King Breaker (76 page)

At least with Piro you knew where you stood. She could certainly eat. Before Florin took sick, she used to tuck into her food like this. Where was his mountain girl? Probably with his honour guards. No melon pieces in mint sauce for her. She’d...

‘...Byren?’ Piro asked, following up with a mock punch. ‘You weren’t even listening. I said we need to hold a family council in the war-table chamber.’

He nodded. ‘I’ll let Orrie know.’

When they turned up at the war-table council, Agent Tyro was there and Piro had also brought Florin along. Byren couldn’t escape her. A moment later, Fyn walked in with Isolt.

‘Good, we’re all here.’ Piro gestured to the mage’s agent. ‘Siordun has something to tell you.’ Then before he could speak, she plunged on. ‘For the last seven years, ever since Lord Dunstany died, Siordun has been impersonating him, so that he could spy for the mage and preserve the peace between Rolencia and Merofynia.’

‘And look how well that worked out,’ Orrade muttered.

‘You knew, Orrie?’ Byren asked.

‘No.’

‘Very few knew, and those who did, protected me,’ Siordun said. ‘Fyn, Isolt and Piro—’

‘And Florin found out yesterday, when I went to warn Siordun not to come to the palace in his Dunstany disguise,’ Piro said. ‘Please don’t be angry, Byren. Siordun has been trying to preserve the peace and help you win back Rolencia.’

H
OW MANY KINGDOMS
does one man need?
Fyn thought as he stood across the table from Byren. If his brother reclaimed Rolencia, why should he have Merofynia and Isolt as well?

Fyn was not proud of himself for harbouring these thoughts. But if Florin wasn’t Byren’s lover, then why was she at their family council? What did the daughter of a tradepost keeper know of strategy and tactics?

Piro’s voice pierced Fyn’s distraction.

‘...I don’t see how anyone could believe Byren would kill me, rather than see me married to Cobalt.’

‘That’s because you would never do such a thing,’ Orrade said. ‘But there are people who would, so they have no trouble believing it of others.’

‘Cobalt would.’ Florin shuddered. ‘He smiled as he killed Varuska’s sister just so he could bury her in Piro’s place.’

‘That’s it!’ Piro looked around the table. ‘He’s buried me twice. If I go back to Rolencia and confront Cobalt—’

‘No, Piro,’ Fyn protested, and he wasn’t the only one.

‘Hear me out. On midsummer’s day, Goddess Halcyon hands over the kingdom to Sylion, god of winter.’

‘We have something similar here,’ Isolt said. ‘It’s a grand ceremony, everyone attends.’

Piro nodded. ‘I’ll go back to Ostron Isle and collect Varuska to show how Cobalt fooled everyone. We’ll confront him on midsummer’s day, in front of all the nobles and merchants.’

‘How would you get into the ceremony?’ Orrade asked.

‘The abbess of Sylion Abbey will help us. She hates Cobalt.’

Fyn didn’t like it. ‘This means sending Piro and the other poor girl into danger.’

‘I could go with Piro,’ Florin offered. ‘Tell how I saw Cobalt—’

‘No.’ Byren cut her off. ‘There’s no need for you to go. Piro and Varuska will be enough.’

Fyn glanced to Byren. Was he trying to keep Florin safe?

‘Right,’ Piro said. ‘Siordun can send a message to his agent in Rolencia, so she can get word to the abbess. Maybe after we unmask Cobalt, Byren won’t need to lead his army into battle.’

‘Eh, you’re such a dreamer, Piro,’ Byren said fondly. ‘Men will fight to hold onto power whether they are in the right or not. And even if every Rolencian turned their back on Cobalt, the five Merofynian captains Cobalt ennobled can never return to their homeland. No, there’ll be fighting.’ He rubbed his jaw. ‘I need to arm my men, find ships to transport them and be in position by midsummer’s day.’

‘You heard Florin.’ Frustration drove Fyn to speak up. ‘Cobalt thought nothing of murdering a girl to further his plans. Even with the abbess’s support, we can’t send Piro into danger.’

‘Fyn’s right,’ Isolt said. ‘There must be another way.’

‘Piro is safest in plain sight,’ Siordun said. ‘Cobalt can’t lay a finger on her if everyone knows she lives. And she won’t be going into danger alone. I’ll go with her. Byren, you should take Piro’s foenix with you to validate your rule.’

‘Then it’s settled.’ Piro sounded satisfied. ‘We sail with the evening tide.’

‘We’ll leave the
Wyvern’s Whelp
for Byren, so the mage can contact him,’ Siordun said.

The council ended with Fyn still not sure if Byren was flaunting his lover under his betrothed’s roof. One part of him refused to believe it. Another part feared Murheg was right.

Seeing Piro with Florin reminded him that his sister had spent half the summer on Dunstany’s estate with the mountain girl. She would know if Florin was Orrade’s lover. As everyone left, Fyn caught Piro’s eye.

After they’d all gone she turned to him. ‘What is it, Fyn?’

He hesitated, afraid he was right and Byren was no longer the man he used to be.

‘I’ll be all right. I’ve learnt to be careful.’ Piro assured him. ‘I’m no longer the silly girl who hid on Ruin Isle to help her brother find Halcyon’s Fate.’

‘That silly girl was very brave.’ Fyn reached out and pulled her close for a hug, then released her. ‘Far too brave. I want you to take Florin. She can wear a nun’s...’

But Piro was already shaking her head.

‘Why not? Will Orrade refuse to be parted from her?’

Piro laughed. ‘They’re not lovers.’

So the abbot had been right. Fury flashed through Fyn. How could Byren insult Isolt like this?

‘Fyn?’

Somehow, he summoned a smile. ‘Promise me you won’t do anything brave.’

She laughed and hugged him.

Chapter Sixty-Two

F
LORIN MISSED
P
IRO.
It was five days since she’d set sail, five days of watching Byren escort Isolt to events, dance with her and sit with her at the feasting table.

To escape this, Florin had volunteered to help Orrade organise fitting out Byren’s army. Chandler and the men had reached the far shore of the Grand Canal, and the army was fast becoming a nuisance as the men drank and ate their way through every inn and tavern on the east bank.

When Captain Aeran delivered news of another brawl in the streets, Orrade handed over a bag of coins. ‘Recompense shop-keepers and tell Chandler to drill the men until they are so tired they’ll have no energy to brawl at night.’

After the captain of the city-watch walked out, Orrade turned to Florin. ‘Just as well we’re sailing this afternoon.’

She couldn’t have agreed more. But before they sailed, she needed to see the Power-worker. He should have the right herb by now. Bitter-tears... even the name held foreboding.

It made Florin uneasy, and the feeling had been growing ever since she’d decided on this course of action.

Orrade bent over the papers on his desk.

‘I’m not feeling well.’ Florin felt terrible. ‘Can I go?’

Orrade put his nib aside. ‘You’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you, Mountain Girl?’

‘Of course,’ she lied.

The look he gave her was far too perceptive, but he waved her off. ‘Go on. I guess you might as well rest now, since you’ll be throwing up the whole time we’re at sea.’

Relieved, she thanked him and slipped away.

Finding enough gold to pay the Power-worker had seemed a huge hurdle but, as it turned out, Piro had forgotten to pack the amfina statuette.

The walk down to the Power-worker’s dingy establishment was over far too quickly. Florin ducked into the lane and went up the three flights of stairs. She found the Power-worker grinding something with a mortar and pestle. Today the amfina slept in a basket on the counter next to him, and a boy of eleven stood at the Power-worker’s elbow, watching him work.

Florin blinked as her eyes adjusted to the gloom. ‘I’m here about—’

‘I know why you’re here,’ he said, and he nudged the boy. ‘Go fetch the amfina’s food.’

The boy darted through the curtained doorway behind the counter. The Power-worker tipped some fine powder onto the scales and checked the weight before pouring the powder onto a piece of paper, folding it over to form a packet.

‘That’s the herb for my mistress?’ Florin asked.

‘It is. You have the gold?’

Florin’s hand went to her pocket.

The curtain parted, but the lad did not return. Instead two men-at-arms stepped into the room.

Florin took a step back. One part of her wanted to flee, but she needed the herb. The men-at-arms came around the counter. As she backed up towards the door, two Merofynian lords entered. One was grey-haired and looked like someone’s kindly uncle, the other was Neiron.

She turned to run.

‘Stop her!’ Neiron barked.

The men-at-arms caught her and pinned her arms behind her back.

‘This is her?’ The softly spoken, grey-haired lord looked Florin up and down.

Neiron’s top lip lifted. ‘She’s not the queen’s servant.’

‘I still want my gold,’ the Power-worker insisted.

The grey-haired lord nodded to his men. One of them drew Florin’s arm further up her back until it felt like her shoulder would pop out of its socket. ‘Who are you buying bitter-tears for?’

Florin shook her head. The man jerked on her arm, making her gasp.

The kindly-looking lord sighed. ‘You’re going to tell me, lass, so why not save yourself the pain?’

She turned her face away, only to see Neiron’s grin.

The grey-haired lord gestured to him. ‘Search her.’

Neiron’s hands were far too free. He didn’t need to part her shirt to reveal her breast band, didn’t need to loosen it and thrust his hands inside to see if she’d hidden anything, not when he’d already taken the golden ornament.

‘Just this.’ He tossed the amfina statue over.

The grey-haired lord inspected it. ‘An expensive little trinket. Not the kind of thing a Rolencian peasant would own. Could you be buying bitter-tears for the queen, after all?’ He watched her closely. ‘Has she been welcoming the younger brother into her bed, while betrothed to the elder?’

‘The little bitch,’ Neiron muttered.

As much as she resented the queen, Florin could not let her take the blame.

‘It’s for me,’ she blurted.

‘Lies!’ Neiron snorted.

She glared at him, torn between outrage and shame.

‘How disappointing.’ The grey-haired lord stepped back. ‘It seems she’s telling the truth.’ He gestured to the men-at-arms, who let her go.

Neiron turned on his companion. ‘You believe her, Yorale?’

‘The girl couldn’t lie to save herself.’ He dropped a small bag of coins on the counter.

‘Why are you paying the Power-worker?’ Neiron asked. ‘His information was useless.’

‘This time.’

Florin massaged her shoulder, eyeing Lord Yorale, who still had her ornament.

He noticed the direction of her gaze and tossed the statuette to the Power-worker. ‘Give her the bitter-tears.’

‘Why?’ Neiron demanded. ‘If you ask me, any woman who’s stupid enough to open her legs deserves what she gets.’

Yorale sighed. ‘This sorry excuse for a woman serves on Byren’s honour guard. She could be useful, Neiron.’

The Power-worker folded the instructions around the powder packet and gave it to Yorale.

He held it in front of Florin. ‘With what I know, I could ruin you, girl. No more honoured place in the king’s guard. You’d end up on the street, sucking cock for your supper. But I am not so cruel.’ Yorale tucked the herb packet and instructions into Florin’s breast band. ‘There. Take your bitter-tears and remember what you owe me. Be very sure that one day I will call on this debt. Do you understand?’

She nodded, hating him with all her heart.

Neiron smirked. ‘No wonder the baby’s father deserted her. He probably woke up, got a good look at her sour puss in the morning light, and cursed himself for a drunken sot.’

The men-at-arms sniggered.

Florin’s face burned as they left via the Power-worker’s back room.

The baby amfina yawned, stretched then settled itself more comfortably in the basket. The Power-worker sent Florin a contemptuous look.

She hated them all.

Tears of fury stung her eyes as she went down the stairs and picked her way along the alley. Blind with anger, she wasn’t prepared when someone grabbed her and swung her up against the wall.

Orrade pressed his forearm to her throat. ‘Why, Florin? Why betray us to Neiron?’

‘I didn’t—’

‘Don’t deny it. I heard his voice. How could you...’

It was so absurd that she laughed, even as tears poured down her cheeks.

He released her. ‘If you didn’t betray us, why—’

She shook her head then tried to free herself. Her shirt fell open.

‘What’s this?’ He plucked the herb packet from her breast band.

She tried to retrieve it, but he was too fast. He took in the instructions in a heartbeat.

‘You’re with child? Whose child?’

She just looked at him.

‘But Byren said he didn’t—’

‘Apparently, he did enough.’

Orrade shook his head.

She held out her hand.

Orrade backed up a step. ‘You’d kill Byren’s child?’

‘What am I supposed to do? I can’t provide for my little brother, let alone a baby.’

‘You’re not using this.’ He went to tear open the packet.

She lunged, fighting him for it. They tripped and fell, rolling on the dirty cobblestones. Over and over they went. He was trying not to hurt her. She didn’t want to use blinding or crippling blows, so she ended up under him, weeping in frustration, as he sprinkled the powdered herb on the breeze.

‘What right do you have to stop me?’

‘I’m saving your life. Or didn’t the Power-worker tell you this could kill you?’

She flushed. ‘Then why do women use it?’

‘They’re desperate and you’re not. If the worst happens, I’ll marry you.’ He came to his feet and held out his hand.

She ignored it, just as she’d ignored his absurd, insulting claim. Furious, she climbed to her feet. ‘You can’t tell Byren. Promise me, Orrie.’