King Breaker

by Rowena Cory Daniells

  ‘In another life.’ Orrade gestured around them. ‘You stand at a crossroads. You could slip away with Florin, find a quiet valley, build a cabin and build a life together. You could have her love, Byren, and be richer than any king.’

  ‘If she’d have me...’ He stared out at Rolencia, and for one moment he let himself imagine what it would be like. There was nothing he wanted more, but... ‘It would mean leaving Cobalt on my father’s throne. After all he’s done to my family.’

  ‘Yes, you’d have to walk away from that.’

  ‘Could you walk away from Dovecote, knowing a Merofynian sits in your father’s great hall and mistreats your people?’

  Orrade met his eyes, the planes of his sharp face softened by starlight. ‘I don’t have a reason to walk away, so I find it easy to do my duty.’

  Byren grimaced. ‘Whether it’s easy or not, I must do my duty.’

  ‘You’ll place ambition ahead of love?’

  Was that censure in Orrade’s voice? Resentment burned Byren. ‘I never wanted to be the king’s heir.’

  ‘Would you have married Florin if Lence still lived?’

  ‘In a heartbeat.’

  ‘Even if it meant defying your parents?’

  ‘They’d be relieved I wasn’t...’ He’d been about to say a lover of men. ‘But Lence is dead and I know my duty.’

  ‘And once you’re king, you can set her up as your mistress or marry her off to young Chandler.’ Orrade’s voice was thin and bitter. ‘It’s not like he’d say no, if you wanted to bed his wife.’

  Byren’s first instinct was to grab Orrade by the throat and throttle him, but... he’d been tactless.

  Before he could apologise, Orrade shrugged. ‘I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I know you won’t be that kind of king.’

  Shame held Byren silent.

  ‘Dinner’s ready. Are you coming?’

  ‘In a moment.’

  ‘Very well.’ Orrade summoned a grin. ‘But it’ll serve you right if Florin and I eat the lot.’

  Byren met his eyes. ‘You’ve been a good friend to me. You deserve to be happy.’

  ‘We don’t always get what we deserve.’

  ‘Cobalt will. I’ll make sure of that.’

  ‘I hope it’s worth it.’ Orrade went back the way he’d come.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  FLORIN’S STOMACH RUMBLED as she stirred the dinner. What was taking them so long? She heard a noise and looked up, expecting to see Orrade and Byren, but the path was empty. Probably just some forest creature.

  What if Orrie said something to Byren? She should take her travelling kit and go right now. The secret pass wasn’t far from here. She should go while she still had her dignity. Then Byren wouldn’t feel obliged to escort her all the way to Foenix Spar. The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea. No excruciating goodbyes. No more reminders that she was the gauche mountain girl who’d thrown herself at her king.

  A pebble clicked behind her; she turned to find two men about to grab her. They tackled her to the ground. Merofynians, by their muffled curses. She writhed and twisted, trying to break free. Uppermost in her mind was the danger to Byren. Just as she drew breath to shout a warning, a hand clamped over her mouth.

  Boots appeared in front of her. ‘Let’s see who this is.’

  Her two captors hauled her upright. Panting with fury, she faced a Merofynian veteran. He was shorter than her and missing two of his front teeth.

  ‘That’s not Byren’s molly-boy.’ He spat.

  ‘Yer sure? ’ere, lemme check.’ One of her captors reached down between her legs. ‘Nah, nothin’ but—’

  She bucked with such fury her arm slipped his grip and she elbowed him in the face. Before she could free her other arm, a third man grabbed her.

  The injured man staggered back, spitting blood. His companions laughed.

  Enraged, he lunged for her.

  The veteran stepped between them. ‘You’ll get yer chance, Teg. Tell yer what, yer can have her but only after we’ve captured Byren. Now shut up an’ get into position.’

  ‘Shouldn’t we send for the rest of the patrol?’ one of them asked.

  ‘Yer wanna split the reward?’ Teg snorted.

  The others looked to the veteran.

  ‘Teg’s right. Split between eleven, we’ll be rich. Split between forty, we’re drunk and back at work with a hangover tomorrow. Now go.’

  They melted into the trees. Florin despaired. How would Byren escape?

  ‘Over there.’ The veteran jerked his head, and Florin’s captors dragged her up against the rock wall, under the overhang.

  There was a scuffle in the bushes along the path and a grunt of pain, followed by a curse and another grunt. Two of the Merofynians dragged Orrade into the light of the camp fire. He shook his head, blinking blood from his eyes.

  ‘It’s the molly-boy,’ Teg announced.

  The other one kicked Orrade’s knees out from under him and caught him by the hair as he fell to the ground. Pulling Orrade’s head up to reveal his throat, Teg drew his knife and looked to the veteran. ‘Kill ’im?’

  ‘Did I tell yer to kill him?’ The veteran sounded exasperated. ‘He’s the kin-slayer’s favourite. He’s useful.’

  ‘If Byren killed ’is own sister, why would ’e care what happened to ’is molly-boy?’

  Florin bit her captor’s hand, gulped a deep breath and screamed, ‘Run, Byren. Mero—’

  A punch to the jaw cut her off. The world swung around her and she didn’t know which way was up. The eerie howl of an ulfr cut the night. Even through her confusion, Florin could sense the Merofynians’ fear.

  The veteran caught Florin’s hair, pulling her face close to his. ‘If I hadn’t promised yer to Teg, I’d cut yer throat for that.’ He backed off. ‘Bring her down here, the molly-boy too.’

  ‘How’re we gonna catch the kin-slayer now?’ someone muttered as they all gathered in the centre of the gully, churning up the mulch and leaf litter. ‘They say ’e’s a giant of man. They say ’e killed a leogryf single-handed. Took down a wyvern with only ’is hunting kni—’

  Thwack. The veteran clipped him over the head. ‘He’s just one man. There’s eleven of us, an’ we’ve got his friends. He’ll come quietly, if he knows what’s good for him.’

  They formed a circle around Florin and Orrade. Her jaw throbbed and she tasted blood where her lip had torn on her teeth. She prodded her teeth. None were loose, thank Halcyon. Chill damp seeped up through her boots as their combined weight made them sink into the boggy soil.

  ‘Tie them two together,’ the veteran ordered.

  Florin was shoved against Orrade’s back and Teg bound their arms to their sides, securing them from shoulder to waist. He didn’t miss the chance to fondle Florin’s breasts. She turned her face away, prompting him to pinch her nipple. The pain made her jerk and Orrade had to adjust his weight. Their boots squelched in the sticky bog, sinking deeper.

  Teg chuckled as he finished tying their restraints. Leaning in close to Florin, he ran his hand up between her legs, while rubbing himself on her thigh.

  ‘Feel this. ’ard as a rock, I am. I’m gonna teach yer the difference between...’

  The veteran caught him by the ear and dragged him over to stand in the outer circle. The Merofynians had formed a circle facing outward. Florin felt Orrade adjust his feet and had to adjust hers. The thick, sticky bog clung to her boots so firmly she could hardly lift her leg.

  ‘Byren Kin-slayer, we know yer out there!’ the veteran yelled. ‘Give yerself up before we cut yer molly-boy’s throat.’

  ‘Don’t do it,’ Orrade cried. ‘Leave—’

  His head snapped back. There was a clunk as his skull collided with Florin’s. Her teeth clicked down on her lip and blood filled her mouth. She would have staggered, but her feet were stuck in the bog.

  One of the Merofynians steadied her, even as he cursed the bog. ‘Almost lost me bloody boot.’

 
‘Shut up an’ watch the trees,’ the veteran snapped. He raised his voice. ‘Well, kin-slayer, what’ll it be?’

  Florin lifted her head. Beyond her captors’ shoulders, she saw the camp fire under the overhang. Its glow painted the rock orange. The stone overhang jutted out thick as the eaves of a thatched roof, and above that...

  Stood Byren with a huge Affinity beast at his side.

  BYREN HAD BEEN about to enter camp when he heard Florin’s cry. A gut-deep fear tore at him and he heard an ulfr’s haunting howl.

  His first instinct was to go to Florin, but he made himself retreat along the path and climb up the far side of the overhang. There he stretched out on the rock and edged forward on his belly until he could look down into the gully.

  Eleven Merofynians had captured Orrade and Florin. Fear for them chilled him and the ulfr howled, others joined him, howling in sympathy.

  Enraged by his impotence, Byren watched as one of the men bound Orrade and Florin, then groped his mountain girl. Byren wanted to tear his throat out. The urge was so powerful he clenched his teeth until his jaw ached.

  One of the Merofynians reached over and hauled the man away from Florin. Just as well. Byren was having trouble thinking clearly.

  Something nudged Byren’s left thigh and he glanced over his shoulder to find the ulfr pack leader creeping forward, belly pressed to the stone.

  As the ulfr joined him, Byren swung his arm over the beast’s neck. He could feel power radiating from the ulfr’s body. Grateful for the beast’s support, he buried his head in the ulfr’s neck. Felt the power of the creature and the welcome of the pack.

  ‘Byren Kin-slayer, we know yer out there!’ the Merofynian leader yelled. ‘Give yerself up before we cut yer molly-boy’s throat.’

  ‘Don’t do it,’ Orrade cried. ‘Leave—’

  One of them hit him and his head rocked back, slamming into Florin so that she swayed.

  A roaring filled Byren’s ears and he sprang to his feet with the ulfr at his side. From this vantage point, he saw dark shadows slinking into position in the trees. The Merofynians were surrounded. Byren could see the ulfrs’ eyes gleaming from the shadows.

  The man who’d pinched Florin’s breast pointed and cursed. He panicked and tried to sprint towards the safety of the fire, but his feet seemed trapped. He lurched, falling to his hands and knees. Before his companions could haul him upright, an ulfr dashed into the gully, tore out his throat, then retreated into the trees.

  For a heartbeat, the Merofynians stood stunned; then they swore and shouted, waving their weapons at the gleaming eyes watching them from the shadows under the trees.

  The Merofynians’ leader spotted Byren and pointed. He shouted something, but Byren couldn’t hear clearly. Everything seemed too loud, yet strangely distorted.

  As soon as the rest of the Merofynians saw Byren, they tried to run. Some lurched forward and fell to their hands and knees, others managed only one step then collapsed. Ulfrs attacked the instant their prey were vulnerable. The beasts dashed into the gully, tore out throats, then retreated before the men could respond. Soon the rich scent of blood filled the air as it soaked into the greedy earth.

  The pack leader howled in exultation and Byren shared the beast’s savage joy.

  WHILE THE MEROFYNIANS fell around them, Florin cooperated with Orrade, trying to work themselves free, but they’d both sunk calf-deep in the sticky bog. She caught a glimpse of gleaming ulfr eyes in the tree line and felt the instinctive fear of the hunted.

  Two paces from her, a man struggled to free his legs but an ulfr took him down, tearing out his throat and spraying them both with blood. Florin shivered.

  All around her, as the Merofynians cursed and struggled to escape the bog, silvery, sleek shadows darted in, avoided the trapped men’s wild strikes and ripped out throats. She saw two Merofynians die in as many heartbeats.

  Her gaze was drawn back to Byren. His hand rested on the head of the big ulfr at his side and the beast had its mouth open, almost as if it was laughing.

  Men screamed. The veteran yelled, ‘Hold your place, weapons up, present a united front.’

  But terror overcame training.

  Cursing, the veteran fought the bog and lurched over to Florin, catching her by the front of her jerkin.

  She’d almost worked her legs free and fell forward onto her knees. This pulled Orrade over so that he lay on her back struggling against their bonds. His weight pressed her down into the bog and her knees sank deeper. With her arms bound, she fought to keep her face out of the bog.

  ‘Call off your dogs, kin-slayer!’ the veteran yelled, and Florin felt Orrie go very still. ‘Call them off, or I’ll cut his throat.’

  Florin didn’t dare move.

  BYREN CURSED AS the Merofynian leader pulled Florin to her knees, grabbed Orrade by his hair and held a blade to his throat. A roaring filled Byren’s head and he leaped off the overhang.

  The man tried to bring his knife up, but he was too late. The force of Byren’s attack drove the Merofynian backwards, tearing his hand from Orrade’s head. Byren felt the man’s rib cage collapse as he hit boggy ground.

  For a heartbeat the Merofynian lay there looking up, mouth opened in a gasp, head buried cheek-deep in the bog. Then blood poured from his mouth.

  Byren struggled to his feet, fighting the sucking action of the bog. At least four men still struggled with the ulfrs. The rest were down and bleeding.

  Seeing this, Byren staggered over to Florin and Orrade. They lay on their sides and had sunk deeper into the mud as they struggled to keep their faces above the bog. Byren knelt beside Florin and reached for the rope binding them. Her mouth was bloodied and swollen, eyes wide and frightened.

  Seeing something behind him, she sucked in a breath and shouted a warning.

  He turned, blocking reflexively. A sword struck his knife, skittered down the blade, sprang off the tip and continued in a stroke which would have ended in his thigh had not an ulfr attacked at that instant.

  The beast leapt onto the man’s back, driving him past Byren, so that he fell across Florin and Orrade. There was a sickening crack as the ulfr caught the man’s neck between its jaws and snapped his spine.

  Byren rolled the man off Florin and Orrade, to reveal only upper arms and shoulders protruding from the bog. Grabbing their arms, he hauled with all his strength. The bog resisted.

  Desperate, muscles straining, joints popping, Byren pulled them both out. Florin and Orrade sprang free of the mud with such momentum that Byren tumbled backwards, landing on someone’s legs.

  The legs began to slide out from under him.

  He turned, ready to defend himself, but found an ulfr dragging a man’s body away. All around him the Affinity beasts were dragging the dead into the trees.

  Something shifted and sounds returned to normal. He could hear Orrade and Florin coughing. Blood-soaked mud covered their faces, clung to their hair and slid down their torsos. Fighting the sucking action of the bog, Byren crawled over and cut the rope that bound them.

  ‘Freak!’ A Merofynian waved his sword from the tree line. ‘You’re as much a beast as your namesake, King Byren the Fourth.’

  Lurching to his feet, Byren staggered, taking one awkward step, then another. He was almost out of the bog when the man’s companion grabbed him and the pair ran off.

  Byren surveyed the gully. An ulfr dragged the last body out of sight. The remainder seemed to be only body parts, or bodies so deeply embedded in the mud only an arm or leg remained. And these sank from sight even as he watched.

  From the shadows beneath the trees, he heard the crunching of bones. As soon as Orrade and Florin were on their feet, he dropped to his knees, retching. When he could throw up no more, he lifted his head, to find Florin offering him a wine skin.

  He swilled a mouthful around, spat it out, then took a big gulp and looked up. She’d heard what those men said. Did she despise him?

  But her expression was impossible to interpret t
hrough the mud caked on her face ‘Are you all right, Byren?’

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘I’m alive.’ She grinned, teeth very white.

  They both staggered over to the camp. It was good to get firm ground under his feet.

  Orrade was already kneeling by the fire, building it up.

  ‘What about you?’ Byren asked. ‘Are you all right?’

  Orrade poked the meat. ‘Dinner’s burned. Sorry.’

  Byren gave a bark of laughter, then sat down abruptly as his knees gave way. ‘I couldn’t eat anyway.’

  ‘Will the ulfrs deal with the men that got away?’ Florin asked.

  Byren was amazed that she could be so matter of fact. He considered her question, then shook his head. ‘The pack’s had more than enough to eat.’

  ‘Then we can’t stay here. Those Merofynians were part of a larger patrol.’ She gestured to the mountains. ‘We should make for the secret pass. Put as much distance between them and us as we can.’

  ‘Burnt dinner and now we have to walk all night.’ Orrade gathered his travelling pack. ‘I guess that means a hot bath is out of the question.’

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  ‘FYN, DID YOU see Loyalty?’ Isolt called from the landing halfway up the stairs. The wyvern swooped in to perch on the balustrade with the glowing platter.

  Fyn nodded and waved then turned to Dunstany. ‘How did you make the metal glow? Is it an Affinity trick?’

  ‘Why use Affinity when ingenuity will do? I crushed hercinia feathers to make glowing paint,’ Dunstany said. They stood on the terrace not far from the stairs. ‘Rhalwyn came to me because the warmer weather’s been making the Affinity beasts restless. Now they can play at night.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Fyn said. He returned to his earlier point. ‘Yorale might be loyal, but I don’t like to see too much power concentrated in one man.’

  ‘It is unfortunate,’ Dunstany agreed. ‘For hundreds of years, the rivalry between Dunistir and Yoraltir Estates maintained the balance of power, but my grandfather was cursed by bad luck. His three sons died without heirs and the distant cousin who stands to inherit is a fool. My masquerade as Lord Dunstany can only last a few more years, before people become suspicious. Duncaer will inherit and ruin the estate with his gambling. When I think of my people being turned out of their homes...’ His voice grew thick with emotion. ‘And there’s nothing I can do to prevent it.’