Yes, cannibalised by him! A surge of fury strengthened Piro's fragile limbs.
Palatyne bent down and dragged the royal emblem from around the queen's neck, dropping it over his own head to join the others.
Piro touched hers. It felt like a brand, emblazoned with her identity, condemning her to death.
Cobalt moaned, still swaying on his knees, clutching the bloody stump of his arm.
Palatyne studied him for a moment, and Piro felt Cobalt's life hang in the balance.
'Save him if you can. I can still use him.' Palatyne turned his back on the injured man and beckoned Cobalt's new servant, the one who Piro was sure was also a Merofynian spy for, the day her mother was arrested, she had seen the flash of a wyvern tail in the back of his mind when he confronted her on the stairs.
As the Utland Power-worker organised three men-at-arms to carry Cobalt away, Palatyne confronted Cobalt's servant.
'Has there been word of the kingson?' Palatyne asked, his hand going to his chest to stroke the three royal emblems that lay there.
Three?
Piro's heart faltered. Her mother and father's. Whose was the third?
Not Fyn, he was safe at the abbey. If Lence had been at Dovecote then he'd have been in Palatyne's path. If one of her twin brothers were to die, let it be Lence!
Piro experienced a surge of guilt.
'Byren Kingson has not been heard of since he was sent to bring help from Halcyon Abbey,' the man reported.
'Don't worry about him. What of Pirola?' Palatyne demanded. 'The kingsdaughter?'
'It was thought she had been sent to Sylion Abbey, but Cobalt recognised her hiding amongst the townsfolk.'
'You know her face?'
He nodded.
'Go to the gate. I've ordered the townsfolk sent back to Rolenton. If she gets past you, I'll have your head. Understand?'
The man nodded, his face growing pale.
As he scurried off, Palatyne turned to the servants. 'Is she hiding amongst you lot? Come on, give her up!'
No one spoke. They froze, staring at him like rabbits enthralled by a snake.
He threw back his head and laughed.
A voice piped up in the echo of his laugh. 'It takes a brave man to kill defenceless women and children.'
Piro winced as she recognised the blind spit-turner.
Palatyne nodded to his men, who dragged the old man over to the overlord. 'Repeat that.'
'I said, it takes a brave man to murder women and children,' he said, voice wavering only with age.
'What would you know? You can't even see!'
'I don't need eyes to see into your heart. Your men must be blind to follow — '
His words died on his lips as Palatyne thrust a hunting knife through his heart. The overlord kicked the body aside dismissively but Piro could tell the blind man's words had made the men uneasy.
'Tonight we break open barrels of the castle's best Rolencian red to celebrate in King Merofyn's name!' Palatyne roared. 'But first — a bag of gold for the man who brings me the kingsdaughter, dead or alive.'
Dozens of them scrambled to do his bidding.
As if freed from a spell, Piro turned and fled, cursing the rich embroidered gown which proclaimed her status.
She knew the castle intimately. As a child she'd played hide-and-seek with her brothers. Now, moving on soundless feet, she ran down the storage passage, heading for her usual hiding places. Then she stopped.
Hiding was pointless. Eventually she would have to come out for food. Palatyne's men would search until they found her.
What could she do?
Men yelled, their voices coming closer as they slammed doors and thundered up stairs searching room by room. This was her nightmare come true. The dreams had become reality. She should have been forewarned!
No time for regrets.
Desperate, Piro sprinted down the long corridor, darting through a stillroom into the castle laundry beyond. Here she almost tripped over a girl, whose head lay at a funny angle.
Piro turned her over. Someone must have struck her — her nose was broken. The lower half of her face was obscured by blood. Piro felt the girl's throat. No pulse. Then she noticed the overturned chair and the narrow window. The poor thing had been trying to climb out when her chair tipped and she had fallen, breaking her neck.
Biting back a sob of despair, Piro ran on, but in the storeroom beyond she caught sight of men tossing aside cured meats and smashing preserves as they searched.
Trapped.
Ducking back into the laundry, Piro stood over the slight, dark-haired girl, thinking furiously. Palatyne had sent his men to bring back King Rolen's daughter. Here was a dead girl of the right age.
Her own life hung in the balance. This was no time to be squeamish.
The poor girl's skirt and shirt weren't bloodied, but the apron was. Piro flung off her own red gown, then knelt and undid the girl's garments, begging her forgiveness for this desecration.
First, she freed the girl's hair from its bun and pinned her own cap of red velvet and gold lace in place. With no time to make a neat bun of her own hair, she twisted it up and knotted the thick length once.
As she went to pull her dress onto the girl's limp form, her emblem swung forwards. Must not forget that, and the Keys of Office. Piro tugged the emblem off and slung it over the girl's neck. Luckily the poor maid was slightly smaller than Piro so it was easy to get the costly gown laced up and belt tied with the Keys of Office in place.
She tugged on the girl's skirt and shirt, then barely had time to toss the bloodied apron onto a pile of dirty washing and pluck a clean one from the laundered clothes, dropping it over her shoulders before the overlord's men flung the door open, startling her.
Piro gave a shriek of real fear and dropped to her knees next to the body of the girl in the red velvet dress. 'Don't touch 'er, don't you touch the kingsdaughter!'
She wept and kicked, throwing herself over the body. Using the rough speech of the servants, she swore at them, repeating words she'd overheard the grooms mutter when a harness broke.
One lifted Piro by the shoulder straps of the apron, as if she was a kitten, and tucked her under his arm, while the other turned the imposter-Piro over onto her back.
At that moment Piro noticed the girl's grubby, bare feet and recalled her own hand-sewn slippers. Sick fear gripped her, but she had not come this far to be caught and killed. Quick as a thought, she slipped her toes into the slippers' heels and kicked them off. She kicked them off one after the other, weeping and writhing all the while to disguise her actions.
'The kingsdaughter is dead,' the first man muttered in Merofynian, having inspected the body. He pointed. 'Tried to climb out the window. Lost her good shoes.' He bent and scooped them up. After inspecting the beading and seeing the semi-precious stones, he pocketed the slippers.
'Dead is dead. Let's get our reward!' the other said. 'And I'll have one of them slippers, thanks.'
'Of course,' the first agreed.
Without another word, her captor threw Piro over his shoulder, while the other man scooped up the limp form of the dead serving girl in the red velvet gown. Piro prayed they would not notice the supposed kingsdaughter's dirty feet, or her own clean toes.
The men strode up the passage, talking of how they would spend their reward. Hanging over the man's shoulder, Piro felt dizzy and nauseous. When they marched into the great hall, all the rich wall hangings and men- at-arms in Merofynian colours swung past her upside-down.
Dumping her on the floor by the great fireplace with the other servants, the men marched across to their overlord with the body of the dead girl.
