want, but I can't have her, so I don't want anyone else to have her. 'This is Florin. She saved my life and, when I'm king, I mean to see her set up for life.' As he said it, he realised this much was true. He hadn't been able to save Elina or his mother, but he would make sure that Florin was safe.
'Cinna, come here,' Feid called.
A pretty lass, with her hair all atumble, peered around the door. Feid dragged her against his body with a possessive air. Byren held his breath as Feid's lady looked Florin up and down, taking in her men's clothes and her dirty face. A kitchen maid, elevated to the status of a lady, might just turn her nose up at Florin. Many would.
'You poor thing,' Cinna exclaimed in Ostronite. As she drew Florin into the chamber, she switched to heavily accented Rolencian, talking about a bath and clothing altered to fit.
Florin cast a desperate look over her shoulder, but allowed Cinna to lead her off, and all Byren could hear was the lady's happy chatter.
Feid stepped out of the chamber, closing the door after him. 'She's got a kind heart, Cinna. She'll find a husband for your lass, if you want.'
'No.' Byren spoke too quickly. 'At least, not just yet. I'm going to clean up for the feast. You know, I won't forget this, Feid.'
He grinned. 'That's what I'm counting on.'
Much later that night, Byren stood on the stronghold's tallest tower, watching the stars.
He grinned to himself.
Florin had come down to the feast in a borrowed gown, one made for someone a head shorter — it revealed her calves rather than her ankles, but it clung elsewhere, being laced around the waist. When he'd asked her to dance she'd refused, saying she didn't know any dances fit for court. Byren would hardly call Feid's great hall a fancy court, but he'd told the musicians to play a country dance. To which she'd insisted she never danced. He'd told her she did now because it was the only chance she'd have to report what she'd learnt so far.
He smiled, remembering how quickly she'd picked up the steps and how earnestly she'd related her observations of Lady Cinna. All of which had been quite innocent, if revealing of Florin's discomfort with her current situation.
But the smile soon left his face. Though he was exhausted, Byren could not sleep. He paced the tower. Tomorrow Warlord Feid would send four swift boats to the other spars, calling on the warlords to support the rightful king of Rolencia.
All Byren could do now was wait, and he hated not being in control. Give him a fort to take, a beast to kill or a border to hold and he would, but this waiting stole a man's spirit.
Someone pushed the trap door open behind him.
'Orrie,' Byren greeted him with relief. 'What brings you up here?'
He was followed by one of the young monks.
'Feldspar has something to tell you,' Orrade said and stepped aside. 'Go on, lad.'
The youth hesitated.
A cold wind cut through Byren's jacket. 'Spit it out.'
'It's the mystics master, kingsheir. Even though he drugs himself each night with dreamless-sleep he moans in his sleep.'
'A man can't be responsible for his nightmares,' Byren said.
'If they are only nightmares,' Feldspar whispered.
'What are you saying?'
'By creating the illusion in the foenix cavern Master Catillum laid himself open to untamed Affinity. I know. I felt him fight it.' Feldspar let out his breath with a shudder. 'I fear he fights it still.'
Byren noticed Orrade touch his sword hilt, and shook his head swiftly. 'We each fight our battles in our own way. The mystics master has proved his loyalty to me, Feldspar. I want you to watch him. If it looks like he's failing to win his private battle, let me know.'
'You can't ask this of me,' Feldspar blurted, backing up a step. 'I'm not trained.'
'Who else can I ask?'
Feldspar gaped.
'Bring word to me, not to Byren,' Orrade said. He caught Byren's eye. 'Catillum might grow suspicious if one of his monks seeks you out.'
Byren nodded, then took pity on the youth. 'Go down to bed, lad.'
When he slipped away, Byren paced and Orrade walked with him.
'I swear it's colder out here on the spar than in Rolencia.' Orrade pulled his cloak more closely around his shoulders. 'Sylion knows, I feel for the mystics master but it'd be safer to kill Catillum now.'
'Safer, but would it be right? A man should have the chance to prove himself. Besides, I'd lose the support of his monks.'
'His death could be made to look like an accident.'
Byren stopped. 'Since when were you so quick to deal in death?'
'Since I became your spymaster.' Orrade faced him. 'I will always tell you the truth, whether you want to hear it or not. If Catillum's Affinity is compromised and we wait too long, it may be too late to contain him. He's powerful, Byren.'
'You're right. But I won't be that kind of ruler, Orrie.' Byren hid his disquiet. 'Catillum's loyal for now. Let's not borrow trouble. We have enough of our own.'
'You stayed your hand the night Dovecote fell. You let Palatyne rape my sister, so the others had time to escape. I thought you hard then — '
'And you think me weak now?' Byren asked, his voice growing tense. The memory of that night still tortured him. It would as long as he lived.
'No…' Orrade admitted. 'I think you've made another hard decision, for the right reason. You see clearly, Byren. Further than me.'
He shook his head. 'Your mind's sharper than mine.'
'Maybe, but perhaps not as…' he shrugged, 'honourable.'
Byren snorted.
'I would kill for you, Byren. Willingly kill to protect you.'
It came to Byren then that Orrade made the best kind of spymaster, ruthless and utterly devoted. 'I'm lucky to have you. Orrade shrugged and resumed pacing. 'We should hear back from Leogryf and Unistag Spars soon. But it will take Feid's messengers longer to reach Manticore and Cockatrice Spars.'
'And who knows if Cockatrice has settled on a warlord, since you killed Rejulas?'
The night Dovecote fell, Orrade had killed the Cockatrice warlord. He'd had no choice for, in the mistaken belief that he was helping Lence seize the crown, Warlord Rejulas had opened his pass to Palatyne, giving him access to Rolencia's soft underbelly.
'The new Cockatrice warlord should be eager to prove his spar's loyalty,' Orrade muttered. 'How long will you wait for the last two warlords' responses? The longer we delay, the more defences will be added to the new fort over Foenix Pass.'
He was right. More decisions. 'Ask me tomorrow.' Byren faked a yawn, which turned into a real one. 'I'm for bed.'
But, even in his bed, he could not sleep. For once, Orrade did not stretch out beside him and Byren missed his presence. His friend was stretched out on the floor, along with the rest of Byren's honour guard. Beyond the bed's rich drapes their snores filled the darkness.
Byren lay on his back, staring up at the canopy, which was all but lost in the darkness, as he wrestled with the decisions he'd made and had yet to make. He wished he had as much faith in himself as Orrade had.
These moral dilemmas were why he had not craved the kingship. How did he know what was the right decision? The crazy old seer had known what she was talking about.
Pity she was long dead.
Dusk, two days later, Byren met with Warlord Unace's representative. The uprising had decimated her forces, so she'd sent one of her few surviving kinsmen, an old man with white hair and a tendency to shout due to his deafness. Consequently the meeting was short.
As Master Catillum and Feid escorted Unace's kinsman out of the war table chamber, Byren caught Orrade's
