The King's Bastard (26 page)

'You'll be a monk soon and girls will be the last thing on your mind.' Lence grinned. 'Or do the monks get around their vow of chastity?'

Fyn's face went bright red.

'Hey, Byren, let's get a girl for Fyn before he gives up the world. With his pretty face it shouldn't be too hard to find one who'll lift her skirts.' There was a hard edge to Lence's laughter that Byren didn't like or understand. Was Lence angry because he'd been forced to give up Elina? Byren wondered how he would feel if he had to watch Elina take another man for her lover, or, worse, her husband. With a jolt he realised that he hadn't given up hope. Not yet. Somehow he would win her trust, win her back.

Fyn went to turn away.

Lence caught his arm. 'So you think yourself too good for the rest of us, master monk?'

'Leave him alone, Lence. Fyn never asked to be a monk!' Byren snapped. 'More importantly, if Fyn saw a vision in Halcyon's Fate, then he should be the one the mystics master accepts, not his friend. Why don't you go to the mystics master, Fyn?'

Lence let Fyn go. 'Well?'

Fyn did not meet their eyes. 'It was an accident. Feldspar dropped the Fate. I picked it up and the vision came. Much as I'd like to be the one, Feldspar deserves his place with the mystics.'

Byren frowned. Fyn was lying about something.

Lence snorted. 'I don't know about you, but I'd rather be a warrior than a mystic!'

Fyn stared at Lence, the gulf between them obvious to Byren. Lence's top lip curled. Quickly, Byren retrieved the miniature from Fyn saying, 'here's your locket, Lence.'

It made him realise he had been doing this sort of thing for a while now, diverting Lence, smoothing things over. He couldn't remember when it had started, only that it had become second nature to him. He turned to Fyn. 'Your throw, pick a knife.'

Fyn stepped over to the weapon display and selected a knife.

'Yes, take your throw,' Lence urged. 'Let's see what you're made of.'

Byren's stomach knotted.

Fyn lifted his knife, but before he could take aim the door to the hall flew open and their father stalked in.

'I swear I'll throttle that girl when I catch her. Do you know what your sister's done now? Thrown away a year's negotiation with the warlord of Cockatrice Spar!' His gaze settled on Fyn. 'Do you know where she is?'

'I don't know, Father. I've been here, with Lence and Byren.'

'That's right,' Byren said.

'Well, don't just stand there. Go find her!' King Rolen roared. 'I'll be waiting at the war table. Curse her for a wyvern's whelp!'

'You two go,' Lence said. 'I must tell father about the assassination attempt.'

'What?' King Rolen muttered, then glanced swiftly to Fyn.

'Fyn came upon us in the middle of it. Because of him the swordsmen fled,' Byren explained. 'Three of them armed, and us with nothing but our ceremonial daggers, in Rolenton itself!'

'Bold and confident,' King Rolen muttered. He focused on Lence. 'Are you all right, lad?'

'Of course.' Lence laughed but it was not a happy sound.

Byren glanced to his father, who appeared not to notice the undertone of anger. Was he the only one who heard it?

'If Byren had been two minutes later he would have been kingsheir now,' Lence said.

King Rolen's worried eyes turned to Byren, who shrugged this aside. 'I was lucky to be in the right spot at the right time. Come on, Fyn. Don't forget to tell father about the cockatrice cloak, Lence.'

As he led Fyn outside Byren remembered that their father had been the younger son and he had only inherited the throne after his older brother died on the battle field. Byren shuddered. Hopefully Lence would live to a ripe old age and have many sons.

'Be glad you've been gifted to the abbey,' he told Fyn as they stopped outside the chamber door. 'Right, we'd better split up to find Piro.'

Piro had run straight to her foenix only to have her old nurse catch her kneeling there. The only other surviving menagerie beast, the unistag, gave voice as if to warn her. Turning from the waist, Piro watched Seela approach with a sinking sensation.

'There you are!' Seela cried, wringing her hands. 'Your father is stalking around the castle bellowing for you. What have you done, child?'

'It was awful, Seela. I saw Father's death!'

Seela's face registered surprise, then went slack with shock and Piro realised she'd given herself away.

She sprang to her feet, clutching her old nurse's hands. 'You mustn't tell anyone. Please, don't -'

'Of course not. What do you take me for?' Seela demanded.

Stopped midstream, Piro gaped, then simply accepted her old nurse's assurance, focusing on the most important thing. 'I must warn Father. I can't let him be killed!'

'Warn him and he'll want to know how you know.'

Again, Piro stopped to think. 'I'll say it was a dream.'

'Unless you say it was a foretelling dream sent by the gods through your Affinity, he'll dismiss it.'

She was right. Piro's shoulders sagged and she searched her old nurse's face. 'What can I do, Seela?'

'It's time you knew, Pirola.'

'Knew what?'

Seela's sad dark eyes settled on her. 'Your mother's Affinity came on her at around the same age -'

'Mother? But -'

Seela nodded sadly. 'It was about a year before her wedding. We hid her growing Affinity, Myrella and I. We were doing fine until her father came for the wedding.'

'King Merofyn the Fifth?'

'Yes. After the marriage Myrella had a vision. She saw her father dying on the deck of his ship, killed by Utland pirates. She begged him not to sail back to Merofynia, to take the overland route, but she couldn't tell him why.

'If she had, the marriage would have been annulled and war would have resulted. So Myrella let her father set sail to his death. He never reached Merofynia and your mother has kept her Affinity hidden all this time.'

'You're saying I shouldn't warn Father, that I should let him walk into a trap?' Piro shook her head, backing up a step.

'What if it is a false vision? You have no way of knowing, not without consulting the abbey mystics. What if you have misinterpreted it?' Seela pressed.

Piro licked dry lips. Before today, her Affinity had helped her find lost possessions and guess which Unknowable card would turn up. It had never frightened her. Now it made her cold with fear.

She could still taste the evil fumes on the back of her throat and, when she closed her eyes, she could still see the wyvern about to tear her father's head from his shoulders. Her stomach clenched. She squeezed her eyes shut. Tears slid down her cheeks. Brushing them away angrily, she refused to believe that her Affinity made her a channel for evil. This must be a message from the gods.

The vile taste had to mean that Rejulas might appear sweet but he was not to be trusted. And the wyvern's attack meant that Merofynia threatened... but it couldn't, not when Lence had just been betrothed to Isolt.

Piro began to pace, aware of Seela watching her. Perhaps she was mistaken, and these messages were the cruel jests of evil powers. Was the goddess angry with her for profaning the Proving today?

Her head spun and she sank to sit on the lower fence rail of the unistag's pen. He came to her, leaning over the top rail to nuzzle her head, his velvety stag's muzzle soft on the back of her neck. She rubbed his throat, taking comfort in his warm coat. He was looking for Affinity, which she usually let him lick off her fingers but, after the vision, she was drained of power. A part of her wanted to run to the abbess right now and ask the mystics mistress if her visions could be trusted. If she did, the abbess would claim her for Sylion Abbey and she couldn't bear that.

'Your father is in a fury. You must find him and apologise,' Seela urged. 'Swallow your pride, kingsdaughter, and marry a barbarian warlord. Because...' She broke off suddenly.

Piro turned to her. 'Why must I marry the warlord, Seela? What do you know, that I don't?'

'I'm just an old woman whose nurslings have all grown up.' Seela looked stricken. 'And I can't keep them safe, now that they must play Duelling Kingdoms for real.'

Piro's skin went cold. 'Where's Father?'

'At the war table.'

The war table was housed in a room directly above the trophy chamber. The table was covered with a scale model of their kingdom, its seas and surrounding enemies.

'You must go back to your chamber and prepare an apology for your father,' Seela said. 'Stay out of sight.'

Piro nodded, intending to do no such thing. It was only as she was walking back to the family's wing that she remembered the old seer's words.

Like mother, like daughter. The seer had been right!

Piro rubbed her arms to settle the goose bumps. Just because the old seer had been right about one thing, that did not mean she was right about anything else. The mystics mistress had said the future held many possible paths... but Piro didn't know how to find the right path.

She would tell her mother about the dream and ask her advice. Silent on her indoor slippers, she ran up the servant steps to her mother's private chamber which was down the far end of the solarium. A tapestry hung over the door to the servants' stair to keep out draughts, but it did not stop the voices.

Piro slowed. That was her mother speaking, but who was the man with her? She crept to the tapestry and parted it a chink to see the new Lord Cobalt standing much too close to her mother, who had her back to him as she looked through the diamond panes of the narrow window.

'I was twenty-two and you were only a year older, Myrella. I adored you. I thought you were wasted on Rolen.'

'And I told you I had room in my heart for only one man.'

'That's not the way I remember it. You told me you loved me and -'

'That I would never betray my husband.' She sighed, turning to face him. Seeing how close he was, the queen brushed past him to pace over to the fireplace. Piro was struck by how small and fragile her mother looked next to Illien, who was almost as tall as her father.

The queen turned to face Cobalt. 'I did love you, Illien. I was lonely. To Rolen I was a means to an end, to you I was a person. But nothing ever happened so we have nothing to be ashamed of. And then your father sent you away.' She summoned a brave smile. 'I have thought of you many times over the years and hoped you were happy.'

He came closer, voice dropping. 'I thought of you, too. Myrella. I never forgot...'

She held a hand up between them in a gesture of refusal. 'What I said still stands, Illien. Rolen's known me since I was eight years old. It took twenty years of marriage and four children but he has learnt to trust me. He loves me and I love him for the good qualities he has.' Tears glittered in her eyes. She cleared her throat, adopting a more formal tone. 'I was so very sorry to hear about your father and bride. Had you been married long?'

'We were wed...' his voice cracked, 'the day before we set sail -'

'Oh, Illien!' She reached out to him.

He went to her, sinking to his knees so that he pressed his face to her chest as he wept. She stroked his dark hair, her voice soothing.

Piro let the tapestry fall back into place, stunned. Her mother had loved Illien? Still loved him? But he was the opposite of her father, cultured, elegant, clever... Piro winced.

Stunned, she retreated down the stairs, her stomach churning. Unbidden, Affinity swelled under her heart like a thousand anxious butterflies. She had thought herself safe from it after the vision. Affinity had to be used or it would surface when she least wanted it to.

There was only one thing to do.

Chapter Thirteen

Fyn ran straight to the menagerie where the foenix lived. No sign of Piro. Though he rarely saw the bird it remembered him and gave a low interrogative chirrup of greeting. He stooped to scratch the foenix's scaled chest. As he stood up Byren arrived, his broad shoulders blocking the entrance.

'So you thought to look here too, Fyn? No luck?'

Fyn shook his head and rose. They strode out of the courtyard together and along the hall.

'Don't take Lence to heart,' Byren said. 'He's angry all the time now and it eats away at him.'

'I don't see what he's got to be angry about. He's kingsheir and father's favourite. Of all of us, he's most like father.'

Byren frowned for an instant, then dredged up a grin. 'Except Piro. She inherited his temper.' He shook his head. 'I don't know what's got into her this time.'

'Her heart's in the right place,' Fyn said, remembering how she'd risked the abbey's wrath to help him. 'But she doesn't think things through.'

They came to a point where two sets of stairs from different wings fed onto a hallway with many doors.

'I'll try the kitchen. Cook is probably hiding her again. If not, I'll ask Seela,' Byren said. 'You try the stable loft.'

Fyn nodded.

Illien came down the stairs from the family wing and crossed the hall to join them. 'Byren, what's going on?'