The King's Bastard (7 page)

'The old ones are asleep in the attics.' Elina's dark eyes twinkled, reflecting the candlelight. 'They snore so badly we do without their services in our bed chambers. As for the young ones...' Colour crept up her cheeks. 'Father has been laying down the law, saying who can marry who, that sort of thing. Why would they stay when they know they can work for wealthy merchant families who won't interfere with their lives and pay them twice as much?'

'It's the same everywhere,' Byren agreed. Though they didn't have those problems at Rolenhold because of his mother's tact. He opened the door to Elina's bedchamber. She slipped inside. It was cold and dark. He didn't want to leave her alone like this. 'I'll make up the fire for you.'

'Thank you.' She went to light the candle on the mantelpiece.

Her gasp surprised him and he looked up in time to see her suck her knuckle.

Springing to his feet, Byren caught her hand, turning it to the light. 'You're hurt?'

'It's nothing. A hot wax burn. Oh, Byren!' She bit back a sob.

He reached out to console her but she surprised him, running to the door, closing it so that no one would hear her cry. Resting her forehead on the door, she sobbed silently.

Byren couldn't stand it. He came up behind her, taking her shoulders in his hands, feeling her slender frame shake. She turned in his arms. Murmuring her name, he brushed the tears from her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. He kissed her forehead, her closed lids, her wet cheeks.

And suddenly she was kissing him.

He didn't know how it happened but her skin felt so hot and her lips tasted salty. She strained against him, desperate for comfort.

From a great distance, one small part of his mind said,
Stop. This is not right. She doesn't want you. She wants to blot out the pain.

He wanted to ignore it, but... gulping a breath, he lifted his head, forcing himself to pull back. She came after him.

He stepped aside and pulled the door open.

She stared at him, unable to understand, lips swollen with his kisses, eye lashes matted with tears.

He knew if he stayed one moment longer he was lost and he didn't want to make love with her in pain and desperation. Unable to speak, he stepped out into the hall, swinging the door closed behind him.

In the cold dark he dragged in ragged breaths, then felt his way along to the door of the chamber he and Lence always shared when they came to stay. Only a patch of starlight lit the nearest bed. He stumbled to it and threw himself on the covers. He could still smell her on his skin. His body ached for her. He'd never sleep.

He woke the next morning wondering why he felt terrible.

Then it all came back to him and, still dressed in the clothes of last night, he splashed water on his face then stepped into the familiar corridor where he had spent so many happy times as a child. His boots squeaked on the polished floor. The stained-glass window at the far end sent streamers of coloured light up the hallway. Lovely. But in case of attack they'd have to retreat to the stronghold where he, Lence and Orrade had played at being warriors with Elina running after them wanting to join in. How they used to tease her.

He smiled. They had all dreamed of being great heroes. Not much chance of that now, not with the alliance plans his father had set in motion.

Yet... those grim, silent raiders troubled him. The spar warlords swore allegiance to King Rolen, but they were always looking for a weakness to exploit. He'd have to mention the raiders to his father and find out where they'd struck.

A soft step made him turn. Seeing Elina, his heart lurched and his body clenched.

Elina blushed, the memory of last night obviously uppermost in her mind, too.

'Oh, Byren, you're awake. You look like you slept in your clothes.'

'I did.'

She blushed and glanced down into her apron, which she had folded up to carrying something. A tendril of long black hair had worked loose from her plait and it moved with each quick breath as if it had a life of its own. It fascinated Byren. He longed to lift it aside and take up where they had left off last night. He dare not move.

The silence stretched.

Then her apron gave a whimper and she laughed, opening its folds to show him three liver-coloured retrievers. They looked no more than two weeks old. The puppies squirmed over each other, eager and bright-eyed.

'Regal's had her pups so I'm bringing them for Orrade to see. I mean...' Her face crumpled, chin trembling as she closed her eyes, fighting tears.

Byren wanted to take her in his arms. He knew how she would feel and longed to explore the heat of her lips. With a start, he realised he wanted to do nothing more than hold her forever and protect her, yet he could not save her from the love she felt for her brother. Compelled to ease her pain, he opened his mouth but could think of nothing useful to say. So he remained silent, impotent.

She gave a muffled sound that was half sob, half laughter. 'Silly pups. They wriggle so, they'd take a tumble.'

'And fine pups they are, too,' he said, watching her face.

She smiled through her tears. 'Here, take the spotty one. He's the worst wriggler.'

Byren took the pup and she transferred the apron ends to one hand, using the other hand to wipe her face. She looked up at him, lashes damp with tears. 'Can you tell I've been crying? Not that Orrade will be able to see. Oh, Byren. I can't bear it. Father is devastated. I feared he'd have another brain spasm, when he found us on the stairs.'

Now was not the time to tell her how he felt and ask her to marry him.

She drew in a deep, shaky breath. 'I'm ready.'

They headed towards Orrade's chamber.

'Has the healer seen Orrie this morning?' he asked.

Elina nodded.

'What did she say?'

'The same, wait and see. I've been praying to Halcyon all night.' Her voice dropped as they approached the door. 'He's being so brave about it. I can't stand it.'

Byren grinned. 'That's Orrie for you.'

He opened the door, and Elina sailed in with a determined smile. 'Guess what I have, Orrie.'

Orrade lifted his head. He was sitting up in bed, a much neater bandage around his head. Someone had washed and combed his waist-length black hair, then braided it in one long plait which looked thinner than usual. Byren remembered Elina had clipped it at the back to clean the wound properly.

'And what do you have, Elina?' he asked.

'Go on, guess.'

Orrade rolled his sightless eyes towards his father and brother, who were on the far side of the bed. Unless you watched closely it was hard to tell that he was blind.

'Lord Dovecote.' Byren greeted him formally, out of respect. 'It is good to see you.'

'Byren Kingson.' The old lord acknowledged Byren with a half-bow. When Byren turned fifteen and became a man, the friendly cuff over the ear had become a formal greeting. He still missed it. But that was the Old Dove for you. Having fought beside Byren's grandfather and then his father in the last war against Merofynia, he had been ruthless in battle. The servants still whispered about how he had stood impassive while his eldest son was executed, because of his association with the Servants of Palos.

Cold disquiet gripped Byren. Sylion take Orrade and his ideals.

'I think I was too tired to explain properly last night. We owe our lives to Garzik and Captain Blackwing,' Byren said.

'It's all right. I told father about our last-minute rescue,' Orrade explained. He reached for his brother, who caught his hand in both of his and squeezed.

Lord Dovecote nodded. 'My son has told me how you refused to leave him, Byren. I am indebted to you.'

Byren said nothing, embarrassed.

As if sensing his discomfort, Elina turned to her brother. 'So, you can't guess what I have here, Orrie? Hold out your hands.'

'Why? Are you going to give me something loathsome?'

She laughed.

Byren's spotted pup wriggled, then whimpered.

Orrade turned his way. 'Don't tell me Regal's had her pups?'

Elina laughed again, then climbed onto the bed beside him, dumping two puppies in his lap. She beckoned Byren to bring the third.

He stepped up to the bed, placing the pup in Orrade's outstretched hands. His friend brought the wriggling lump of warm fur to his cheek and rubbed his chin on the puppy's back. His sightless eyes filled with tears.

Elina looked around, desperately searching for something to distract him. Her gaze fell to the pouch at Byren's waist. 'I see a glint of silver. What gift have you bought me this time?'

He looked down to discover the puppy's squirming must have worked the pouch's tie loose.

Before he could stop Elina, her hand darted to his waist pouch and she pulled out the chain. The symbol of Palos swung in an arc for all to see.

'An archer?' Elina frowned.

'Hush, girl,' her father snapped, springing to his feet.

One look at Lord Dovecote's face told Byren he knew this was no innocent representation of a bowman.

'Give me that... that vile thing!' her father ordered.

Lips parting in surprise, Elina walked around the bed to hand her father the chain with its damning pendant. Byren stood there helpless.

'What is it? What's wrong?' Orrade asked.

'Your father has found the Palos pendant. My pendant,' Byren said, then heard what he'd said and regretted it. But he could not take it back.

'Byren!' Orrade protested.

'Palos?' Elina repeated. 'But -'

'Don't do this, Byren,' Orrade pleaded.

'Servant of Palos?' Garzik whispered. 'Betrayer of Rolencia? Impossible, why would Byren betray his own -'

'Quiet!' Lord Dovecote's voice cracked like a whip.

Everyone fell silent.

Except Byren. He had to make Lord Dovecote understand. 'It is a pendant of Palos but it has nothing to do with the traitors, who tried to -'

'You've foresworn women. You've chosen to join
their
ranks. Do you deny it?' Lord Dovecote demanded.

Byren did not look at Orrade, did not give him a chance to damn himself. 'Palos was a great leader. He nearly united -'

'Silence!' Lord Dovecote bellowed, then grimaced as if it pained him even to look at Byren. His words slurred badly. 'Your grandfather was my dearest friend. In memory of the man whose name you bear I will not reveal this to your father. But I won't have a filthy lover of men in my house!'

'It's not true.' Elina ran around the bed to Byren, catching his hands in hers. 'This must be a mistake. Tell me it's not true?'

But Byren could not, not without implicating Orrade.

Elina shook her head in disbelief.

Lord Dovecote started to stride around the bed. 'Get away from him, Elina. He's not fit to eat at our table.'

'Then banish me, not him.' Orrade's voice vibrated with anger. 'Because that is my pendant.'

'No, Orrie,' Byren whispered.

'Ha!' Lord Dovecote's eyes widened with shock and pain, then narrowed as he looked from Byren to his son. 'So that is how it is.'

Elina glanced from her brother to Byren. 'So that's why you...'

She dropped Byren's hand as if burnt, drawing back until her thighs hit the bed where she sat down abruptly.

'No, you have it wrong, father,' Orrade insisted. 'Byren was trying to protect me -'

Lord Dovecote's scornful laugh cut him off. 'Why would he do that unless he was your lover?'

He strode to the door, checked the hall and, seeing no servants, pulled on the bellrope, jerking it angrily. No one spoke as they waited for the servants to come. The old lord thrust the damning pendant into his vest, muttering under his breath, 'I must be cursed. First my eldest son, now this one!'

Orrade swung his legs off the bed, to stand in his night-shirt and bare feet. With his head wrapped in the bandage he looked vulnerable but determined. 'I can't let you suffer for me, Byren. I swear, father -'

'Silence. You are foresworn. Your word is worthless!'

Several worried servants bustled into the room.

Lord Dovecote straightened to his full height, silver hair bright against his pale, partly paralysed face. 'Before the gods and these servants I disinherit Orrade Dovecoteson. I disown you. I disown you, I disown you. Now leave my estate and never set foot on it again.'

The servants stood there stunned, a plump middle-aged woman with a damp apron, an old man with a candle trimmer, two girls of thirteen carrying clean washing and two boys of fourteen, who must have been out chopping wood for they were sweating profusely.

'I'll go, and gladly.' Orrade stood stiff and regal, looking like a younger version of his father.

The puppies whimpered. When one nearly fell off the bed Byren went to save it, but Elina scooped it up from under his hands.

'Don't touch it. Don't touch any of them.' She gathered all the puppies in her arms. Face damp with tears, eyes glazed with shock, she turned on him. 'Don't come near me. I never want to see you again!'