Fyn took a mouthful then coughed. When he caught his breath he looked up at Piro wonderingly. 'We were in the caverns under the abbey. You came to me with a light.'
'And you escaped. You beat the trap the Power-worker placed on your Affinity.'
Fyn shook his head, tears filling his eyes. 'Byren. Have you heard — '
'Fyn?' Isolt opened the door. 'You're awake?'
'You were listening at the door,' Piro accused.
'Of course.' Isolt hurried across the chamber. She studied Fyn critically. 'You're too pale and thin. You need building up. I've mixed a tonic for you. Ovido is bringing it.'
Piro fought down a wave of resentment. Fyn was her brother and she was just as good a healer as Isolt.
'Tyro?' Fyn pulled himself onto one elbow, fixing on the mage's supposed agent. 'Has there been word of my brother?'
'Nothing. The mage has no spies among Cobalt's men and the spy from Feidton knows nothing. Byren was meant to meet up with the others there.'
Fyn sank back to the pillow. 'I failed him.'
'Nonsense,' Isolt said briskly. 'From what I heard you tried to save the whole camp.' She broke off as Ovido backed into the chamber with a tray of medicines and jars. 'Good boy. Put it here next to the bed.' Isolt turned back to Fyn. 'Now listen to me. You must get better. Piro and I need you.'
An odd smile tugged at Fyn's lips.
'Lift his head,' Isolt ordered and, while Tyro held him, she tipped a spoonful of broth into his mouth. Fyn swallowed. 'As soon as you finish this, I have something to make you sleep. You are safe with us now.'
When he had finished it was clear just drinking the soup and the tisane had exhausted Fyn. He sank back onto the cushions and fell asleep even as they watched.
'I'll stay with him,' Piro said.
'I'll stay too.' Isolt pulled the chair nearer to the bed and sat down, her face close to Fyn's. She watched him sleep with total concentration.
Tyro caught Piro's eye and nodded towards the door. They left quietly.
'Get some sleep while you can. It will be a long night,' he told Piro, once they were out in the hall. 'With Elector Cera soon to be crowned there is peace in Ostron Isle, but the news of Byren's defeat may make her wonder about the alliance. I have much to do.'
Piro nodded. But when Tyro left her, she opened the door and leant against the door jamb, watching Isolt with Fyn. The Merofynian kingsdaughter held Fyn's hand in both of hers.
Noticing Piro, Isolt sent her a fierce smile. 'Don't worry. We'll soon have him strong again!'
She loves him, Piro thought. I wonder if Fyn knows? How could he, when Isolt does not even realise it?
And, understanding this, Piro was able to leave her brother in Isolt's care.
Despite his chains, they escorted Byren out of his cabin at sword point, then walked him down the gangplank onto the wharf at Port Mero. The chain between his ankles was so short he could only shuffle. By the light of many torches he saw Duke Palatyne on his horse, looking grand in full battle armour, wearing the manticore chitin chestplate that Byren had given his father. A skinny, silver-haired Utland Power-worker hovered at Palatyne's side.
'Kneel before the duke!' A soldier kicked Byren in the back of the knees so that he fell to the wharf.
Palatyne walked his horse closer. Sliding a leg over the saddle, he jumped to the ground and grabbed a handful of Byren's hair, hauling his head up. 'Let's see what King Rolen's traitor looks like. This is the son who ran off, leaving his brother and father to fight his battles, leaving his mother and sister to die. Then he tried to claim the kingdom for himself. Is this the sort of man we want as the king of Rolencia?'
People jeered.
'Who killed King Rolen under a flag of truce?' Byren yelled. 'Who killed Queen Myrella in her own hall? Not I. It — '
Palatyne backhanded him with such force he saw stars. Men hauled him away, unlocked the chains at his wrists and ankles, picked him up and threw him into a cage on a cart. Head ringing, Byren stared out through the bars at angry faces.
Fyn woke to find himself in a strange bed. Sunlight streamed through the window panes, making rainbow patterns. For one perfect moment he was glad just to be alive and free of fear, before it all came back to him.
Master Catillum was dead, his body possessed and his Affinity used to betray Byren. If his brother still lived, he would have made it back to Feidton by now, so he must be dead. How could everything go so wrong?
Fyn turned his head away from the window. On the other side of his bed Isolt curled up, asleep in a chair. The shawl had slipped from her shoulders, silk tassels hanging on the floor.
With Byren and Lence dead, Isolt was officially betrothed to Fyn. His mouth went dry with longing and his heart hammered against his ribs.
Terribly thirsty, he tried to lift the mug by his bed, but it slipped through his clumsy fingers and fell to the floor, rolling on the carpet.
Isolt woke with a start, springing from the chair. 'Oh, you're awake!' She picked up the mug. 'Now you'll need some more broth and — '
'Broth? I'm not a toothless old man.'
She laughed. 'Certainly not. You just bit my head off!'
He wanted her for his own. Heat flooded Fyn as realisation swept him. He had wanted her all along but refused to admit it, because she'd belonged to Byren.
Byren… How could he feel glad his brother was dead? His eyes burned with unshed tears and he turned his face away from Isolt.
'What's wrong, Fyn?'
Now was not the time to tell her that he loved her, not when she had been feeding him like a baby. Besides, what if she laughed at him? He could not bear it.
The door swung open. Piro raced into the chamber, face glowing with happiness. 'Good news, Byren lives! He was sent to Palatyne to be executed. Lord Dunstany's spies saw him arrive.'
Fyn closed his eyes, overwhelmed.
For a moment he could not bear to think.
Isolt belonged to Byren. She would never be his.
Thank the goddess he had not revealed his true feelings. A morass of emotion swelled in his chest.
His duty was clear. He must rescue his brother.
When he tried to sit up, his elbows trembled with the effort. Frustration raged through Fyn. How could he save Byren when he was so weak? 'When is Byren to be executed?'
'Palatyne has him in a cage. He accused Byren of treason against his own family. It's very clever the way he worded it. I think Cobalt had a hand in that,' Piro admitted. 'The traditional means of execution is death by starvation, but Lord Dunstany's servants will slip him food and water if they can.'
'I must get up.' Fyn tried to swing his legs to the floor, groaning as his head swam.
Isolt held him down without trouble. 'You've been all but dead for days. You need time to recover.'
He brushed her hands off him. 'I don't have time. Why doesn't the mage send Lord Dunstany's people to free Byren, Piro?'
She looked away. 'I don't know the mage's plans. Maybe he will.'
'I must get up,' Fyn muttered.
'And I say you must stay in bed.' Isolt glared at him.
She looked so adorable when she made that fierce expression, Fyn had to turn away.
He came face to face with a wyvern. It stood on its hind legs, with a paw on the high bed. Fyn's heart missed a beat. 'Freezing Sylion. Where did that Affinity beast come from?'
'Hush, you'll hurt Loyalty's feelings,' Isolt said. 'She was the last elector's pet and now she's mine. Speaking of which, they will crown the new elector tonight. Will you be well enough to come? You look flushed. Are you running a fever?'
She felt his forehead. Fyn knew it was the touch of a healer for her patient, but he ached for more. He sank into the pillow, heart-sore and weary beyond belief.
