Isolt — '
'He told you about that?' The official announcement would be made Midwinter's Day.
'No, King Rolen told me.'
'Father?'
'I spoke briefly with him before we rode out, remember. I carried a message from the Elector of Ostron Isle.'
'You're that close to the elector?'
'My bride is… was his niece.'
'Ah, I'm sorry.' Byren realised he knew nothing about his cousin.
The level of good-natured revelry from the feasting fire rose another notch as two merchant sons raced to drain their tankards to the encouragement of the men. Most of them would be too drunk to stagger to bed tonight. Byren winced. He had a suspicion Rolenhold's court would appear uncouth to his cousin after Ostron Isle.
'The elector wanted your father to know that Warlord Palatyne has become overlord of all the Merofynian spars and King Merofyn has recognised his authority.'
'He never!' Byren insisted, then digested this in silence. After the last poisoning attempt the Merofynian king had never really recovered. The warlords, sensing weakness, had tried to snatch Merofynia. His father's spies had reported that Palatyne was the most powerful of them but… 'So this Palatyne succeeded in defeating the other warlords?'
'And he has half the lords of Merofynia on his side.' Cobalt hesitated, then went on as if deciding Byren was ready to hear this. 'If your brother marries Isolt he'll have to watch Overlord Palatyne. Or maybe he'll send you to Merofynia to keep Palatyne and the rest of the lords in line.'
'But King Merofyn — '
'Is old and frail. He's a spent force. The people are fed up with his taxes and his religious oppression. Meanwhile, Palatyne swaggers around Port Mero, king in all but name.'
Byren said nothing. This did not bode well for his twin.
Cobalt slid his good arm around Byren's shoulders and turned him towards the feasting fire. 'So, Lence is lucky he has you.'
As they approached the others Garzik saw them coming and darted over to Byren, drawing two youths with him.
'Woodend and Highfield want to join your honour guard, Byren,' Garzik beamed.
Both boys — sons of merchants — nodded eagerly and dropped to their knees, offering their swords before he could say anything. He wouldn't have been human if he wasn't pleased to have won their admiration. Byren grinned and the two youths promptly placed their hands over their hearts and began to swear the oath.
'A Fealty Ceremony?' Cobalt muttered. He strode around to where Lence now stood. 'I insist mine is the honour to be first to formally join Lence Kingsheir's guard!'
Sinking gracefully to one knee, he lifted his good arm to place his injured hand on his heart. The other castle youths, young lords like Cobalt and elder sons, jostled to be next. Lence accepted their fealty with obvious satisfaction.
Younger sons and merchant sons hurried to Byren's side of the fire. With a sinking heart, he realised the castle's defenders were choosing sides in a battle he did not want to fight. But he accepted the fealty oaths with good grace, for he could do no less. The feasting continued and, while the others drank and laughed, Byren thought on what he'd learnt from Cobalt.
Much later, as they bedded down in the Council Hall, the village women presented him with their prettiest maiden. She beamed, pleased with the honour of sharing his bed. Her eyes had been painted to make them look huge and glass beads had been threaded through her waist-length hair. They tinkled as she bowed and the men — those who weren't already snoring — made appreciative noises, joking about his prowess.
Byren knew she would have been chosen because she could not conceive tonight so he need not fear creating another bastard. Many a time he and Lence had enjoyed a village's gratitude for chasing off spar warriors or Affinity beasts, but tonight he realised he could not bed this girl, not when he could still feel Elina weeping in his arms, heartbroken over Orrade's blindness.
Fool! He should have sent word that Garzik was safe with them when they returned to the castle, and that Orrade's sight had returned. He should have put Elina's mind at rest but they'd left to hunt the leogryf in such a rush…
'What's wrong, Byren? Have you forgotten how to do it?' Lence teased.
He glanced up, startled. The women of the council had left and the girl waited expectantly, a smile lighting her eyes.
No. He could not bed her, not here in the hall where the dark was their only privacy, not ever, not when it was Elina he wanted.
He lifted his hands, wondering how to do this without hurting her feelings. She blinked in dismay, the smile slipping from her face as she read his expression.
Byren caught her hand, bowing over it, using his best court manners to ease the rejection. 'I'm sorry. But my heart is already taken.'
'What about your prong?' some wit shouted.
Heat stole up Byren's face as he released the girl's hand.
Her face crumpled and she fled. Silence fell as the door slammed shut behind her.
'You've disgraced her,' Lence hissed, taking a step closer. 'What's wrong with you, Byren?'
'Enough, Lence,' Cobalt intervened. He cast Byren a curious glance, then led Lence away.
Byren hesitated. He wanted to call his twin back and explain but he couldn't. He was not formally betrothed to Elina and with the way things were between him and her father, he might never be.
So he turned away, grabbed his bed roll and retreated to the far fireplace where he lay down with his back to the others and stared at the flames. After a moment he heard Orrade and Garzik loyally join him and the others bedding down. The last lamps were doused, then the hall became quiet except for snores and sleepy mumbles.
Chapter Seven
Tension crawled across Piro's shoulders, as she wished herself invisible. Here she was, trapped between her parents and Sylion's mystics mistress whose tapping cane grew ever closer as she approached. The abbess kept pace with the old mystic so they would arrive together to formally greet her parents. Piro had tried to avoid this meeting, claiming she needed to feed her foenix, but her mother had insisted that it was time to put away her childhood things.
She halted the litany running over and over in her mind for fear it might attract the attention of the mystics mistress. Neither of the castle's Affinity warders had noticed the change in her since autumn cusp. But, although the mystics mistress was blind, she was said to be even more powerful than Halcyon's mystics master. Piro feared her many years of experience.
Think of something else.
Fyn! Yesterday Fyn arrived with the abbot and the monks but she hadn't had a chance to speak with her brother yet so he didn't know about the sudden blossoming of her Affinity with the gods.
There she was, thinking of it again.
If the mystics mistress wasn't specifically looking for it, could she sense the change in Piro from a distance? Piro didn't know.
There was so much she didn't know about having Affinity.
'And have you been doing any more paintings, Piro Kingsdaughter?' the abbess asked kindly, once the formal greetings finished. She always treated Piro as if she was seven, not almost a woman at thirteen. The abbess was plump and pink-cheeked with sharp, brilliant eyes, and looked as if she should be a successful shrewd sweets merchant, not the spiritual leader of an abbey that served the cruel, hard god of snow and ice.
