie and because of it Rolencia would fall and those she loved would die. Piro had been certain she had been mistaken. But now she wondered what they might have learnt if they had used the seer's foresight to their advantage.
No point in if onlys. Her father would never have listened to a seer. He wouldn't even listen to her!
The Merofynian's blow had not killed the healer, for she moaned and clutched her shoulder. The two maidservants gasped and bit back cries of protest.
'Help her up and get moving.' The Merofynians drove their captives around the bend. Piro longed for a keen sword and the strength of her older brothers. But it was clear from today's events that strength and a good heart were no match for treachery and cruelty.
Blood rushed in Piro's ears, filling her head with a roaring sound as a waking memory superimposed itself over the now empty hall. In Piro's mind's eye she saw her recurrent nightmare given flesh. Today wyverns stalked the halls of Rolenhold. Her vision had come true and that made her wonder about the old seer's unspoken words.
The seer had been about to direct a foretelling to Piro, whose fear at the time had been that her Affinity would be exposed. She'd been grateful to Lence when he silenced the seer, then shocked when she realised he'd killed her. What would they have learnt if the seer had lived?
Had she been about to warn them that the castle would fall? Why couldn't the seer have been more specific? A hint about Cobalt's betrayal and the postern gate would have been really useful. Piro felt a bitter smile tug at her lips.
Well, no one was going to wipe out her family!
She had half a mind to slip away and find Lence and Byren right now, but her mother had told her to dress
