Fyn frowned. 'If the mage would only give me Captain Nefysto and the Wyvern's Whelp, I'd lead a raid deep into Merofynia to rescue Byren.'
'The mage doesn't want you both dead. He has his own plans. Byren is safe for now.'
'Safe? In a cage at Palatyne's mercy?' Fyn exploded. His head swam and he staggered. Isolt rose to help him. He brushed her aside. 'Freezing Sylion, Tyro. You can tell your mage, Byren is not a piece in his Kingdoms game. If Fyn Kingson appears in Ostron Isle tonight, Palatyne will find out. He knows about the alliance, he might kill Byren!'
'Or he might offer to ransom him to you.'
'He might,' Fyn conceded slowly. 'But I don't want to gamble with my brother's life.'
'Fyn's right,' Piro spoke up. 'Who would pay this ransom? We are destitute. The food we eat and the clothes we wear come from the mage.'
'He would gladly pay,' Tyro revealed. 'He wants to restore the balance of power in the three kingdoms.'
Piro seemed convinced, but Fyn was not.
'You can tell the mage I am too weak to attend the ceremony tonight,' he told Tyro. 'I'm going back to bed.'
'I'll help you,' Isolt said.
'I can manage.'
'I am a healer, Fyn.'
'Rest is all I need.' He marched off. It was only when he got out of sight that he leant against the wall to catch his breath and wait for the grey specks to vanish from his vision. He cursed himself for being rude to Isolt.
She would hate him. Good.
That was better than her ever guessing how he really felt. And he needed privacy for he was going to rescue Byren. As soon as the others left for the elector's coronation he would slip off Mage Isle.
Piro watched Isolt climb into the mage's carriage, lifting her ankle-length silk skirt and revealing the jewelled clasp on her slippers.
'What took you so long?' The mage thumped the roof of the carriage with his cane and it lurched, sending Isolt onto her seat with a thud.
Piro hid a smile. Tyro was good at this.
'I had to check on Fyn,' Isolt said primly, slipping back into her Merofynian court persona. 'He was sleeping. I think he overdid it in the garden today.'
'The arrogance of youth,' Mage Tsulamyth muttered. 'Now you two keep your ears open. Any interesting gossip, report back to me.' His deep-set eyes gleamed. 'Many men make the mistake of thinking power comes from the sword, but real power comes from information. Remember that. One day you will both be queens.'
Piro snorted. 'I don't want to be queen.'
'But think of the good you could do,' Isolt countered.
'How will you do good, while married to Palatyne?'
'I will never marry Palatyne. In fact...' Isolt's small mouth settled in a grim line, 'I will never marry!'
Fyn's skin felt clammy with sweat as he jumped down from the borrowed horse. Luckily the wharfs were almost deserted. Everyone who could wrangle an invitation was up at the gardens for the inauguration ceremony. Fyn headed for the Wyvern's Whelp. Everything rested on his ability to bluff Nefysto, and the captain was no fool.
A single sailor stood on watch, having his own feast of wine and a leg of ham. He waved to Fyn. 'Good to see you back on your feet, little monk!'
'Captain in his cabin?' Fyn asked.
'You missed him. He's with his family, up at the ceremony.'
Fyn cursed silently. He should have anticipated this. He slid out a message cylinder, pinched from the war table room. 'We're supposed to sail at first light. Give this to the captain when he comes in.'
The sailor shook his head. 'Can't be done. Half the crew won't be back till midday and the ship has to be provisioned.'
'Very well. But my mission is of the greatest urgency. I will return at lunchtime tomorrow.' Fyn strode off. As soon as he was out of sight he bent double to catch his breath.
A snatch of music and laughter wafted down from the elector's gardens.
Isolt was up there. He'd pretended to be asleep when she came to check on him. It had been on the tip of his tongue to apologise. Since he was going to rescue Byren, so his brother could marry her and unite their kingdoms, he deserved one more chance to see her.
Fyn headed up the slope. He would blend into the crowd, watch her from afar. He entered through one of the many garden archways and made for the lantern-dotted terraces. Now that he was here and saw the crowds he realised how hopeless it was. Still he wandered, listening for Isolt's voice in the laughter and music. There were rock pools amid artfully constructed gardens, and heavenly scented flowers glowed in the velvety night.
He thought Isolt would be up on the main terrace where the elector was, with the aristocracy of Ostron Isle, but he found her alone by a pool. Pale flowers floated on its surface, barely disturbing the stars' reflection.
She wore something white and filmy, and her head-dress was threaded with zircons that glinted like stars in the black sable of her hair. She was so beautiful, she took his breath away. He should leave.
He meant to take one look and go but she gulped back a sob and wiped her fingers across her cheeks.
'What's wrong?'
'Oh, Fyn. What are you doing here?' She turned away from him and hastily wiped her face, turning back with a smile. 'I thought you were sleeping...' She frowned, putting it all together. 'You're leaving, aren't you? You're going to rescue your brother.'
He nodded. 'I'm sailing on the Wyvern's Whelp tomorrow. Don't tell the mage.'
'Of course not. Take me with you!'
There was nothing Fyn would have liked more.
Piro paced the terrace searching for Isolt. That stupid woman, the new Elector Cera, had told Isolt her father was very sick. Her friend had gone very pale and slipped away as soon as she could.
Now Piro couldn't see the kingsdaughter anywhere. Her heart missed a beat. What if Isolt had been kidnapped? Should she find Tyro in his mage's disguise, or keep looking for Isolt?
Piro leant her elbows on the balustrade and stared down into the lantern-lit gardens below. Was that Isolt's white gown by a rock pool? Was someone with her?
Trying to keep the location fixed in her head, Piro threaded her way down shallow steps, through arches, around fountains and winding streams. A night-bird sang its sweet mournful song. Piro rounded a bend in the path and saw Isolt and her companion through the fronds of palm trees. Even by starlight Piro recognised Fyn.
She was about to call out when she overheard Fyn speak.
'I can't, it's too dangerous.'
'I can help rescue Byren. After all, I am still Isolt Merofyn Kingsdaughter.'
'The guards would tell Palatyne and you'd end up his captive.'
'Not all the guards are loyal to him. Some are still loyal to my father. Besides, we'd be away before Palatyne discovers we've been into Port Mero.'
Fyn considered this. 'We'd have to tell Piro. She -'
'We can't tell her. She'd give us away.'
'Nonsense!'
'Oh, Fyn. You haven't been here. I've seen the way she and Tyro send each other secret looks.'
Fyn looked stunned. 'Piro's in love with the mage's agent? Are you sure? She doesn't seem to be in love to me.'
Isolt gave an odd little laugh. 'Men, what would they know about love? So, I'll pack a few things and meet you tomorrow. But how will I get away? I know. I'll wait in the grotto under the tower. Sail a boat around to me.'
'You would risk your life for Byren?'
Piro suspected Isolt was risking her life for Fyn.
But Isolt only nodded. 'It's decided then. I'll meet you in the grotto.'
Piro's first impulse was to tell them they were wrong. She was loyal. But it would mean disclosing why she and Tyro had been exchanging meaningful looks, and his secret was not hers to reveal. Sad at heart, she retreated.
On the terraces the celebrations continued, and Piro found Mage Tsulamyth hobbling around looking annoyed.
Seeing Piro, he beckoned. 'You don't join in the games and entertainment? A pretty young thing like you should have s
ome fun.'
'One party is much like another. I'm no butterfly -'
'What are you then, Piro?' he asked, slipping into Tyro's voice.
She looked away. She had been Piro Rolen Kingsdaughter, expected to marry well for the sake of her family, but she had hated it. Ironically, in some ways she had been happiest as Lord Dunstany's slave. Then she recalled how Palatyne had claimed her for Isolt's slave and how Isolt was considered a prize for the victor... 'I wish I were a man!'
He laughed and her cheeks burned at his tone.
'Consider this, Piro,' Tyro said. 'Who taught you to speak three languages, heal and stitch a wound?'
'My mother. But it was a man who killed her.'
'True,' he acknowledged. 'In the Duelling Kingdoms game which piece is the most powerful?'
'The king.'
'No. The game is lost if the queen falls before her king does. But if the king falls, the queen fights on.' He smiled and slipped back into the mage's voice. 'Find Isolt. We have done our duty. We can leave now.'
Piro nodded. Should she tell Tyro about Fyn and Isolt's plans? She was sure he had plans of his own. But he still wore the amber soul-pendant around his neck.
If he did not trust her, she could not trust him.
The next morning, Piro looked up as Isolt bustled into the room to collect her basket of herbal remedies.
'Fyn's awake at last. I'm going to check on him.'
'I'll come with you.' Piro slipped off the bed. The foenix and wyvern padded after them.
Fyn looked up as they entered his chamber, his expression guarded.
Piro forced a smile. 'Feeling better?'
'A bit. I think I overdid it yesterday. My head's aching.'
'Hmm. Could be fever. You should stay in bed and rest today,' Isolt advised, just as Piro knew she would. Didn't they realise they couldn't fool a player like herself?
While Isolt mixed a tonic and something for Fyn's head, Piro sat on the windowseat with the foenix on her lap, stroking his soft feathers. She felt the moment he fell asleep, his body relaxing completely. If only Isolt and Fyn would trust her. If only she could tell them the truth about Tyro and the mage.
'There.' Isolt packed her things away. 'I'll tell the servants not to disturb you. Come on, Piro.'
She slid out from under the foenix, leaving him asleep in Fyn's room. Back in their chamber, Isolt went to the mirror to comb her long hair. She met Piro's eyes in the looking-glass. 'I've been neglecting Loyalty. I think I'll take her down to the grotto for a swim.'
'I know where you are going.'
Isolt's hand stilled for a second, then kept moving. 'You're welcome to come for a swim.'
'You're going with Fyn. He sails for Merofynia today.'
Isolt lowered the comb. 'Your Affinity told you?'
Piro let her think that. 'Tyro has plans -'
Isolt spun around. 'I know you like Tyro, but we can't trust the mage. Tsulamyth doesn't have to save Byren while he has Fyn in reserve.'
Piro's mouth went dry. They were right. One kingson was as good as another, as long as there was a legitimate heir for the people to rally behind.
'Don't give us away, Piro,' Isolt pleaded.
'Of course not.' But they didn't trust her and this hurt. They should have asked her to come with them.
'I must go.' Isolt slipped a jar of wyvern-nip in her basket then clicked her tongue to call Loyalty. The wyvern scrambled over, reared up on her hind legs and put her front paws on Isolt's shoulders, nuzzling her neck.
Isolt laughed. 'She knows it's time for a swim.'
The wyvern sank to her feet and padded to the door. Isolt looked over at Piro, troubled. 'I don't want you to get in trouble with the mage because of us. Pretend you didn't know our plans.'
Piro could not think of a thing to say as Isolt slipped away. Right up until the door closed, she had been expecting Isolt to ask her to come along.
Tears stung Piro's eyes.
Byren and Fyn needed her. They all needed her. Surely this was a nexus point? She was not going to be left behind.
Piro blinked her tears away and darted out into the corridor. Down the spiral stairs she went until she reached the landing where the stairs split. One branch went to the kitchen, the other went far below to the grotto.
There was a sound behind her. Piro spun in time to see Ovido run away. She cursed. He would report to Tyro. Even if Tyro did not suspect, he might come down to the grotto to picnic with them, and that would spoil everything.
Piro ran after Ovido, but the boy knew shortcuts and by the time she reached the war table chamber, he was already at the door. With a grin of victory he slipped inside.
Piro heard Tyro's amused voice. 'Yes, Ovido?'
'Isolt goes to the grotto.'
Piro entered in time to see Tyro leaning over his war table. He held a piece as if he had been about to move it. Piro would not let herself look at her piece.
'Go play, Ovido.' Tyro dismissed him.
Now that Tyro knew they were going down to the grotto he would suspect something if she didn't invite him. But he looked too preoccupied to join them, so she took a gamble. 'Isolt and I are going to spend the morning in the grotto. Would you like to have lunch with us?'
Tyro glanced at Piro, taking in her open sandals, light muslin tunic, her hair loose to her waist. 'Tempting as that offer is, I must refuse. I have work to do. Come closer.'
Piro stepped forwards, determined not to let him see through her.
'Can I trust you, Piro?'
She went cold. 'I haven't told Fyn and Isolt about you.'
'No. Perhaps I should ask if you trust me?'
'Should I?'
He laughed softly. 'Good answer.' Then he grew serious as he removed the chain from around his neck, bringing the amber pendant into the light. Her mouth went dry with fear and she tried to draw back. He caught her hand, his eyes holding a plea.
'When I created this, I did not know the Piro I now know.' He turned her hand over, putting the amber in her palm. 'Accept it with my apologies.'
She lifted the chain so that the stone swung. Holding it to the light she expected to see herself trapped inside. Instead she saw an innocent air bubble. She gasped.
'It was illusion, Piro. I used the starkiss-scented candles to lower your resistance. I needed a way to keep you by my side, so I could ensure your safety. It was for your own protection but, by doing this, I forfeited your trust.'
She stared at the amber. She had never been trapped. A rush of anger filled her. She hated being manipulated.
'Stay with me today, Piro.'
Startled by the change of subject, she met his eyes. They were too searching. For her own protection, she pulled back. 'I can't stay. And I don't want this either.' She dropped the stone and its chain onto the war table. 'I don't like being tricked.'
'Then I have played the game badly.'
Piro turned on her heel and left him.
Fyn leant his head against the cold wall of the landing. The smell of savoury pastries wafted up one stairwell. Isolt had gone down the other stair. Despite promising otherwise, he was going to leave without her.
Last night he had tossed and turned, too troubled to sleep. It was wrong of him to take Isolt along just because he wanted her by his side. She was safer on Mage Isle. He would never forgive himself if anything happened to her.
Even if she was furious with him, he had to tell her before he left. He could not leave her waiting in the grotto for him, that would be too cruel.
Feet heavy with reluctance, Fyn padded down to the steps to the grotto, where he found Isolt paddling her feet while the wyvern frolicked in the water.
A pearly light made the limestone walls of the grotto glow, made Isolt's skin translucent and her eyes luminous. And he was going to refuse her. Fyn hardened his heart.
She sprang to her feet. 'I thought you were bringing a boat. I'm ready. I've brought the wyvern-nip but no clothes. I can wear yours and roll up the legs... What's wrong?'<
br />
'I'm not here to take you with me. I'm here to say goodbye.'
'No, Fyn!' She ran up the grotto's shallow steps to the entrance where he stood. 'Don't go without me. You could be killed.'
'I can't leave Byren to die, and I can't take you into danger.'
'You can't take me into...' Her eyes widened. 'How dare you decide my fate, marrying me off to your brother to save his kingdom? Maybe I want to make my own future!'
Fyn shook his head. 'I won't take you.'
Isolt's eyes blazed.
He was sure she hated him. It was for the best. Without a word he turned and left, striding up the stairs.
So deep in thought was he, he almost did not hear someone running down the steps. There was just time to duck into a storeroom doorway before Piro flew past him, hair streaming behind her.
What was she up to now? Silly little Piro.
Piro jumped down the last two steps into the grotto, expecting to find it empty, but Isolt was there by the pool with the wyvern's head in her lap, weeping silently.
Isolt turned at the sound of Piro's feet, her face awash with tears. When she saw who it was, she looked away, clearly disappointed.
'He didn't come?' Piro asked.
'He came to tell me he would not take me.' Isolt's voice grew thin with anger. 'Too dangerous, he said. But the real reason is that he sees me only as a prize. Fyn meant to use me in his game of Kingdoms, just like all the others. And I thought he was different!'
'Fyn is different.' Piro knelt beside her. 'I'm sure he was thinking only of your safety.'
Isolt wiped the tears from her cheeks with tight, angry gestures and stared across the pool, refusing to meet Piro's eyes.
'Look!' Her lips parted hopefully.
Piro followed her gaze. A shadow appeared in the low arched entrance to the Ring Sea. A small boat was riding the gentle swell into the grotto.
'Fyn?' Isolt stood and ran around the pool's edge.
Piro followed. Loyalty whined uneasily.
On the next up-swell, the boat slid into the grotto and four men lifted their heads. They were not Captain Nefysto's sea-hounds. Piro had a bad feeling as two of them swung coils of rope. With a powerful stroke of the oars, the oarsman drove the boat across the pool, reaching the far side. The men climbed out, blocking off their escape.
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