Siordun turned to Piro. ‘Now that Duncaer has inherited the title, Isolt will be without Lord Dunstany’s support. I have no excuse to advise her.’
‘They need more queen’s guards,’ Florin said. ‘No one looks at the honour guards, but we go everywhere and hear everything. You could advise her—’
‘Can you see me swinging a sword?’ Siordun asked. He looked like the scholar he was.
Piro grinned. ‘The less imposing you are, the less you’ll be noticed.’
That made him smile, but he shook his head. ‘Besides, my Affinity is too strong. It has to be part of my disguise.’
‘In that case, we need a war-table council,’ Piro said. ‘And you need to tell Byren and Orrade the truth about Dunstany.’
FYN TOLD HIMSELF it was only right that Byren should lead Isolt out for the first dance at their first official celebration after defeating the spar invasion.
Between the merchant margraves and their wives, the lords and their ladies, and the servants and musicians, the palace ballroom was packed. Everyone watched as Byren took Isolt’s hand and the musicians struck up a Merofynian dance. It was more sedate than the lively dances of King Rolen’s court. Just as well their mother had taught them courtly Merofynian manners.
Byren’s hands closed on Isolt’s small waist and he lifted her high in the air. Her gown flared out, revealing her silk stockinged calves and the back of her knees.
Fyn stiffened. He’d seen more bare skin when Isolt was frolicking in the grotto with Loyalty, but that wasn’t the point.
Finally the dance ended and other couples filed out onto the dance floor to form two long lines. Piro appeared at Fyn’s elbow and tugged on his arm. ‘Come dance with me.’
He couldn’t. He was watching to see if Byren would take Isolt back to her seat, and he did.
‘Fyn?’ Piro pressed.
He left his spot by the wall. ‘I’m not dancing.’ No, he wanted to sit with Isolt. That would be enough.
‘Then I’ll ask Orrie.’
In the rush of returning to court, he hadn’t had a chance to tell Orrade that his younger brother still lived. But there was the question of Garzik’s loyalty, and he did not want Orrade to be ashamed of his brother. Perhaps it was best not to mention Garzik.
Piro darted over to Orrade, who was leaning against a column, chatting to Florin. The mountain girl made no concession to her gender. She wore the same breeches, fine vest and fine calf length coat as Byren, who paused to chat to them. Orrade laughed and Florin smiled stiffly.
When Piro reached them, Orrade turned her down, so she cajoled Byren into partnering her for a dance.
This left Isolt without a partner.
But Neiron reached Isolt before Fyn did and asked her to dance. She glanced around and Fyn tried to catch her eye, but the abbot came between them.
Looking very pleased with himself, Neiron led Isolt out onto the dance floor. Again, Fyn felt the urge to warn Byren, but his brother had been so dismissive of Neiron. Fyn’s cheeks burned with the memory.
He leant against the wall and folded his arms.
‘I haven’t seen a grand ball like this since Isolt’s father first came to power,’ Murheg said. His hair had been washed and perfumed and lay loose on his shoulders, threaded with onyxes. Yet his appearance was restrained compared with most of the men.
Fyn watched Isolt. The dancers took their positions, moving to the music like a flock of birds wheeling on high.
‘I know he’s your brother,’ Murheg said softly, ‘but it’s disgusting the way Byren flaunts his lover in front of the queen.’
Fyn had no idea what the abbot was talking about. ‘What lover?’
‘The mountain girl.’ Murheg gestured to Orrade and Florin.
‘Florin is Orrade’s lover.’
‘I heard he was a lover of men.’
Fyn laughed. ‘There’s nothing to that rumour. If you could have heard my brothers and Orrie boasting about the girls they’ve bedded… Admittedly that was back when they were sixteen, but I also travelled with Byren’s army and it was quite clear that Florin was Orrade’s lover.’
Murheg said nothing. The dancers moved in intricate patterns, weaving in and out, taking new partners. Fyn grinned grimly. He liked this dance. Neiron didn’t get to put his hands on Isolt’s waist. In fact, he hardly got to speak with her as they passed each other yet again and took a new partner. Now it was Yorale’s heir, Yoromer, who partnered her.
Murheg leant closer to Fyn. ‘It occurs to me that the safest way to hide your lover is in plain sight. After all, if everyone thinks she is your best friend’s—’
‘Byren’s not like that.’ Fyn spoke with conviction.
‘Perhaps he was not like that once, but power changes people.’
As much as Fyn hated to admit this, it was true.
For the rest of the evening, he watched the three of them. Orrade and Florin were very comfortable with each other. She made him laugh, something that was rare for Orrie. By contrast, Byren and Florin hardly spoke, and when they did, they were distantly polite. In the past they’d been close enough to tease each other. Either they’d had a terrible fight, or they were lovers and were trying to disguise the fact.
Then it occurred to Fyn that Florin was attending the ball as one of Byren’s honour guard. Like Chandler, she was probably armed and on watch for threat. This explained her distance from Byren, and her ease with Orrade, who had spoken to all the honour guards.
By the time the ball was over, Fyn had a pounding headache and did not know what to think. He’d barely made it back to his room when there was a knock at the door. Expecting it to be Camoric, he told them to enter.
Piro poked her head around the door, catching him in nothing but his breeches.
He reached for a shirt. ‘Piro...’
‘I’m your sister.’ She rolled her eyes, then beckoned. ‘Come with me. I have to show you something.’
‘Surely it can wait?’ But he reached for his shirt.
Out in the hall, she led him to one of the palace’s towers, built nearly six hundred years ago. It was only used for storage now, and several dust-laden chests were piled up against the wall on the ground floor beside the stairs.
‘Race you up!’ Piro took off as if they were children.
He could not resist. They reached the top of the tower laughing.
Siordun swung the door for them.
Right away, Fyn saw the repercussions of Lord Dunstany’s death. ‘Are you going to take on a new Merofynian identity?’
‘Probably, but not until I find the right one.’ Siordun stepped aside, then, to reveal Gwalt.
Fyn greeted the steward warmly. ‘Of course, Duncaer took over Dunstany’s townhouse. Are the pica birds—’
‘Safe? Yes.’ Gwalt gestured to an adjacent chamber. ‘Like me, they have a new home.’
‘Now you don’t have to ride to Dunstany’s townhouse to send messages to the mage,’ Piro told Fyn, very pleased with herself. ‘The house-keep from Dunistir Estate is also coming to work in the palace. She’ll report to Gwalt and he’ll keep you informed.’
Fyn turned to Siordun. ‘What about you? We need you more than ever now that Dunstany can’t sit on the lord’s council and advise the queen.’
‘That’s why I have to come up with an identity that lets me stay close to the queen, yet spend extended periods away from her. It won’t be easy.’
‘We’ll hold a war-table council tomorrow, just the family,’ Piro said. ‘We need to tell Byren and Orrade the truth about Siordun and Dunstany.’
‘Good. I don’t like keeping things from Byren,’ Fyn said. But if Murheg was right, Byren was hiding his lover in plain sight. The insult to Isolt made Fyn burn.
AS BYREN JOINED his betrothed and Fyn on the terrace for breakfast, he tried to think of something interesting to say to the queen. He’d left his honour guards and Orrade partaking of a noisy breakfast of ale, cold meat and cheese in the guard hall. One look at the royal
table told Byren he would be sending to the kitchen for something more substantial by mid-morning. Who could live on delicate pastries, slivers of fruit and whipped cream?
Queen Isolt, apparently. He watched as she dipped a hot-house strawberry in cream and nibbled on it.
‘I never really had a chance to meet your wyvern,’ Byren said. ‘What was her name?’
‘Loyalty.’
‘Good name.’
Isolt nodded and plucked the stem from another strawberry.
‘I hear she lives with Piro’s foenix in the palace grounds.’
Isolt nodded again. She was paying more attention to the strawberry than him. Was she going to eat it or not?
‘Both Affinity beasts sleep in the grotto built by the Mad Boy King,’ Fyn supplied.
‘The Mad Boy King from mother’s stories?’ Byren asked, chuckling. ‘I always thought she was making him up.’
‘Not a bit. In fact...’ Fyn began, then seemed to think better of what he’d been going to say.
Byren turned to the queen. ‘Will you be visiting your pet today? We could—’
‘She’s not my pet,’ Isolt said primly. ‘She’s an intelligent creature with free will.’ And she left the strawberry on her plate as she came to her feet. ‘Please excuse me, I have work to do.’
Byren wondered how he had offended her.
‘There you are, Byren,’ Piro said, dropping into her seat with more enthusiasm than grace. She took several pastries and even more fruit, piling everything high on her plate. ‘I wanted to see you...’
At least with Piro you knew where you stood. She could certainly eat. Before Florin took sick, she used to tuck into her food like this. Where was his mountain girl? Probably with his honour guards. No melon pieces in mint sauce for her. She’d...
‘...Byren?’ Piro asked, following up with a mock punch. ‘You weren’t even listening. I said we need to hold a family council in the war-table chamber.’
He nodded. ‘I’ll let Orrie know.’
When they turned up at the war-table council, Agent Tyro was there and Piro had also brought Florin along. Byren couldn’t escape her. A moment later, Fyn walked in with Isolt.
‘Good, we’re all here.’ Piro gestured to the mage’s agent. ‘Siordun has something to tell you.’ Then before he could speak, she plunged on. ‘For the last seven years, ever since Lord Dunstany died, Siordun has been impersonating him, so that he could spy for the mage and preserve the peace between Rolencia and Merofynia.’
‘And look how well that worked out,’ Orrade muttered.
‘You knew, Orrie?’ Byren asked.
‘No.’
‘Very few knew, and those who did, protected me,’ Siordun said. ‘Fyn, Isolt and Piro—’
‘And Florin found out yesterday, when I went to warn Siordun not to come to the palace in his Dunstany disguise,’ Piro said. ‘Please don’t be angry, Byren. Siordun has been trying to preserve the peace and help you win back Rolencia.’
HOW MANY KINGDOMS does one man need? Fyn thought as he stood across the table from Byren. If his brother reclaimed Rolencia, why should he have Merofynia and Isolt as well?
Fyn was not proud of himself for harbouring these thoughts. But if Florin wasn’t Byren’s lover, then why was she at their family council? What did the daughter of a tradepost keeper know of strategy and tactics?
Piro’s voice pierced Fyn’s distraction.
‘...I don’t see how anyone could believe Byren would kill me, rather than see me married to Cobalt.’
‘That’s because you would never do such a thing,’ Orrade said. ‘But there are people who would, so they have no trouble believing it of others.’
‘Cobalt would.’ Florin shuddered. ‘He smiled as he killed Varuska’s sister just so he could bury her in Piro’s place.’
‘That’s it!’ Piro looked around the table. ‘He’s buried me twice. If I go back to Rolencia and confront Cobalt—’
‘No, Piro,’ Fyn protested, and he wasn’t the only one.
‘Hear me out. On midsummer’s day, Goddess Halcyon hands over the kingdom to Sylion, god of winter.’
‘We have something similar here,’ Isolt said. ‘It’s a grand ceremony, everyone attends.’
Piro nodded. ‘I’ll go back to Ostron Isle and collect Varuska to show how Cobalt fooled everyone. We’ll confront him on midsummer’s day, in front of all the nobles and merchants.’
‘How would you get into the ceremony?’ Orrade asked.
‘The abbess of Sylion Abbey will help us. She hates Cobalt.’
Fyn didn’t like it. ‘This means sending Piro and the other poor girl into danger.’
‘I could go with Piro,’ Florin offered. ‘Tell how I saw Cobalt—’
‘No.’ Byren cut her off. ‘There’s no need for you to go. Piro and Varuska will be enough.’
Fyn glanced to Byren. Was he trying to keep Florin safe?
‘Right,’ Piro said. ‘Siordun can send a message to his agent in Rolencia, so she can get word to the abbess. Maybe after we unmask Cobalt, Byren won’t need to lead his army into battle.’
‘Eh, you’re such a dreamer, Piro,’ Byren said fondly. ‘Men will fight to hold onto power whether they are in the right or not. And even if every Rolencian turned their back on Cobalt, the five Merofynian captains Cobalt ennobled can never return to their homeland. No, there’ll be fighting.’ He rubbed his jaw. ‘I need to arm my men, find ships to transport them and be in position by midsummer’s day.’
‘You heard Florin.’ Frustration drove Fyn to speak up. ‘Cobalt thought nothing of murdering a girl to further his plans. Even with the abbess’s support, we can’t send Piro into danger.’
‘Fyn’s right,’ Isolt said. ‘There must be another way.’
‘Piro is safest in plain sight,’ Siordun said. ‘Cobalt can’t lay a finger on her if everyone knows she lives. And she won’t be going into danger alone. I’ll go with her. Byren, you should take Piro’s foenix with you to validate your rule.’
‘Then it’s settled.’ Piro sounded satisfied. ‘We sail with the evening tide.’
‘We’ll leave the Wyvern’s Whelp for Byren, so the mage can contact him,’ Siordun said.
The council ended with Fyn still not sure if Byren was flaunting his lover under his betrothed’s roof. One part of him refused to believe it. Another part feared Murheg was right.
Seeing Piro with Florin reminded him that his sister had spent half the summer on Dunstany’s estate with the mountain girl. She would know if Florin was Orrade’s lover. As everyone left, Fyn caught Piro’s eye.
After they’d all gone she turned to him. ‘What is it, Fyn?’
He hesitated, afraid he was right and Byren was no longer the man he used to be.
‘I’ll be all right. I’ve learnt to be careful.’ Piro assured him. ‘I’m no longer the silly girl who hid on Ruin Isle to help her brother find Halcyon’s Fate.’
‘That silly girl was very brave.’ Fyn reached out and pulled her close for a hug, then released her. ‘Far too brave. I want you to take Florin. She can wear a nun’s...’
But Piro was already shaking her head.
‘Why not? Will Orrade refuse to be parted from her?’
Piro laughed. ‘They’re not lovers.’
So the abbot had been right. Fury flashed through Fyn. How could Byren insult Isolt like this?
‘Fyn?’
Somehow, he summoned a smile. ‘Promise me you won’t do anything brave.’
She laughed and hugged him.
Chapter Sixty-Two
FLORIN MISSED PIRO. It was five days since she’d set sail, five days of watching Byren escort Isolt to events, dance with her and sit with her at the feasting table.
To escape this, Florin had volunteered to help Orrade organise fitting out Byren’s army. Chandler and the men had reached the far shore of the Grand Canal, and the army was fast becoming a nuisance as the men drank and ate their way through every inn and tavern on the east bank.<
br />
When Captain Aeran delivered news of another brawl in the streets, Orrade handed over a bag of coins. ‘Recompense shop-keepers and tell Chandler to drill the men until they are so tired they’ll have no energy to brawl at night.’
After the captain of the city-watch walked out, Orrade turned to Florin. ‘Just as well we’re sailing this afternoon.’
She couldn’t have agreed more. But before they sailed, she needed to see the Power-worker. He should have the right herb by now. Bitter-tears... even the name held foreboding.
It made Florin uneasy, and the feeling had been growing ever since she’d decided on this course of action.
Orrade bent over the papers on his desk.
‘I’m not feeling well.’ Florin felt terrible. ‘Can I go?’
Orrade put his nib aside. ‘You’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you, Mountain Girl?’
‘Of course,’ she lied.
The look he gave her was far too perceptive, but he waved her off. ‘Go on. I guess you might as well rest now, since you’ll be throwing up the whole time we’re at sea.’
Relieved, she thanked him and slipped away.
Finding enough gold to pay the Power-worker had seemed a huge hurdle but, as it turned out, Piro had forgotten to pack the amfina statuette.
The walk down to the Power-worker’s dingy establishment was over far too quickly. Florin ducked into the lane and went up the three flights of stairs. She found the Power-worker grinding something with a mortar and pestle. Today the amfina slept in a basket on the counter next to him, and a boy of eleven stood at the Power-worker’s elbow, watching him work.
Florin blinked as her eyes adjusted to the gloom. ‘I’m here about—’
‘I know why you’re here,’ he said, and he nudged the boy. ‘Go fetch the amfina’s food.’
The boy darted through the curtained doorway behind the counter. The Power-worker tipped some fine powder onto the scales and checked the weight before pouring the powder onto a piece of paper, folding it over to form a packet.
‘That’s the herb for my mistress?’ Florin asked.
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