Orrade smiled. 'Understood.'
Byren looked into their expectant faces. 'Right. Let's get ready.'
Byren's honour guard had already rolled up their sleeping mats, now they filed out, eager for breakfast and a chance to reclaim Rolencia. Last out was Orrade, who glanced once to the bed before shutting the door behind him.
Heart thudding, Byren pulled the bed curtain back to find Florin kneeling, head cocked to one side, listening intently. There was nothing wanton in her pose, but his body thought otherwise.
'They're gone?' she said.
He nodded.
'Good.' She thrust past him, tantalisingly close. 'I can be ready to leave in a few moments.'
Byren's heart sank. He already had Garzik and Elina's deaths on his conscience. He stared at her. How could he convince her to stay in the Foenix stronghold?
He couldn't. Short of locking her up, and that was just insulting. But he didn't have to put her in harm's way.
Thinking they were done, she turned to leave.
He caught her arm. 'You stay with Orrie.'
She brushed his hand off. 'I'd rather go with you. If Orrie's not with you, someone has to watch your back.'
'I watched my own back for years before you came along, Mountain-girl.'
She sniffed, then a thought occurred to her. 'Did Cinna admit to being the elector's spy?'
'No. Feid admitted only that someone spies for him, someone he trusts. That's why I need you here, for now. I need you to keep your eyes open.' I need to keep you safe.
'Of course.' She glanced up to him. 'What is it?'
The words were on the tip of his tongue but he could not ask it of her. He would be denying who Florin was. Sylion take her, why did she have to be so stubborn?
'Be off. And keep out of trouble.' It was no more than he'd say to any of the lads.
She grinned. 'I'll serve under Orrie's command, but we'd better catch up with you in time to take Rolenhold!'
With that she was gone.
By mid-morning they were ready to leave. Men milled about in the stronghold courtyards, double-checking their travelling kits. Word of Leogryf's betrayal had spread, leaving a bad taste in everyone's mouths.
Byren caught Orrade's eye and led him into the shadows of the stable. It was quiet here. 'There's something I need you to do for me, Orrie.'
'Name it.'
But Byren hesitated. If he asked Orrade to watch over Florin, Orrade would know how he felt and Byren knew she loved one of his men. It might just be Orrade. In fact, it probably was, they'd spent enough time in each other's company. He didn't want his friend to hold back. Orrade enjoyed Florin's company and admired her. Let him marry Florin and settle the whispers once and for all.
It would be so much simpler if Orrade wed the mountain girl and made his wife available to his king. It wouldn't be the first time a king had come to such an arrangement with one of his loyal lords.
But Byren was not going to be that kind of king.
He cleared his throat, aware that he had taken too long to answer. 'Make it look like a concerted effort to take the fort, but don't waste lives.'
Orrade nodded, a half-smile lightening his sharp eyes. 'And?'
And nothing. If Florin wanted to be a shield-maiden, she had to face death just as his warriors did. 'It's Winterfall. I overheard him giving Florin a hard time — '
'So that's why you arranged for her to sleep in Lady Cinna's chambers.' Orrade grinned. 'Don't worry. I'll keep her close by me.'
Byren swallowed. This was not the outcome he wanted, but it would be for the best. So he nodded.
'By the way, I told Catillum you wanted him and his monks to march with me,' Orrade said.
Byren cursed. He had forgotten the monks in his preoccupation with Florin. 'I thought you'd want the mystics master as far from you as possible, Orrie.'
'And I thought you'd want to keep him as far from the renegade Affinity at the old camp as possible.'
'Good point.' He didn't want Catillum anywhere near those caves with their old, untamed Affinity. Byren grinned and squeezed Orrade's shoulders. 'What would I do without you?'
Orrade shrugged. 'Flounder on, I suppose.'
Byren laughed and thumped him. As they marched out of the stable a horn sounded.
Everyone froze.
Byren met Orrade's eyes. Were they under attack?
He bounded up the tower stairs with Orrade at his heels. Here they found Feid already holding the Ostronite farseer to his eye.
'What is it?' Byren asked.
Wordlessly, Feid passed him the tube and Byren looked through it. He spotted three ships bristling with warriors, their helmets and shields gleaming in the sun. The wind lifted the banners to reveal the rearing cockatrice. Relief flooded him.
Byren closed the farseer with a snap and shouted the news. People cheered.
They headed down to the wharf, where the first ship retracted its oars as ropes were thrown across and secured. A young man marched down the gangplank, hand on sword hilt.
'That cub's too young to be the new warlord,' Orrade muttered.
'Well, he brings three hundred warriors, whatever he is,' Byren said and went down the wharf to greet the boy-warrior who stood almost as tall as Byren, but looked no more than fifteen.
'Byren Kingsheir?' he demanded.
Byren nodded.
He dropped to one knee. 'I'm Aseel, younger brother of Warlord Hrost, of Cockatrice Spar. I've come with three hundred men to help you retake Rolencia.' He got up, dusting off his knees and added apologetically, 'Hrost has kept back the rest. He doesn't trust Leogryf Spar.'
Byren snorted. 'For good reason. Lord Leon promised to support us then rode over the Divide!'
'He betrayed you?' Aseel demanded. 'He joined Cobalt?'
'Don't worry.' Seeing himself only a few years ago, Byren slung an arm around Aseel's shoulders and turned him towards the others. 'A warrior from the spar is worth two from the valley. Come meet Orrade and Warlord Feid.'
Chapter Nineteen
Fyn studied the map. At last, they had entered the deep narrow bay that would bring them to Feid's stronghold. By midday he would see Byren and bring him the good news. He couldn't hold back a smile.
'Bad news.' Captain Nefysto walked into the cabin, with a messenger bird on his wrist, his expression grim. He crossed the cabin and placed the bird in its cage, behind the screen. 'The old elector is dead and there's been fighting in the streets of Ostron Isle. As yet there is no elector and we don't know if the new one will honour the alliance.'
Fyn came to his feet, mind racing. 'Only we know about this and, when the new elector is named, the mage will endeavour to win their support. Tell no one, Nefysto. Understood?'
'I was serving the mage when you were an abbey brat, little monk.' But there was a smile in his eyes.
Fyn had the grace to grin then remembered a comment Tyro had made. 'I gather the mage has a spy on this spar. Will Feid know about the elector's death?'
Nefysto shrugged. 'I'm not privy to the mage's machinations and I certainly don't know the identity of his spies.'
