King Breaker (75 page)

‘Give me six days.’

She headed down the stairs, wishing she had dressed as a peasant; but then, he would probably have turned her out.

As Florin led her horse up the street she heard Piro’s voice and spotted the kingsdaughter jumping down from her mount to stop a tall young man. He smiled, then his face fell as Piro spoke. They both darted into a tavern, leaving Piro’s horse with the yard boy.

Intrigued, Florin followed and was just in time to see them slip into a private chamber.

P
IRO SHUT THE
door and turned to Siordun. ‘I’m sorry. I know you were close to Old Gwalt.’

He went to the empty fireplace, where he leant both hands on the mantelpiece and rested his forehead on them.

‘Young Gwalt is going to hide the pica birds,’ Piro told him. ‘He’ll cover for you at Dunstany House. Have you eaten?’

‘What? No, I...’

She had never seen him like this. ‘We should go back to the palace and have dinner. Byren’s there. He and Fyn settled the spar uprising. Byren has an army of freed Rolencians. He wants to set sail for home, to defeat Cobalt. We need—’

‘I can’t go to the palace, Piro.’ He turned to her, dark eyes intense. ‘Lord Dunstany could sit at the table with Queen Isolt and her betrothed, and offer advice. But Byren only knows me as Agent Tyro. And the Merofynian nobles regard Tyro with suspicion, since the mage’s allegiance is to Ostron Isle.’

Now that Duncaer had inherited Dunistir Estate, Piro realised, Siordun had been stripped of his role in the Merofynian court. ‘But if we explained to Byren—’

‘He’d feel like he’d been duped. He’d be angry.’

‘We should tell him. If we don’t and he finds out, he’ll be even angrier.’

Siordun rubbed his face. He looked gaunt and exhausted.

‘What happened in Ostron Isle? Why did you stay away so long?’ She bit her tongue. She’d almost admitted she’d been worried about him.

‘It was complicated. I went to negotiate with Lady Death, but ended up stopping an uprising. She tried to use her coraxes to unseat the House Cerastus elector and win the position for her brother. But...’ Siordun gave a grim smile. ‘She no longer rules House Nictocorax and the coraxes won’t be a force to be reckoned with for a long time to come.’

Piro shivered. She didn’t really know him at all. ‘And Nefysto and Kaspian, are they all right?’

‘Yes. But the great houses have paid for her ambition.’ He smiled. ‘When I arrived, Agent Salvatrix was waiting on Mage Isle. She’d refused to leave until she saw Tsulamyth about Varuska.’

‘Who?’

‘The girl Cobalt was going to marry in your place.’

Piro stiffened.

‘Don’t judge her. Cobalt did not give the poor girl a choice. According to my agent, he’s cunning and ambitious. In less than half a year he has won over the merchants, installed new nobles, given titles and lands to five Merofynian captains and their men, and blackened Byren’s name to such an extent that if Byren were to walk into Rolencia today...’ Siordun shook his head. ‘There are many who would turn him over to Cobalt for the reward and think good riddance.’

‘But that’s...’ She been about to say
not fair
.

‘In the middle of all this, a daring Utland captain sailed into the Ring Sea and tried to make off with a fully loaded merchant ship.’

‘What? I thought the Ostronites had a chain they could raise that blocked the entrance to the Ring Sea. How—’

‘He had two ships. His Utland vessel waited for him, while he used the same ploy he’d used in Port Mero. He sailed his stolen Merofynian merchant ship into the Ring Sea and we were all so busy fighting amongst ourselves, he nearly got away with it. When we realised what was going on, we reclaimed the stolen vessel and a pack of sea-hounds hunted down his Utland ship. Burned it to the waterline with all on board.’

‘The Utlanders are getting daring.’

‘Because we fight amongst ourselves. It makes us weak.’

That reminded Piro. ‘How can we clear Byren’s name and reveal Cobalt for the liar he is?’ She frowned as Siordun crept towards the door. ‘What...’

He signalled for silence, swung the door open, hauled an eaves-dropper inside and threw him up against the wall.

‘Florin?’ Piro sprang to her feet.

‘You’re Florin?’ Siordun stepped back. ‘Why were you listening at the door?’

The mountain girl flushed and straightened her clothes. ‘I heard Byren’s name.’

‘What else did you hear?’

Florin glanced over to Piro. ‘If the old man who just died was not Lord Dunstany, who is the real Dunstany?’

Siordun dropped into a chair by the table. ‘The real Dunstany died seven years ago. I masqueraded as him on behalf of the mage. Old Gwalt was covering for me.’

Florin looked stunned. Piro tried to remember if they’d said anything that might reveal Siordun had also played the mage.

Siordun turned to Piro. ‘Now that Duncaer has inherited the title, Isolt will be without Lord Dunstany’s support. I have no excuse to advise her.’

‘They need more queen’s guards,’ Florin said. ‘No one looks at the honour guards, but we go everywhere and hear everything. You could advise her—’

‘Can you see me swinging a sword?’ Siordun asked. He looked like the scholar he was.

Piro grinned. ‘The less imposing you are, the less you’ll be noticed.’

That made him smile, but he shook his head. ‘Besides, my Affinity is too strong. It has to be part of my disguise.’

‘In that case, we need a war-table council,’ Piro said. ‘And you need to tell Byren and Orrade the truth about Dunstany.’

F
YN TOLD HIMSELF
it was only right that Byren should lead Isolt out for the first dance at their first official celebration after defeating the spar invasion.

Between the merchant margraves and their wives, the lords and their ladies, and the servants and musicians, the palace ballroom was packed. Everyone watched as Byren took Isolt’s hand and the musicians struck up a Merofynian dance. It was more sedate than the lively dances of King Rolen’s court. Just as well their mother had taught them courtly Merofynian manners.

Byren’s hands closed on Isolt’s small waist and he lifted her high in the air. Her gown flared out, revealing her silk stockinged calves and the back of her knees.

Fyn stiffened. He’d seen more bare skin when Isolt was frolicking in the grotto with Loyalty, but that wasn’t the point.

Finally the dance ended and other couples filed out onto the dance floor to form two long lines. Piro appeared at Fyn’s elbow and tugged on his arm. ‘Come dance with me.’

He couldn’t. He was watching to see if Byren would take Isolt back to her seat, and he did.

‘Fyn?’ Piro pressed.

He left his spot by the wall. ‘I’m not dancing.’ No, he wanted to sit with Isolt. That would be enough.

‘Then I’ll ask Orrie.’

In the rush of returning to court, he hadn’t had a chance to tell Orrade that his younger brother still lived. But there was the question of Garzik’s loyalty, and he did not want Orrade to be ashamed of his brother. Perhaps it was best not to mention Garzik.

Piro darted over to Orrade, who was leaning against a column, chatting to Florin. The mountain girl made no concession to her gender. She wore the same breeches, fine vest and fine calf length coat as Byren, who paused to chat to them. Orrade laughed and Florin smiled stiffly.

When Piro reached them, Orrade turned her down, so she cajoled Byren into partnering her for a dance.

This left Isolt without a partner.

But Neiron reached Isolt before Fyn did and asked her to dance. She glanced around and Fyn tried to catch her eye, but the abbot came between them.

Looking very pleased with himself, Neiron led Isolt out onto the dance floor. Again, Fyn felt the urge to warn Byren, but his brother had been so dismissive of Neiron. Fyn’s cheeks burned with the memory.

He leant against the wall and folded his arms.

‘I haven’t seen a grand ball like this since Isolt’s father first came to power,’ Murheg said. His hair had been washed and perfumed and lay loose on his shoulders, threaded with onyxes. Yet his appearance was restrained compared with most of the men.

Fyn watched Isolt. The dancers took their positions, moving to the music like a flock of birds wheeling on high.

‘I know he’s your brother,’ Murheg said softly, ‘but it’s disgusting the way Byren flaunts his lover in front of the queen.’

Fyn had no idea what the abbot was talking about. ‘What lover?’

‘The mountain girl.’ Murheg gestured to Orrade and Florin.

‘Florin is Orrade’s lover.’

‘I heard he was a lover of men.’

Fyn laughed. ‘There’s nothing to that rumour. If you could have heard my brothers and Orrie boasting about the girls they’ve bedded… Admittedly that was back when they were sixteen, but I also travelled with Byren’s army and it was quite clear that Florin was Orrade’s lover.’

Murheg said nothing. The dancers moved in intricate patterns, weaving in and out, taking new partners. Fyn grinned grimly. He liked this dance. Neiron didn’t get to put his hands on Isolt’s waist. In fact, he hardly got to speak with her as they passed each other yet again and took a new partner. Now it was Yorale’s heir, Yoromer, who partnered her.

Murheg leant closer to Fyn. ‘It occurs to me that the safest way to hide your lover is in plain sight. After all, if everyone thinks she is your best friend’s—’

‘Byren’s not like that.’ Fyn spoke with conviction.

‘Perhaps he was not like that once, but power changes people.’

As much as Fyn hated to admit this, it was true.

For the rest of the evening, he watched the three of them. Orrade and Florin were very comfortable with each other. She made him laugh, something that was rare for Orrie. By contrast, Byren and Florin hardly spoke, and when they did, they were distantly polite. In the past they’d been close enough to tease each other. Either they’d had a terrible fight, or they were lovers and were trying to disguise the fact.

Then it occurred to Fyn that Florin was attending the ball as one of Byren’s honour guard. Like Chandler, she was probably armed and on watch for threat. This explained her distance from Byren, and her ease with Orrade, who had spoken to all the honour guards.

By the time the ball was over, Fyn had a pounding headache and did not know what to think. He’d barely made it back to his room when there was a knock at the door. Expecting it to be Camoric, he told them to enter.

Piro poked her head around the door, catching him in nothing but his breeches.

He reached for a shirt. ‘Piro...’

‘I’m your sister.’ She rolled her eyes, then beckoned. ‘Come with me. I have to show you something.’

‘Surely it can wait?’ But he reached for his shirt.

Out in the hall, she led him to one of the palace’s towers, built nearly six hundred years ago. It was only used for storage now, and several dust-laden chests were piled up against the wall on the ground floor beside the stairs.

‘Race you up!’ Piro took off as if they were children.

He could not resist. They reached the top of the tower laughing.

Siordun swung the door for them.

Right away, Fyn saw the repercussions of Lord Dunstany’s death. ‘Are you going to take on a new Merofynian identity?’

‘Probably, but not until I find the right one.’ Siordun stepped aside, then, to reveal Gwalt.

Fyn greeted the steward warmly. ‘Of course, Duncaer took over Dunstany’s townhouse. Are the pica birds—’

‘Safe? Yes.’ Gwalt gestured to an adjacent chamber. ‘Like me, they have a new home.’

‘Now you don’t have to ride to Dunstany’s townhouse to send messages to the mage,’ Piro told Fyn, very pleased with herself. ‘The house-keep from Dunistir Estate is also coming to work in the palace. She’ll report to Gwalt and he’ll keep you informed.’

Fyn turned to Siordun. ‘What about you? We need you more than ever now that Dunstany can’t sit on the lord’s council and advise the queen.’

‘That’s why I have to come up with an identity that lets me stay close to the queen, yet spend extended periods away from her. It won’t be easy.’

‘We’ll hold a war-table council tomorrow, just the family,’ Piro said. ‘We need to tell Byren and Orrade the truth about Siordun and Dunstany.’

‘Good. I don’t like keeping things from Byren,’ Fyn said. But if Murheg was right, Byren was hiding his lover in plain sight. The insult to Isolt made Fyn burn.

A
S
B
YREN JOINED
his betrothed and Fyn on the terrace for breakfast, he tried to think of something interesting to say to the queen. He’d left his honour guards and Orrade partaking of a noisy breakfast of ale, cold meat and cheese in the guard hall. One look at the royal table told Byren he would be sending to the kitchen for something more substantial by mid-morning. Who could live on delicate pastries, slivers of fruit and whipped cream?

Queen Isolt, apparently. He watched as she dipped a hot-house strawberry in cream and nibbled on it.

‘I never really had a chance to meet your wyvern,’ Byren said. ‘What was her name?’

‘Loyalty.’

‘Good name.’

Isolt nodded and plucked the stem from another strawberry.

‘I hear she lives with Piro’s foenix in the palace grounds.’

Isolt nodded again. She was paying more attention to the strawberry than him. Was she going to eat it or not?

‘Both Affinity beasts sleep in the grotto built by the Mad Boy King,’ Fyn supplied.

‘The Mad Boy King from mother’s stories?’ Byren asked, chuckling. ‘I always thought she was making him up.’

‘Not a bit. In fact...’ Fyn began, then seemed to think better of what he’d been going to say.

Byren turned to the queen. ‘Will you be visiting your pet today? We could—’

‘She’s not my pet,’ Isolt said primly. ‘She’s an intelligent creature with free will.’ And she left the strawberry on her plate as she came to her feet. ‘Please excuse me, I have work to do.’

Byren wondered how he had offended her.

‘There you are, Byren,’ Piro said, dropping into her seat with more enthusiasm than grace. She took several pastries and even more fruit, piling everything high on her plate. ‘I wanted to see you...’