kingdom. That's where you come in, Isolt. The Merofynian ambassador said the words of betrothal on your behalf. Since Lence is dead, you are betrothed to Byren according to both Merofynian and Rolencian law.'
'I don't want to be betrothed to anyone. I'm not some king's trophy.'
'Well said.' Piro applauded. 'I never asked to be betrothed to Rejulas. Why should we kingsdaughters be married off as prizes?'
They both glared at Fyn, righteously indignant, itching for a fight.
'You're right,' he said, sitting down and popping a grape in his mouth, as though he didn't care how they responded. 'When we get to Ostron Isle, leave this ship and walk away. Earn your bread as maids in a bakery for all I care.' He paused to let this sink in, then leant forwards, his voice growing hard. 'But if anyone discovers who you are, you will be killed or transported back to Merofynia. You can't deny your standing and you both have a role to play in this game.'
'Curse the game of Kingdoms!' Isolt whispered.
'It's not so bad being a maid, when you've been a slave,' Piro said. 'At least I'd be free.'
Fyn had never thought she would take his suggestion seriously. He reached for her hand across the desk. 'Stay with me, Piro. I've lost you once already. I couldn't bear to lose you again.'
Piro smiled and came around to stand behind where he sat. She hugged his shoulders and kissed the top of his head, then laughed, rubbing his hair. 'I can't get used to seeing you with hair. You should be bald and tattooed!'
Fyn grinned self-consciously.
'You two are lucky,' Isolt whispered. 'You have each other. I have no one. Even my mother hated my father more than she loved me.'
Fyn's heart went out to her.
Isolt met his eyes. She glanced away suddenly and pulled the blanket more tightly around her shoulders. 'I'm tired. Where will I sleep?'
He should have thought of that. 'I'll ask the captain — '
'It's as cold as Cyena's breath out there!' As if speaking of him had called him up, Nefysto thrust the door open. He spoke Merofynian out of courtesy to Isolt as he gave her a flamboyant Ostronite bow. 'Welcome aboard, kingsdaughter. We won't be taking the trade route back to Ostron Isle. Don't want anyone coming after us. We'll veer out to sea and plot a path back by the stars. If we avoid the Utlands and the trade routes we'll be safe from raiders, and any wyverns bold enough to climb on board for a snack better beware!'
Nefysto laughed. Pulling off his fleece-lined weather-proof, he dropped it onto a chair and turned to Fyn. 'Now what's this, Agent Monk? You go off to rescue a kingsdaughter and come back with her, her maid and a pet bird?'
'We couldn't manage the rest of her luggage,' Fyn said.
Isolt giggled then covered her mouth, as though surprised at herself.
At that moment, Runt came in and darted around the cabin, gathering the captain's clothing and personal items.
Nefysto's gaze returned to Isolt, and his lips parted in a smile of appreciation. 'Allow me to offer my cabin, such as it is. And allow me to introduce myself, since Agent Monk's manners are sadly lacking.' He gave another elaborate bow. 'Captain Nefysto, of the Wyvern's Whelp, at your service, Isolt Merofyn Kingsdaughter.'
Fyn was certain Nefysto came from one of the great merchant families of Ostron Isle, but for whatever reason, he chose to keep his true identity a secret. When the opportunity arose, Fyn introduced Piro as Seela, the maid.
'Grab a blanket, girls,' Nefysto said. 'Come with me now and I'll show you Mulcibar's Gate. It's at its best at night. A fine way to farewell Merofynia.' And he swept them out to see the river of slow-moving liquid rock that bubbled up from deep inside the earth before flowing down one of the headlands that guarded Mero Bay.
Fyn waited until they were gone, then he knelt on the cabin's floor, facing east, as best he could judge. East was the goddess's direction. He had not prayed to Halcyon since the abbey fell, but tonight he felt he needed her forgiveness.
Tonight he had killed.
It had been a conscious decision to permanently silence the sentry. The man had been armed, he had been about to alert the others, but Fyn still felt for him. The man had a mother somewhere, perhaps a wife and children. After all, the sentry had only been doing his job.
Tears stung Fyn's eyes and he welcomed them. He would not become a callous killer like Palatyne.
Fyn folded his hands in his lap and cleared his mind, seeking the solace of Halcyon's blessing. He sat there for a long time but the mental state he used to be able to achieve back at the abbey eluded him. Eventually, a soft noise broke his concentration. He looked up to see Isolt in the doorway.
'I'm sorry. I did not know you were praying. I'll go.'
'No.' Fyn rose. 'This is your cabin, you must be tired. I'll go.'
'There are tears on your cheeks.'
'Tonight I killed a man.'
'The sentry? But — '
'I know. I know…' Fyn sighed. 'I was raised to believe life is precious. Every time I kill, it kills something in me. A single death here, a few more there. Every time it will get easier, until the day I order the execution of an innocent man because he is in my way.' He hesitated. He'd almost mentioned his mother's brother, Sefon, but held back since it had been Isolt's own father who'd ordered the young king assassinated. 'I will not become that man.'
Isolt frowned. 'Then why do you serve the mage?'
'I must, to win back Rolencia and restore Byren to the throne.'
'What about you? If Byren died you would be the uncrowned king.'
Fyn stepped back, revolted by the thought. 'He's my brother.'
Isolt studied him, beautiful eyes thoughtful. 'Then Byren is a very lucky man.'
That was when Fyn realised Byren was a very lucky man indeed. Not because Fyn knew his duty but because he was betrothed to Isolt.
Startled by this revelation, Fyn took another step back and bowed stiffly. 'Goodnight, kingsdaughter.'
Chapter Fifteen
Fyn smiled and stretched. It seemed like he had been running, living on his wits, avoiding death since the abbey fell. It was good to be safe. They'd left the shipping lanes and been sailing east all morning, picking their way through the islands too barren for even the hardy Utlanders to settle. These islands were nothing more than spires of rock. Now that it was spring, it was warm enough to stay on deck without a fleecy jacket.
'Good boy,' Piro cried as she scooped up the foenix and rewarded him with a morsel of meat. She was teaching her pet to come when she called by giving him dried fish scraps.
'You'll make that bird too fat to fly,' Fyn teased.
Piro just tossed her head and crossed to the far rail of the ship to put the foenix down, then returned to Fyn, to call the bird gain. The man at the wheel watched her. All morning he'd been dividing his time between watching Isolt and Piro. He'd made no secret of his appreciation of them both and Fyn could not help bristling.
The foenix had grown since Fyn last saw him. With his long legs and elongated neck, his head now came up to Piro's waist. And he was beginning to grow the elaborate comb on his crown, but he was still only an infant. The foenix lifted one wing, preening and ignoring Piro's soft calls.
'That Affinity beast is more like a cat than a dog. He only comes when he wants to,' Fyn said, and although he was not watching her face, he knew Isolt smiled. He was deeply aware of her, standing by his side as they leant on the rail. His body ached with the knowledge that he could simply reach out and touch her. If he dared. If she was not betrothed to his brother.
Isolt turned to look down onto the sparkling sea. 'I always wanted a pet, but father would never let me have one. He said pets made you weak, that caring for things made you weak. No one could accuse him of that.'
