of a lady used to a servant's help. To cover her slip she sniffed and rubbed the back of her hand across her nose. 'Thankee, sor.'
She was surprised to see a light in his eyes that could have been amusement. The irises were so black his eyes seemed all pupil. So black, yet so full of light.
The revelry faded around her. Her breath caught in her throat. She was in danger of drowning.
With an effort that made her dizzy, she dragged her gaze from his and dipped her head in a servant's bow. Her tongue felt thick but she drove herself to speak. 'What can I do for you, sor?'
'You can do as you're told,' Lord Dunstany said, watching her thoughtfully.
Piro searched his face but she found it hard to meet his gaze without sliding into that other state. Now that her head was clear, she realised he had been trying to impose his will on her. Anger fired her. She was glad her father had banned all Affinity Power-working renegades, soothsayers and mages alike. Then she remembered that a slave girl wouldn't raise her eyes to a noble, especially if he was a renegade Power-worker, and she looked down quickly. 'Sorry, m'lord.'
'What can you do, girl?'
She could read and write in three languages, play the harp, paint watercolours, run a castle with six hundred inhabitants, keep the books and hand down law judgements, but none of that helped her now. The healer had said she was her apprentice so it was lucky her mother had schooled her in basic healing.
Piro bobbed her head, careful to stay in character. 'I been helping the healer. I can mix herbs and stitch a wound. An' me ma delivered babies, sor.'
His lips twitched. 'Well, I won't be needing you to deliver any babies. You can wait on me.'
'Yes, sor.'
'Lord Dunstany?' It was the man who had reported finding King Rolen's trophy room. 'Do you want to see the treasures?'
Piro could imagine them all up there with Palatyne handing out gifts to his loyal supporters.
'Treasures?' he repeated with a secretive smile. 'Those sort of treasures don't interest me. Come on, girl.'
Surprised, Piro scurried after him.
Chapter Twelve
Fyn reached Viridian Lake by mid-morning and strapped on the borrowed skates. It looked like the thaw would be late this spring, even so, Fyn kept to the edges where the ice was thickest. Twice more he had seen Merofynian search parties but managed to avoid them.
Viridian Lake, named because of the exquisite shade of its deep waters, was a long sinuous lake, connected at the far end by canal to Sapphire Lake. From there he was on the last leg of his journey to Rolenhold, where his father was probably wondering why the abbot had not sent aid.
Fyn could only hope that Byren's injury was not as bad as the Merofynians believed and that his brother had found some helpful farmers willing to risk their lives to save him.
Fyn stood on the borrowed skates. There was no wind and the sky was cloudless, which meant it would be frightfully cold when night fell, but this also meant the stars would be out in force, great swirls of effervescent colour to light his way.
And aid the Merofynian search parties.
Fear for Piro's safety and the news he had to deliver empowered him. Trusting to his disguise to fool any Merofynians who might spot him, Fyn set off. If he skated all night and all day he would reach Sapphire Lake by tomorrow evening and Rolenhold by the next day.
As Piro left her father's hall — where she had seen him host feasts, award honours and boast of his hunting skills — she let her hair fall forwards and focused on the ground. In a matter of days she had fallen from kingsdaughter to slave, just another prize of war.
All around her the raucous warriors roistered, eating and drinking, grabbing any passing wench they fancied. A servant, who only a few days ago had filled her bath, darted past hurrying to serve new masters. Piro averted her face.
They were out of the great hall now, walking through the bloodied courtyard, heading for the main gate. All around her the people of Rolenton shuffled past, driven back to the town. Dunstany kept well away from Palatyne's men, who were tossing bodies into an open cart.
Panic spiked in Piro. There, by the gate, was Cobalt's servant, the one who had been told to look out for her. He knew her face.
Dunstany stopped suddenly, turning to her. 'What is your name, girl?'
Panic seized her. How could she hide from the servant?
'Your name?' Dunstany pressed.
She hadn't thought that far ahead and said the first thing that came to her. 'Seela, sor.' Then she remembered that was a Merofynian name and hurried to add, 'My mother's mother come from — '
'I don't want your family history,' he snapped. 'Listen, Seela. I am your master now. Walk one step behind me and do not speak unless I give you permission. Understand?'
She nodded, feeling resentful — worse, feeling trapped. How could she escape the servant's notice?
'Come.' As Dunstany strode off towards the gate, Piro considered running away but he glanced back over his shoulder impatiently and she fell into step.
'Didn't they tell you?' Dunstany asked as he approached the man. 'They've already found the kingsdaughter. Palatyne's in King Rolen's trophy room handing treasures out to his faithful servants.'
Piro hovered behind Dunstany, grateful for his broad, if stooped, back. The man thanked the noble Power- worker and hurried off, eager to get his share of the treasure.
Piro swallowed. She was safe, safe as long as the man didn't think to check her body. 'Lord Dunstany? What happened to the bodies of the queen and the others?'
He glanced swiftly to her. 'They'll have been burned by now. We don't want anyone saving a lock of hair and selling it as a relic. Come along.'
His casual attitude stung, but she was relieved to hear the bodies had already been burnt. Now Cobalt's servant would never know that another girl had taken Piro's place.
As they walked down the steep winding road to Rolenton, the townsfolk gave them a wide berth. They were silent, shuffling along, defeated. She prayed none of them took a close look at her, for she was well known in town and at any moment someone might recognise her and give her away. She wanted to get out of sight as soon as possible.
'Where are we going, Lord Dunstany?' she asked softly.
'I did not give you permission to speak. But to answer your question, I prefer my own quarters as far from the Utlander and his twin brother as possible. Mark my words, Seela, if either of them approaches you they are up to no good.'
Piro nodded. She never intended to have anything to do with the other Power-workers, and the less she had to do with Dunstany the better. At least she was safe if she stayed in his dwelling and saw only his servants, for none of them would recognise her. Once there, she would lay low until she was ready to escape to the mountains.
Focusing on Dunstany's indigo robe, she followed the tall scholar. He strode along so fast that she had to take a skipping step every now and then to keep up.
At the town gate her step faltered. There was Captain Temor's head on a spike along with others from the king's honour guard, men she had known all her life. To her right the Merofynians were throwing bodies onto a bonfire. Yet she felt nothing but relief. What was wrong with her?
The position of the sun told her that it was only mid-afternoon. It felt like days had passed since her father rode out to meet Palatyne under a flag of truce, though it had only been this morning. Not a breath of wind stirred the air. In the cold, the heads would last a long time. Her throat grew tight with unshed tears.
'Look at me, not them!' Dunstany spun her around to face him, his black eyes fierce. He gave her a little
