It could be true, but his brother was still dead. The pain of loss tore at Fyn, making his voice ragged. 'Lence gave his betrothal vows in good faith and now he's dead.'
'And I'm sorry for it,' Isolt insisted. 'But truly, I did not know.'
Fyn hesitated. Had Isolt been an innocent piece in a game of Duelling Kingdoms she knew nothing about?
'Fyn? Is it really you?' Isolt's maid craned her head to see his face. 'Don't you know your own sister?'
'Piro?' Disbelievingly, he released her and his sister turned to face him. 'Piro… They told me you were dead.'
She laughed, but pain haunted her eyes. Then she noticed his swollen nose. 'You're bleeding.'
'Find something to clean him up,' Isolt ordered, but Piro had already darted across the room to a pitcher of water.
Delighted and a little stunned, Fyn watched his sister return with a bowl of water and a cloth.
'Sit down,' Isolt said, pushing his chest. He dropped onto a stool. Isolt lit a candle then turned his face to the light. A pucker of concern between her plucked brows, she cleaned the blood from his mouth and chin.
'Did I break his nose?' Piro asked, as she went around behind him, standing with her hands on his shoulders.
'I don't think so,' Isolt said. 'But it must hurt.'
'Only a little,' Fyn lied.
Isolt ignored him and rinsed the cloth. Folding it, she pressed it to his nose. 'Tilt your head back.'
'I am sorry, Fyn.' Piro's eyes twinkled above, as she supported his head. 'At least I didn't forget what you taught me.'
He grinned weakly. 'You're a sight for sore eyes. Why does everyone think you're dead? How did you come to be maidservant to King Merofyn's daughter?'
'I let them think another girl's body was mine and Lord Dunstany, the king's Power-worker, claimed me for his slave. Then Palatyne asked for me and gifted me to Isolt. How did you escape?'
'No time now,' Fyn told her, focused on his mission and Isolt. 'I've come to rescue you. My ship is waiting.' He could not help searching Isolt's face to see if she was impressed.
She removed the cloth. 'Good, the bleeding has stopped.' After dropping the bloodied cloth in the bowl, she turned away without meeting his eyes or commenting.
'This is perfect, Isolt,' Piro said. 'My brother can get us away from Merofynia. I didn't say it before, but I think King Merofyn and Palatyne could force the abbess to hand you over even if you became a nun.'
'We can't go to Rolencia,' Isolt said. 'We'd have to go to — '
'Ostron Isle. The elector always remains neutral so he can profit from our wars,' Fyn said, as he came to his feet. The longer they delayed, the more chance there was of discovery. 'If Palatyne gets his hands on Piro or me, our lives are forfeit. Come with me, Isolt, and I promise you'll be safe from Palatyne.'
'It means placing myself under the elector's protection and becoming a pawn in his power games.' Her black eyes blazed. 'But it's better than becoming Palatyne's trophy queen!'
'Good. Now, all we have to do is get out of here.' Piro turned expectantly to Fyn.
This was better than Fyn had hoped, his sister back from the dead and Isolt Kingsdaughter cooperating in her own abduction. Only now he wasn't kidnapping her, he was rescuing her. 'We'll slip out the back of the tent and down to the… What are you doing?'
Isolt and Piro had begun sorting clothes.
'I can't go dressed only in my night gown,' Isolt pointed out.
It was rose-coloured silk, so fine it was almost transparent. Fyn looked away quickly and cleared his throat. 'You must leave everything. Make it look like you were taken against your will.'
'Good idea. That will confuse Palatyne's spy,' Piro said, tipping over a chest and spilling its contents to make it appear there'd been a struggle. She tipped the water from the bowl and draped the bloodied cloth artistically on an upturned stool. 'This will convince them!'
'Excellent.' Isolt beamed, then turned to Fyn. 'What about shoes? And a cloak to keep out the chill?'
'Take nothing. I have a boat waiting, a ten minute walk from here. On second thoughts, you will need shoes, but nothing else.'
Isolt knelt to lace up delicate jewelled sandals.
Fyn glanced to Piro, who had slipped on shoes and was about to pick up her foenix. How did it get to Merofynia? He stared at the sleepy bird in his ornate cage. That was all they needed, pet birds. 'Piro, I…'
Her chin lifted.
He sighed, recognising defeat when he saw it. 'All right, but keep him quiet.'
'Come, my pretty.' Piro lifted the cage. 'Ready.'
His sister and the kingsdaughter followed Fyn from the enemy camp. A blaze of starlight illuminated the night, bright enough to cast shadows. It was a pity it was not cloudy. Fyn hesitated in the tent's shadow. Now that he had two lives in his care, fear almost paralysed him. How could he protect these trusting girls?
He tapped Piro on the shoulder and pointed to a thicket. He had not come in that way, but it was a quicker path to the boat and escape. She nodded her understanding and ran across the open ground into the shadow under the trees. The foenix did not cry out. No alarm was given.
Fyn caught Isolt's hand and set off. Entering the shadow he smelled horses — no, donkeys. They stirred, reacting to the scent of the foenix. Fyn cursed silently. The bird made an interrogative sound.
'Hush, my pretty,' Piro whispered.
'Come.' Fyn turned to lead them on.
A broad-shouldered outline detached itself from the night, cutting off their escape. They had only a heartbeat before the camp was alerted. A donkey, sensing their fear, gave its strident bray.
The sentry drew his sword. 'Who goes there?'
As the man stepped forwards to strike, Fyn darted in and caught his sword arm. Pulling him off balance, Fyn swung the man around and snapped his neck without making a sound.
The sentry's body collapsed.
Fyn straightened up. Both Piro and Isolt stared at him.
A muffled query came from the next sentry. Another donkey brayed with fright and the others shifted, pulling at their ropes.
'Run for it!' Fyn pushed both of the girls ahead of him.
A shout told them the sentry's body had been found. More shouts followed as the alarm was raised.
Fyn ducked to avoid low branches, praying none of them would fall and twist an ankle on the shadowed, uneven ground.
The reached the dunes. Soft sand slid away under their feet, impeding their progress. The girls floundered. Breath rasping in his throat, Fyn caught both their arms and dragged them up the steep rise to the crest of the next dune. From here they could see the small cove, its pale sand gleaming in the starlight. Piro gasped, struggling with the weight of the foenix in its cage.
'There's the ship.' Fyn pointed to the Wyvern's Whelp, a dark shadow on the glittering sea. 'We're nearly safe.'
He glanced behind him. Pursuers lumbered up the sand after them.
He shoved both girls down the steep dune. They skidded through deep sand drifts, sliding to the base, the cage swaying wildly. He followed.
He pulled Piro upright, pointing to where Bantam had dragged the row boat into the shallows. 'Run.'
Then he pulled Isolt to her feet.
She stared at him. 'You killed that sentry quicker than a striking snake. What are you, an assassin?'
Fyn went to deny this, but someone shouted from the crest of the dune behind them. 'To the boat.'
Piro was already running. Isolt took off. Fyn ran after her, ready to stop and fight to ensure they got away safely if need be.
They made better time on the hard sand left by the retreating tide. As they ran towards the boat, the large figure of Jakulos charged past Fyn to defend their backs. Metal rang against metal. A man cried out.
Bantam already had the boat in the shallows, his hands on the oars. Fyn caught up with the girls, took the foenix's cage while Piro scrambled into the boat, then returned the cage. Next he caught Isolt around the waist and
