King Breaker (77 page)

He shook his head. ‘I’d be lying if I made that promise.’

She glared at him.

With a shrug, he offered his arm.

‘I’m pregnant, not an invalid.’

He laughed. ‘Byren’s a fool. Come on, before the
Wyvern’s Whelp
casts off without us.’

F
YN WAS GLAD
to see the back of Byren and Merofynia was glad to see the back of Byren’s army. If Isolt was glad to see the back of Byren she did not admit it.

Together they waved from the docks as the fleet of borrowed merchant ships sailed off across Mero Bay. Then the pair of them climbed into the royal carriage to go back to the palace. Isolt did not speak. She seemed small and sad. Fyn longed to make her smile.

When they reached the stables, he helped her step down from the carriage. ‘You’re right. I should learn to ride Loyalty.’

This surprised a laugh from her, as he’d hoped it would. She looked up, eyes bright. ‘You’d let me teach you.’

He hadn’t realised how important it was to her. ‘Of course.’

Feeling light of heart, he followed her through the palace courtyards. By the time they reached the crescent of apartments, they were running, and by the time they reached the terrace they were laughing.

Loyalty came flying over the hedge to land on the lawn beside the fountain. Isolt let go of Fyn’s hand and ran down to greet her.

‘My poor girl,’ Isolt said, reaching up to rub the wyvern’s neck. ‘You’ll miss Resolute.’ Isolt turned to Fyn. ‘I think the terrace is the best place to start your lessons.’

He gulped.

‘You just hunch down low and hold on,’ Isolt told him, leading the wyvern up the steps and turning her to face the lawn. ‘The trick is to go with Loyalty’s movements. Don’t fight her.’

‘I thought the trick was not to fall off.’

With a laugh, Isolt indicated he was to climb on. As Fyn stepped up to Loyalty, he realised her shoulders were above his head. Isolt spoke soothingly to the Affinity beast while Fyn climbed onto the wyvern’s back and wrapped his arms around her neck.

He felt Loyalty’s muscles bunch under him, before she leapt upwards with such force he almost lost his grip. Those great, shimmering wings spread out to each side of him and he was flying.

Well, gliding, as Loyalty sailed down from the terrace. Her feet touched down on the lawn and she took several steps before coming to a stop.

A moment later, Isolt caught up with them. ‘You did it. And you didn’t even fall on landing!’

Because his hands were locked in place. It took a conscious effort to release his grip.

‘Doesn’t it feel wonderful?’ Isolt asked.

And Fyn realised she loved flying.

‘There’s a headland where I’ve been practising over the water. That way, if you fall off, you land in the sea. Not that I’ve fallen,’ Isolt told him proudly. ‘Come on.’

It was dim and cool under the trees. Birds called above them, crickets chirruped and Fyn immediately felt as if they were in their own little world. He never wanted to go back to the real world. ‘Did you bring Byren here?’

‘Of course not,’ Isolt said. ‘Here we are. Loyalty loves flying from up here. She’s better at taking off from a high place.’ Isolt steadied the wyvern. ‘Up you get, Fyn.’

He glanced down. From the top of the cliff, it was a two-storey drop to the sunlit sparkling sea. He’d never had a problem with heights, but when he climbed, he was in control. While riding the flying wyvern, his life was in the beast’s...

‘Fyn?’

Despite his churning stomach, he climbed onto the wyvern’s back. He did it because he couldn’t refuse Isolt.

And because she had not shared this with Byren.

B
YREN WAS GLAD
to be on his way. They’d made the passage through Mulcibar’s Gate on the evening tide, and now they sailed southwest to avoid the dangerous rocks and scattered islands of the spars. He looked behind him at the six merchant ships, packed to the gunnels with men returning home to Rolencia.

‘You did a good thing, freeing our people,’ Orrade said, joining him.

Byren nodded. ‘The merchants weren’t too happy about loaning me their ships.’

‘They’ll make a profit on the return voyage.’ Orrade turned to face him. ‘Now that you’re sailing home with a loyal army, you no longer need Merofynia’s support. Frankly, I don’t see why you’d want it, not with that pack of nobles looking down their noses at you.’

Byren shrugged. ‘I can deal with them. What are you leading up to?’

‘Florin.’

Byren’s gut clenched, but he summoned a grin. ‘When I checked on her, she was already throwing up. She’ll never make a sailor.’

‘That’s not what I’m talking about.’

‘I know. I gave my word, Orrie.’

‘Queen Isolt’s a good woman, but she wouldn’t make you happy. Do you want to wake up next to her for the rest of your life?’

‘I can’t break my word.’

‘Some things are more important.’

‘What’s more important than honour?’

‘You should talk to Florin.’

‘In the palace, you advised me to avoid her.’

‘I did. But you need to talk to her now.’ Orrade’s thin face held an intensity Byren could not interpret.

A mixture of concern and curiosity drove Byren to Florin’s cabin, where he found her huddled on the bunk, pale and miserable.

She glared. ‘Why can’t you leave me to die in peace?’

‘No one ever died of sea-sickness,’ he said, then wondered if that was true.

‘More’s the pity.’

Byren grinned. He’d missed her. ‘Come out on deck. You’ll feel better.’

She swung her legs off the bunk and staggered across the cabin.

He took her arm, helping her up to the high reardeck. They stood at the rail, overlooking the middeck. Lanterns illuminated the ship’s sails, and behind them, the glowing sails of the merchant ships dotted the sea.

Byren had no idea what to say, so he took a stab in the dark. ‘Orrie told me.’

‘What?’ She was horrified. No, she was mortified, colour raced up her cheeks. ‘I specifically asked him not to.’

‘He was worried about you.’

‘Well, you don’t need to worry.’ Florin faced Byren, eyes glittering with angry tears. ‘I won’t make trouble. I’ll go away and you’ll never see me or the child.’

A roaring filled Byren’s head.

‘Orrie didn’t tell you?’ Florin was outraged. She thumped Byren hard enough to hurt. ‘How could you trick me like that?’

He caught her wrist before she could hit him again. ‘You can’t be pregnant. I didn’t...’ He shuddered, recalling how close he’d come to losing control.

Florin’s eyes narrowed. ‘Forget I ever told you. Go marry your little queen and be happy playing Duelling Kingdoms. That’s not the life for me.’

She walked off, proud and furious. Unfortunately, she had to run to the side to throw up.

Byren shook his head.

Even though he knew she would push him away, he wanted to help her. He waited, but she did not look back as she wiped her mouth and went to her cabin.

He gripped the rail. Florin pregnant. Sylion’s Luck. How could she fall pregnant so easily?

‘Well?’ Orrade prodded.

‘She told you rather than me?’ Byren was furious.

‘I caught her buying bitter-tears to get rid of the baby. I stopped her.’

‘You stopped her?’

‘It could have killed her. It would have killed your child.’ Orrade confronted him. ‘If you value our friendship, be careful what you say next.’

‘Orrie, you know I can’t marry her. I’ve given my word. What kind of king would I be if I turned my back on my betrothed?’

‘What kind of man would you be, if you turned your back on your child?’

Byren felt utterly trapped. He ran his hands through his hair. ‘I can’t live just for myself. I have responsibilities.’

‘So you’ll turn your back on Florin?’

‘I always meant to rebuild Narrowneck Tradepost for her.’ But now...

‘So your son will be a tradepost keeper?’ Anger made Orrade’s voice hard. ‘With Florin for his mother, he’ll be a big strapping lad. He should do well serving ale.’

With that, Orrade walked off, leaving Byren to wrestle with an impossible choice. If he broke off his betrothal to the queen of Merofynia to marry a destitute mountain girl, Isolt would be a laughing stock. But if he married Isolt, he had no right to Florin or their child. Was there ever a more miserable man?

From the hold below, he heard the foenix’s mournful cry. It seemed to echo how he felt.

Chapter Sixty-Three

F
YN WAITED FOR
Isolt. His whole body ached from the flying lessons of the day before. He’d been tense at first, but by the end he and Isolt had been taking turns with Loyalty. They’d even joked about finding a new wyvern mount for him to ride.

Breakfast was Fyn’s favourite time of day, even more so now that everyone else had left and he and Isolt could be alone on the terrace overlooking the Landlocked Sea. Alone, except for the servants.

Fyn watched the lords’ yachts moored on the Landlocked Sea, while he waited for Isolt. Some of the nobles had left late yesterday. Others were conducting business and would leave over the next few days.

He glanced up to the queen’s private chambers. Her curtains were still drawn. His stomach cramped with fear. It wasn’t like Isolt to sleep in. He strode inside, fighting the urge to run.

A servant answered her door. ‘The queen still sleeps.’

‘Go wake her.’

As the girl hurried off, Fyn told himself he was worrying for nothing. Isolt would join him on the terrace. They would laugh about his fears, then go see Loyalty again.

The maid shrieked. Fyn ran across the greeting chamber and into Isolt’s bedchamber.

The maid came out of the bathing chamber. ‘She’s not here.’

‘Look for a note. Maybe she got up early and went for a walk.’

The girl did as she was bid.

But Fyn feared the worst. He went to the window to check on the nobles’ yachts. Neiron’s yacht had left overnight. Cold fear closed around Fyn’s heart.

Neiron had kidnapped Isolt.

It infuriated Fyn to think that the arrogant lord had waited until Byren sailed. Clearly he feared Fyn’s brother, but felt only contempt for Fyn.

‘There’s no note,’ the girl reported. ‘She’s been taken!’

‘Quiet, I must think.’ Fyn’s mind raced. If the merchants and nobles knew the queen had been abducted, there would be chaos. ‘We’ll say that she needs to rest. Let no one in.’

‘But—’

‘Everything must appear normal. You understand?’

The maid nodded.

‘I’ll be looking for her.’ And he knew just where to look. Fyn only hoped he was in time. ‘Send for the steward and Gwalt.’

As soon as she had gone, Fyn went to Isolt’s bed. He stretched out where the queen had lain and pressed his face to the pillow, inhaling her scent. For a heartbeat she was so real to him that he felt as if he could reach out and touch her. Then he had to exhale and, as the air left his chest, a deep sense of loss filled him.

He was Isolt’s lord protector. He’d die for her, yet he’d failed her.

By the time the palace steward arrived, Fyn was waiting in the greeting chamber. As Fyn explained that the queen was over-tired and the servants were to let her rest, the steward was visibly relieved. With all the noble guests and festivities, the palace had been in upheaval for days.

Fyn met Gwalt at the door, where a whispered word ensured a message would soon be winging its way to the mage.

But Fyn wasn’t going to wait for Siordun’s help. He sent a servant to fetch Camoric. The
Flying Sarre
was one of the fastest yachts ever built. When he caught Neiron, there would be blood.

Down on the terrace, he made himself sit at the breakfast table and eat. He speared a piece of honeydew melon on his knife and chewed it mechanically.

All he could think of was Isolt in Neiron’s hands.

‘Fyn,’ Camoric said, dropping into the chair opposite. His eyes narrowed. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Have something to eat. Don’t react to what I’m about to say.’ Fyn waited until Camoric had filled his plate. ‘The queen was kidnapped last night.’

A mandarin burst in Camoric’s hand. ‘I failed you. I had men posted outside her chamber, but—’

‘I’m not blaming you. Short of sleeping at the foot of her bed, you could not have prevented this. She was taken by someone who knew the palace. Her maid did not hear a thing.’

‘Neiron?’

‘That’s my guess.’

Camoric glanced to the yachts moored just off from the palace. ‘He must have sailed in the night. We can beat him back to his estate. When I think of the queen, all alone and frightened—’

‘That’s it!’ Fyn sprang to his feet, relieved. ‘Loyalty will be able to find her. They’ve bonded.’

The captain frowned. ‘If the wyvern can sense Isolt, why didn’t she come to the queen’s rescue?’

‘Maybe they drugged Isolt to get her out of the palace.’ But now Fyn was worried. ‘What if they’ve killed Loyalty?’

Camoric shook his head. ‘The wyvern is always with the foenix. They’d have to kill both beasts.’

‘We sent Resolute with Byren, remember.’ Fyn sprang to his feet. ‘I’m going to the grotto.’

To Fyn’s relief they found Loyalty sleeping under the grotto’s light-filled dome. The wyvern was glad to see Fyn.

‘She doesn’t look worried,’ Camoric muttered.

‘If Isolt is drugged, Loyalty wouldn’t sense that she’s in trouble.’

‘Then how will you tell the wyvern to look for the queen?’

It was a good question.

Fyn reached up to place his palm on Loyalty’s throat, then called his Affinity. It flowed easily up his arm, making the stone on his ring glow. Camoric gasped.

In response to the power, Loyalty made a deep purring noise of pleasure. Concentrating, Fyn recalled the moment he’d lain on Isolt’s bed and inhaled her scent. The terrible sense of loss returned to him and he felt it mirrored in the beast. Loyalty uttered a heartfelt howl and leapt into the pool, swimming out of the grotto.

‘Quick, we’ll lose her,’ Fyn said.

He emerged in time to see the wyvern spring from the pond, shake herself and flex her wings.