‘It is. You have the gold?’
Florin’s hand went to her pocket.
The curtain parted, but the lad did not return. Instead two men-at-arms stepped into the room.
Florin took a step back. One part of her wanted to flee, but she needed the herb. The men-at-arms came around the counter. As she backed up towards the door, two Merofynian lords entered. One was grey-haired and looked like someone’s kindly uncle, the other was Neiron.
She turned to run.
‘Stop her!’ Neiron barked.
The men-at-arms caught her and pinned her arms behind her back.
‘This is her?’ The softly spoken, grey-haired lord looked Florin up and down.
Neiron’s top lip lifted. ‘She’s not the queen’s servant.’
‘I still want my gold,’ the Power-worker insisted.
The grey-haired lord nodded to his men. One of them drew Florin’s arm further up her back until it felt like her shoulder would pop out of its socket. ‘Who are you buying bitter-tears for?’
Florin shook her head. The man jerked on her arm, making her gasp.
The kindly-looking lord sighed. ‘You’re going to tell me, lass, so why not save yourself the pain?’
She turned her face away, only to see Neiron’s grin.
The grey-haired lord gestured to him. ‘Search her.’
Neiron’s hands were far too free. He didn’t need to part her shirt to reveal her breast band, didn’t need to loosen it and thrust his hands inside to see if she’d hidden anything, not when he’d already taken the golden ornament.
‘Just this.’ He tossed the amfina statue over.
The grey-haired lord inspected it. ‘An expensive little trinket. Not the kind of thing a Rolencian peasant would own. Could you be buying bitter-tears for the queen, after all?’ He watched her closely. ‘Has she been welcoming the younger brother into her bed, while betrothed to the elder?’
‘The little bitch,’ Neiron muttered.
As much as she resented the queen, Florin could not let her take the blame.
‘It’s for me,’ she blurted.
‘Lies!’ Neiron snorted.
She glared at him, torn between outrage and shame.
‘How disappointing.’ The grey-haired lord stepped back. ‘It seems she’s telling the truth.’ He gestured to the men-at-arms, who let her go.
Neiron turned on his companion. ‘You believe her, Yorale?’
‘The girl couldn’t lie to save herself.’ He dropped a small bag of coins on the counter.
‘Why are you paying the Power-worker?’ Neiron asked. ‘His information was useless.’
‘This time.’
Florin massaged her shoulder, eyeing Lord Yorale, who still had her ornament.
He noticed the direction of her gaze and tossed the statuette to the Power-worker. ‘Give her the bitter-tears.’
‘Why?’ Neiron demanded. ‘If you ask me, any woman who’s stupid enough to open her legs deserves what she gets.’
Yorale sighed. ‘This sorry excuse for a woman serves on Byren’s honour guard. She could be useful, Neiron.’
The Power-worker folded the instructions around the powder packet and gave it to Yorale.
He held it in front of Florin. ‘With what I know, I could ruin you, girl. No more honoured place in the king’s guard. You’d end up on the street, sucking cock for your supper. But I am not so cruel.’ Yorale tucked the herb packet and instructions into Florin’s breast band. ‘There. Take your bitter-tears and remember what you owe me. Be very sure that one day I will call on this debt. Do you understand?’
She nodded, hating him with all her heart.
Neiron smirked. ‘No wonder the baby’s father deserted her. He probably woke up, got a good look at her sour puss in the morning light, and cursed himself for a drunken sot.’
The men-at-arms sniggered.
Florin’s face burned as they left via the Power-worker’s back room.
The baby amfina yawned, stretched then settled itself more comfortably in the basket. The Power-worker sent Florin a contemptuous look.
She hated them all.
Tears of fury stung her eyes as she went down the stairs and picked her way along the alley. Blind with anger, she wasn’t prepared when someone grabbed her and swung her up against the wall.
Orrade pressed his forearm to her throat. ‘Why, Florin? Why betray us to Neiron?’
‘I didn’t—’
‘Don’t deny it. I heard his voice. How could you...’
It was so absurd that she laughed, even as tears poured down her cheeks.
He released her. ‘If you didn’t betray us, why—’
She shook her head then tried to free herself. Her shirt fell open.
‘What’s this?’ He plucked the herb packet from her breast band.
She tried to retrieve it, but he was too fast. He took in the instructions in a heartbeat.
‘You’re with child? Whose child?’
She just looked at him.
‘But Byren said he didn’t—’
‘Apparently, he did enough.’
Orrade shook his head.
She held out her hand.
Orrade backed up a step. ‘You’d kill Byren’s child?’
‘What am I supposed to do? I can’t provide for my little brother, let alone a baby.’
‘You’re not using this.’ He went to tear open the packet.
She lunged, fighting him for it. They tripped and fell, rolling on the dirty cobblestones. Over and over they went. He was trying not to hurt her. She didn’t want to use blinding or crippling blows, so she ended up under him, weeping in frustration, as he sprinkled the powdered herb on the breeze.
‘What right do you have to stop me?’
‘I’m saving your life. Or didn’t the Power-worker tell you this could kill you?’
She flushed. ‘Then why do women use it?’
‘They’re desperate and you’re not. If the worst happens, I’ll marry you.’ He came to his feet and held out his hand.
She ignored it, just as she’d ignored his absurd, insulting claim. Furious, she climbed to her feet. ‘You can’t tell Byren. Promise me, Orrie.’
He shook his head. ‘I’d be lying if I made that promise.’
She glared at him.
With a shrug, he offered his arm.
‘I’m pregnant, not an invalid.’
He laughed. ‘Byren’s a fool. Come on, before the Wyvern’s Whelp casts off without us.’
FYN WAS GLAD to see the back of Byren and Merofynia was glad to see the back of Byren’s army. If Isolt was glad to see the back of Byren she did not admit it.
Together they waved from the docks as the fleet of borrowed merchant ships sailed off across Mero Bay. Then the pair of them climbed into the royal carriage to go back to the palace. Isolt did not speak. She seemed small and sad. Fyn longed to make her smile.
When they reached the stables, he helped her step down from the carriage. ‘You’re right. I should learn to ride Loyalty.’
This surprised a laugh from her, as he’d hoped it would. She looked up, eyes bright. ‘You’d let me teach you.’
He hadn’t realised how important it was to her. ‘Of course.’
Feeling light of heart, he followed her through the palace courtyards. By the time they reached the crescent of apartments, they were running, and by the time they reached the terrace they were laughing.
Loyalty came flying over the hedge to land on the lawn beside the fountain. Isolt let go of Fyn’s hand and ran down to greet her.
‘My poor girl,’ Isolt said, reaching up to rub the wyvern’s neck. ‘You’ll miss Resolute.’ Isolt turned to Fyn. ‘I think the terrace is the best place to start your lessons.’
He gulped.
‘You just hunch down low and hold on,’ Isolt told him, leading the wyvern up the steps and turning her to face the lawn. ‘The trick is to go with Loyalty’s movements. Don’t fight her.’
‘I
thought the trick was not to fall off.’
With a laugh, Isolt indicated he was to climb on. As Fyn stepped up to Loyalty, he realised her shoulders were above his head. Isolt spoke soothingly to the Affinity beast while Fyn climbed onto the wyvern’s back and wrapped his arms around her neck.
He felt Loyalty’s muscles bunch under him, before she leapt upwards with such force he almost lost his grip. Those great, shimmering wings spread out to each side of him and he was flying.
Well, gliding, as Loyalty sailed down from the terrace. Her feet touched down on the lawn and she took several steps before coming to a stop.
A moment later, Isolt caught up with them. ‘You did it. And you didn’t even fall on landing!’
Because his hands were locked in place. It took a conscious effort to release his grip.
‘Doesn’t it feel wonderful?’ Isolt asked.
And Fyn realised she loved flying.
‘There’s a headland where I’ve been practising over the water. That way, if you fall off, you land in the sea. Not that I’ve fallen,’ Isolt told him proudly. ‘Come on.’
It was dim and cool under the trees. Birds called above them, crickets chirruped and Fyn immediately felt as if they were in their own little world. He never wanted to go back to the real world. ‘Did you bring Byren here?’
‘Of course not,’ Isolt said. ‘Here we are. Loyalty loves flying from up here. She’s better at taking off from a high place.’ Isolt steadied the wyvern. ‘Up you get, Fyn.’
He glanced down. From the top of the cliff, it was a two-storey drop to the sunlit sparkling sea. He’d never had a problem with heights, but when he climbed, he was in control. While riding the flying wyvern, his life was in the beast’s...
‘Fyn?’
Despite his churning stomach, he climbed onto the wyvern’s back. He did it because he couldn’t refuse Isolt.
And because she had not shared this with Byren.
BYREN WAS GLAD to be on his way. They’d made the passage through Mulcibar’s Gate on the evening tide, and now they sailed southwest to avoid the dangerous rocks and scattered islands of the spars. He looked behind him at the six merchant ships, packed to the gunnels with men returning home to Rolencia.
‘You did a good thing, freeing our people,’ Orrade said, joining him.
Byren nodded. ‘The merchants weren’t too happy about loaning me their ships.’
‘They’ll make a profit on the return voyage.’ Orrade turned to face him. ‘Now that you’re sailing home with a loyal army, you no longer need Merofynia’s support. Frankly, I don’t see why you’d want it, not with that pack of nobles looking down their noses at you.’
Byren shrugged. ‘I can deal with them. What are you leading up to?’
‘Florin.’
Byren’s gut clenched, but he summoned a grin. ‘When I checked on her, she was already throwing up. She’ll never make a sailor.’
‘That’s not what I’m talking about.’
‘I know. I gave my word, Orrie.’
‘Queen Isolt’s a good woman, but she wouldn’t make you happy. Do you want to wake up next to her for the rest of your life?’
‘I can’t break my word.’
‘Some things are more important.’
‘What’s more important than honour?’
‘You should talk to Florin.’
‘In the palace, you advised me to avoid her.’
‘I did. But you need to talk to her now.’ Orrade’s thin face held an intensity Byren could not interpret.
A mixture of concern and curiosity drove Byren to Florin’s cabin, where he found her huddled on the bunk, pale and miserable.
She glared. ‘Why can’t you leave me to die in peace?’
‘No one ever died of sea-sickness,’ he said, then wondered if that was true.
‘More’s the pity.’
Byren grinned. He’d missed her. ‘Come out on deck. You’ll feel better.’
She swung her legs off the bunk and staggered across the cabin.
He took her arm, helping her up to the high reardeck. They stood at the rail, overlooking the middeck. Lanterns illuminated the ship’s sails, and behind them, the glowing sails of the merchant ships dotted the sea.
Byren had no idea what to say, so he took a stab in the dark. ‘Orrie told me.’
‘What?’ She was horrified. No, she was mortified, colour raced up her cheeks. ‘I specifically asked him not to.’
‘He was worried about you.’
‘Well, you don’t need to worry.’ Florin faced Byren, eyes glittering with angry tears. ‘I won’t make trouble. I’ll go away and you’ll never see me or the child.’
A roaring filled Byren’s head.
‘Orrie didn’t tell you?’ Florin was outraged. She thumped Byren hard enough to hurt. ‘How could you trick me like that?’
He caught her wrist before she could hit him again. ‘You can’t be pregnant. I didn’t...’ He shuddered, recalling how close he’d come to losing control.
Florin’s eyes narrowed. ‘Forget I ever told you. Go marry your little queen and be happy playing Duelling Kingdoms. That’s not the life for me.’
She walked off, proud and furious. Unfortunately, she had to run to the side to throw up.
Byren shook his head.
Even though he knew she would push him away, he wanted to help her. He waited, but she did not look back as she wiped her mouth and went to her cabin.
He gripped the rail. Florin pregnant. Sylion’s Luck. How could she fall pregnant so easily?
‘Well?’ Orrade prodded.
‘She told you rather than me?’ Byren was furious.
‘I caught her buying bitter-tears to get rid of the baby. I stopped her.’
‘You stopped her?’
‘It could have killed her. It would have killed your child.’ Orrade confronted him. ‘If you value our friendship, be careful what you say next.’
‘Orrie, you know I can’t marry her. I’ve given my word. What kind of king would I be if I turned my back on my betrothed?’
‘What kind of man would you be, if you turned your back on your child?’
Byren felt utterly trapped. He ran his hands through his hair. ‘I can’t live just for myself. I have responsibilities.’
‘So you’ll turn your back on Florin?’
‘I always meant to rebuild Narrowneck Tradepost for her.’ But now...
‘So your son will be a tradepost keeper?’ Anger made Orrade’s voice hard. ‘With Florin for his mother, he’ll be a big strapping lad. He should do well serving ale.’
With that, Orrade walked off, leaving Byren to wrestle with an impossible choice. If he broke off his betrothal to the queen of Merofynia to marry a destitute mountain girl, Isolt would be a laughing stock. But if he married Isolt, he had no right to Florin or their child. Was there ever a more miserable man?
From the hold below, he heard the foenix’s mournful cry. It seemed to echo how he felt.
Chapter Sixty-Three
FYN WAITED FOR Isolt. His whole body ached from the flying lessons of the day before. He’d been tense at first, but by the end he and Isolt had been taking turns with Loyalty. They’d even joked about finding a new wyvern mount for him to ride.
Breakfast was Fyn’s favourite time of day, even more so now that everyone else had left and he and Isolt could be alone on the terrace overlooking the Landlocked Sea. Alone, except for the servants.
Fyn watched the lords’ yachts moored on the Landlocked Sea, while he waited for Isolt. Some of the nobles had left late yesterday. Others were conducting business and would leave over the next few days.
He glanced up to the queen’s private chambers. Her curtains were still drawn. His stomach cramped with fear. It wasn’t like Isolt to sleep in. He strode inside, fighting the urge to run.
A servant answered her door. ‘The queen still sleeps.’
‘Go wake her.’
As the girl hurried off, Fyn told himself he was worryi
ng for nothing. Isolt would join him on the terrace. They would laugh about his fears, then go see Loyalty again.
The maid shrieked. Fyn ran across the greeting chamber and into Isolt’s bedchamber.
The maid came out of the bathing chamber. ‘She’s not here.’
‘Look for a note. Maybe she got up early and went for a walk.’
The girl did as she was bid.
But Fyn feared the worst. He went to the window to check on the nobles’ yachts. Neiron’s yacht had left overnight. Cold fear closed around Fyn’s heart.
Neiron had kidnapped Isolt.
It infuriated Fyn to think that the arrogant lord had waited until Byren sailed. Clearly he feared Fyn’s brother, but felt only contempt for Fyn.
‘There’s no note,’ the girl reported. ‘She’s been taken!’
‘Quiet, I must think.’ Fyn’s mind raced. If the merchants and nobles knew the queen had been abducted, there would be chaos. ‘We’ll say that she needs to rest. Let no one in.’
‘But—’
‘Everything must appear normal. You understand?’
The maid nodded.
‘I’ll be looking for her.’ And he knew just where to look. Fyn only hoped he was in time. ‘Send for the steward and Gwalt.’
As soon as she had gone, Fyn went to Isolt’s bed. He stretched out where the queen had lain and pressed his face to the pillow, inhaling her scent. For a heartbeat she was so real to him that he felt as if he could reach out and touch her. Then he had to exhale and, as the air left his chest, a deep sense of loss filled him.
He was Isolt’s lord protector. He’d die for her, yet he’d failed her.
By the time the palace steward arrived, Fyn was waiting in the greeting chamber. As Fyn explained that the queen was over-tired and the servants were to let her rest, the steward was visibly relieved. With all the noble guests and festivities, the palace had been in upheaval for days.
Fyn met Gwalt at the door, where a whispered word ensured a message would soon be winging its way to the mage.
But Fyn wasn’t going to wait for Siordun’s help. He sent a servant to fetch Camoric. The Flying Sarre was one of the fastest yachts ever built. When he caught Neiron, there would be blood.
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