Piro had been on edge all night, afraid the old comtissa would drop dead between one course and next. She longed to tell Siordun about her vision, but he’d sent his apologies, claiming ‘the mage needed him’.
Very well, if he had more important things to do, then so had she. By the time he arrived tomorrow, if all went according to plan, the wyvern and Kaspian would be bonded.
Opening the tall glass doors, Piro slipped out onto her balcony and looked for Kaspian on his. There was no sign of him. Had he fallen asleep while waiting for her?
She judged the distance to Kaspian’s balcony. It was not too far.
Wearing her sea-hound breeches, which she’d rescued from the overzealous maid, Piro climbed over the balustrade and crept along the ledge and onto the next balcony. She went to open his doors.
Locked. She could not believe it! Furious, she tapped on the glass.
After a several moments, Kaspian opened the door, looking ghostly in his nightshirt. He’d taken off his sling; a pale bandage was wound around his forearm. ‘Piro, you shouldn’t—’
She pushed past him, entering the dim chamber. ‘Why aren’t you ready? I waited for you. You want to bond with Valiant, don’t you?’
‘Of course I do, but...’
‘Well, come on. Pull on a pair of breeches.’
He stared at her.
She returned his stare.
He let his breath out in a huff of annoyance. ‘Turn around.’
She put her back to him and folded her arms, waiting impatiently while he dressed.
‘You shouldn’t come to my chamber,’ he told her. ‘We’re not betrothed. You’re not a married woman. Even if you were, I’d go to you. As an unmarried girl, you must be circumspect—’
‘Are you done yet?’ She turned. He was still bare-chested, and lacing up his breeches. His face might be as pretty as a girl’s but the rest of him was all male. ‘Do you have the key to the wyvern’s cage?’
‘I do, but—’
‘Then come on.’
He didn’t budge. ‘You’re not going to let Val out, are you? Because I don’t think that’s a good idea.’
‘No. I’m not going to let him out.’
‘Then why do we need the key?’
‘In case.’ She said no more and headed for the balcony.
‘You’re going to climb down?’ He caught her arm. ‘Are you serious?’
She slipped free of his grasp. ‘There’s a servant at my door, a big fellow who moves like a fighter. He’s been told to watch me. Fera-something.’
‘Feratore.’ His lips twitched. ‘Not much gets past you.’
‘I’m not stupid.’ Piro nodded to his bandage. ‘Is your arm too sore to climb?’
‘No. It’s almost healed.’
‘Then follow me.’ She darted through the balcony doors and peered over the balustrade. The climb had not looked hard when she’d inspected it that afternoon. By starlight, the ledges and carvings were not easy to make out.
Kaspian joined her. ‘Reconsidering?’
‘Never.’ She swung her leg over the balustrade and climbed onto the ledge. ‘Come on.’
Piro scrambled down the wall, then jumped the last stretch to the ground. She waited only long enough for him to land beside her, before making her way through the courtyard’s ornamental fruit trees.
As she headed for the building on the far side, he caught her arm. ‘If we don’t want to be seen, we need to go through the kitchen herb garden.’
The wooden gate to the walled-garden swung on well-oiled hinges. Here, warmth lingered on the still air, radiating from the stone walls. Piro smelled oregano and sage. It made her homesick for her mother’s herb garden.
Kaspian caught her arm at the far door. ‘Since they locked him up, I’ve been sneaking out to see Valiant before I go to bed and sometimes the cook sips wine with the gardener.’
She liked him better for this confession.
Kaspian opened the door ever so slightly to peer through. He let out his breath. ‘No one’s there tonight. Come on.’
They slipped into the servant’s courtyard. Piro could smell the freshly turned soil and sensed the wyvern. Her Affinity surged with each beat of her heart and slid down her arms into her hands until it felt as if she wore gloves of power.
‘I’m later than usual,’ Kaspian whispered. ‘I wonder if Val’s awake.’
‘Oh, he’s awake alright.’
‘Your Affinity tells you this? That must be why the mage wants Agent Tyro to train you. My grandmother says you’re wasted on the mage. She says you’d be a valuable asset to house Cinnamome. She says I’m to charm you, but—’
‘Don’t worry. No one can charm me.’ Eyes fixed on the cage against the far wall, Piro almost tripped over a raised garden bed.
As Kaspian steadied her, she felt a sharp sting just before his hand closed around her bare arm.
Kaspian gasped. ‘What was that?’
‘A little warning slap of power,’ Piro guessed. ‘You have Affinity?’
‘Some.’
‘Good. That will help.’ She’d reached the cage. ‘Now give me the key.’
‘I don’t think that’s—’
The wyvern gave voice.
‘Quickly,’ Piro urged. ‘Before someone comes.’
‘I’m not opening it. Val’s very strong and doesn’t like strangers. I...’ Kaspian broke off.
Piro had reached through the cage bars to stroke the wyvern’s throat. A deep rumble came from the Affinity beast.
‘He likes you.’ Kaspian sounded as if he was torn between amazement and resentment.
‘All animals like me.’
‘You must take after Mad King Byren the Fourth.’
‘Mad?’ She’d never heard her grandfather described this way before.
‘My apologies. A slip of the tongue.’
‘Why mad? What’s he supposed to have done?’
He hesitated.
‘Kaspian...’
He sighed. ‘They say King Byren liked animals better than people.’
Piro laughed. ‘That’s because he kept a menagerie of Affinity beasts.’ The wyvern butted the cage, clearly impatient. ‘Open the door.’
But still the youth hesitated. It wasn’t until Piro had the wyvern on his knees, with his vulnerable neck exposed, that Kaspian unlocked the cage.
Piro slipped inside, drawing Kaspian after her. The moment her hand touched Kaspian’s, she felt his Affinity trying to connect with the wyvern’s primal power.
Kaspian’s Affinity was weak in comparison, and would have remained contained by his earnest personality and self discipline, if she hadn’t been able to link them. She became a channel for power. For her, it was the most natural thing in the world.
‘There.’ She opened her eyes. ‘You complement each other. Valiant needs guidance. You need to unleash your true potential.’
But Kaspian wasn’t listening. He dropped to his knees to hug Valiant, pressing his cheek to the wyvern’s throat, where the beast’s Affinity-rich blood pulsed just under the skin.
‘It’s done,’ Piro said. ‘We should be getting back.’
Too deeply immersed in their bond, neither beast nor boy acknowledged her. She should have seen this coming.
Well, Kaspian could just stay here tonight. With the wyvern for company, he wouldn’t feel the cold. She left the cage door ajar.
It had been easy to facilitate the bond between Kaspian and his Affinity beast. She didn’t see what all the fuss was about. Next time she was in Merofynia, she’d help Isolt bond with her wyvern, and then Loyalty would be safe.
Feeling the satisfaction of a job well done, Piro returned to her chamber, climbed into bed and fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.
AS FYN FOLLOWED the lad from Benetir Estate, his stomach cramped with an odd combination of fear and excitement, and his mind raced. Tonight, he had to prove himself worthy of Byren’s faith as well as proving himself to the Merofynian nobles.
Most importantly, he had to prove himself to Isolt. He’d tried to anticipate every eventuality, but so much could go wrong his head ached.
‘This way.’ Young Garyth led Fyn up the wharf.
The lad’s grandfather had lived long enough to see Lady Gennalla to safety before his heart gave out. Now the boy was all alone in the world, and eager to prove himself. After the things he’d seen during the spar attack, Fyn had expected the lad to balk but if he was afraid, he hid it well.
Fyn hoped he hid his own fear. He knew what they were up against. Spar warriors were a tough breed, and the warlord had to be even tougher to keep his men in line.
‘When they attacked, we fought to hold them off so everyone could board the yacht,’ Garyth whispered. ‘Fought to hold them off while we scuttled the fishing fleet.’
He gestured to the masts protruding drunkenly from the water. Unfortunately for Fyn’s plans, it was a cloudless night and the stars were bright enough to cast shadows. He had to trust to Garyth’s ability to get them close to the estate’s great house unseen, just as he had to trust to his knowledge of spar warriors and hope Cortigern’s men would still be in a drunken stupor.
In another day or so the warlord would rouse his warriors and do one of two things. They would attack the next village along the shore of the Landlocked Sea, where they would find enough boats to attack Port Mero, or they would pack up and go home.
At least Isolt was safe on the royal barge.
When she’d bid them good luck, she’d been dry-eyed... hard-eyed. If she feared for Fyn, she did not show it. If she loved him, even a fraction as much as he loved her, she had never shown it. Fyn told himself he was grateful for that.
‘Over here.’ Garyth led Fyn across to a low retaining wall.
Benetir Estate’s great house stood on a rise. Fyn glanced up the long straight road, cut into a succession of terraces. The road was bordered on each side by tall thin trees, dark against the stars.
Fyn checked behind him. Captain Aeran led the city-watch and the merchants’ men. They poured off the wharf and ran to join Fyn, crouching in the shadow of the retaining wall. The nobles ran the other way, to the far side of the road, and crouched behind the opposite wall.
Fyn had done the best he could with his divided men. Elrhodoc and the queen’s guards were happy to fight alongside Wytharon and Travany. While Garyth led Fyn and the city-watch around the back to the kitchen entrance, the nobles would wait at the front of the great house. Then Garyth would slip through to open the doors and let them in. If Fyn’s guess was correct, Cortigern’s warriors would be sleeping on the floor of the great hall. Both of Fyn’s forces would attack before the spar warriors found their weapons or their breeches. His men disarmed, Cortigern should be ready to listen to reason.
Fyn and Garyth made their way up the terraces, climbing the shallow steps.
They waited in the shadow of the very last wall for Captain Aeran and his men to catch up. Fyn could see the nobles moving into position on the other side of the road.
Peering over the lip of the last retaining wall, Fyn spotted a raised dais before the great house. Starlight revealed shattered statues of once-proud Affinity beasts. Some had been decapitated, while others had suffered broken wings and missing tails.
‘Barbarians!’ Fyn shook his head in disgust.
‘What, the statues? That’s the old lord’s folly.’ Garyth grinned, teeth flashing white. He saw Fyn didn’t understand. ‘His lordship tried to buy statues from Ruin Isle, but King Rolen wouldn’t sell, so he smuggled out drawings and had a stone-mason recreate them, complete with missing horns an’ wings.’ The lad shook his head. ‘Everyone thought he was mad. But then he held his son’s wedding in the ruins and it became all the rage.’
‘Everyone’s in position,’ Captain Aeran reported.
Fyn nodded to Garyth and the lad took off.
Back when the Merofynians had attacked at Narrowneck, there had been no time for Fyn to prepare. It had been a mad scramble. This time he was leading the attack, but he still felt unready as he followed Garyth along the side of the great house, past a verandah with many glass-panelled doors. This place was not built for defence.
They passed through the herb garden and climbed the kitchen steps. Inside, they found a lad of about ten scrubbing a big table by the light of a single lamp. He looked up, startled.
Garyth lifted his finger to his lips. ‘Where’s Cortigern, Lynos?’
‘In his lordship’s chamber. He took the Lady Sefarra and locked her in there last night. The screams...’ The boy shuddered.
Fyn put a hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s all right. We’re here now. Where are the other spar warriors?’
‘Sleepin’ off their wine in the great hall.’
Fyn hid his relief. ‘Lynos, can you lead my men to the great hall, then open the doors without waking Cortigern’s men?’
The boy nodded.
Fyn felt a moment’s compunction. If Lynos misjudged, he would be killed. But Fyn needed to get to Cortigern before the alarm was given. If the warlord felt vindictive, he’d put Sefarra to the sword. He turned to Captain Aeran. ‘I’m going—’
‘—after the girl. May Mulcibar guide your blade.’
Fyn nodded. It still seemed strange to associate the god of summer with war. His heart raced as Garyth led him up the servant’s stairs and into the corridor that led to the family’s bedchambers. If fighting started before he could reach Cortigern...
‘Here.’ Garyth stopped near a pair of tall doors.
‘No need to be heroes. We’ll try to get her out without waking Cortigern,’ Fyn whispered. ‘Then I want you to take her back to the wharf and signal the ship. The queen will send a boat for you. If you can’t get her down to the wharf, the pair of you are to hide somewhere safe. Understood?’
The lad nodded, but fingered a borrowed hunting knife. Fyn hoped Garyth wouldn’t have cause to use it.
Fyn drew his sword, then peered into the chamber.
It was lit by a single, smoking lamp. The girl was blocked from view beneath Cortigern’s massive shoulders and back.
Fyn slipped into the room. Cortigern’s weapons lay on a bedside chest, almost within reach. Creeping up behind the grunting warlord, he struck the back of his head with the hilt of his sword.
Cortigern collapsed, pinning the girl beneath him. Sefarra blinked and tried to scramble out from under him, but Cortigern was too heavy. Fyn went to help her.
‘Step back,’ someone warned, in thickly-accented Merofynian.
Fyn turned to find a second warrior had stepped naked from the bathing chamber. He held Garyth by the throat.
GARZIK WOKE TO find Olbin crouched over him. The Utlander’s eager expression made Garzik’s heart sink. Now that he was a free man, he thought he’d be safe from this kind of unwanted attention.
Resentment burned in Garzik as Olbin pulled him to his feet and led him past sleeping Utlanders. Some lay in each other’s arms, ship-lovers, yet on land they had wives or girlfriends. Ship-lovers... Was this what the big Utlander offered? How could he say no, when he needed Olbin’s protection from Jost?
When the Utlander led him towards the reardeck stairs, Garzik was so relieved his knees shook. The helmsman grinned as if they shared a secret. Curious, Garzik joined Olbin at the stern rail. It was a calm night, and there was hardly a wave to disturb the star-silvered sea.
Olbin slung an arm around Garzik’s shoulder and pointed to a luminescent patch behind the ship. ‘There. See it?’
‘I do,’ Garzik whispered. ‘But what is it?’
‘You haven’t read of this in your books?’ Olbin teased with just a hint of resentment. ‘It’s a shade-ray. A big one.’
‘You mean a manta ray.’
Olbin shook his head. ‘Shade-rays house the souls of Utland warriors who die in battle at sea. They come to see us on still nights like this, drawn back to their people but never able to set foot on land again.’
Rusan joined them with his p
ipes. He played a sweetly haunting tune, bringing tears to Garzik’s eyes. Olbin wept unashamedly.
Garzik marvelled as the Affinity beast drew closer. ‘It’s huge. Why, it must be wider than the ship is long.’
Olbin nodded.
Garzik grasped the ship’s rail and the creature came closer still. It swam just under the surface, keeping pace with the vessel. He could just make its undulating wings. Along the edge of each wing were luminescent patterns like delicate lace, and more patterns ran down the centre of the creature’s back.
Rusan lowered the pipes, whispering a name Garzik didn’t catch. The captain gestured to the shade-ray. ‘We know the shade-rays by their markings. This is the founder of our settlement. He’s come to wish us luck.’
Garzik was not so sure, but he respected their beliefs. ‘He honours you.’
Olbin nodded, wiping tears from his cheeks. ‘We knew you’d want to see this.’
Chapter Eighteen
PIRO WALKED THROUGH a Rolencian festival surrounded by music and laughter. Banners fluttered in the sunshine. Carts trundled past laden with food and singing workers. To each side of her there were tents, and in front of the tents stood men-at-arms wearing their best ceremonial armour. They joked as they shared wine skins. She was home at last and everyone was happy.
Yet she felt an underlying dread.
At the top of the rise, two grand tents faced each other. A Rolencian banner hung before the tent on her right, the red foenix’s feathers picked out in gold thread. On her left was another Rolencian banner. Sun glinted on gold thread, blurring her vision. When it cleared, the banner had changed colour, turning blue...
An Affinity vision.
Was this the day Byren would marry his Merofynian bride?
Or was she seeing her mother’s wedding to her father? But that had taken place in the town square.
The blue banner stirred in the breeze, revealing leaping dalfino and an inverted crown that denoted a royal bastard—Cobalt’s banner.
Fear solidified inside her as Cobalt stepped out of the tent on the left. He adjusted the empty sleeve of his fine satin coat.
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