At Orrade’s signal, the Snow Bridge army stopped marching. The ursodon hornsmen stepped out in front. Then a blast of sound rolled down the hill towards them. It felt like a wall of thunder. The ground seemed to vibrate under their feet as if the earth itself roared.
Byren’s Snow Bridge warriors cheered wildly.
‘Those bloody great horns!’ Byren turned to Orrade, laughing as Orrade’s Snow Bridge warriors kept marching over the rise. How long before it was clear there were less than a hundred of them?
The horns sounded again and men kept pouring over the rise.
A shout went up from the enemy, as Cobalt’s supporters fought to escape the defensive position. As soon as one man turned and ran, panic spread. Seeing Cobalt’s men desert, the defenders on the tollgate cheered.
Byren rode along his army, shouting. ‘Let them through. Let them pass.’
Chandler opened the tollgate and his men streamed out to attack Cobalt’s men on the bridge, as Byren led one last assault.
This time, even the Merofynians were disheartened. They threw down their arms and offered their services as seven-year slaves. It was a sweet turn-about for the men Byren had freed. A pity so few of them had lived to see it.
He rode up the rise and onto the bridge itself, searching for Cobalt. His cousin had been here only moments before, twisting everything Byren said.
‘Can you see him?’ Orrade shouted. He was having trouble controlling his horse with one arm in a sling.
‘No, can you?’
They dismounted and made a systematic search of the dead, in case he was hiding amongst them. Then they searched the captives but they could not find Cobalt.
Byren cursed fluently.
Orrade put a hand on his shoulder. ‘You’ve beaten him. Send scouts out to check the town and fields. He can’t have gotten far. I’ll go back and fetch your bride. You can be married on the battlefield!’
And he rode off.
Chapter Seventy
FLORIN HEARD THE horns from a great distance, echoing across the valley. The sound was both eerie and threatening. Even from this distance, she could see the defenders break.
Scholar Yosiv turned to her, his features illuminated by her torch. ‘He’s a clever man, your husband.’
Florin found it hard to think of Orrade that way. In her mind, you weren’t really married if you didn’t share a bed. The old scholar returned to camp and Florin returned to studying the distant battlefield. Byren must not fall now, not when victory was within reach.
A shout made her turn around. Men ran into the camp, their silhouettes dark against the two camp fires. Believing the enemy to be contained, Orrade had taken all but six of their escort. And the royal carriage was clearly laden with riches. Florin cursed and ran down the slope towards their fire circle.
The abbot called his monks, who snatched up their weapons. The abbess called her nuns to her and somehow the five of them were lost in the commotion.
Florin saw the Snow Bridge servants snatch up pots and flaming branches, but they were cut down. The attack had come on them so quickly there could be no concerted defence. She ran through the chaos, slammed her torch into an attacker’s face, then pulled a stunned acolyte to his feet.
Around the far side of the carriage, Florin was in time to see the old scholar help the veiled kingsdaughter climb down. Just then a man arrived, swinging a bloody sword.
Yosiv stepped between him and the kingsdaughter, and was cut down with one blow. The kingsdaughter cried his name and fell to her knees. The man grabbed her by her head-dress.
Florin could have left the kingsdaughter to her fate. No one would have known. But she couldn’t leave a woman at the mercy of a man like this.
Tossing the torch aside, Florin caught the man around the neck and ran him through. Even as he fell, Florin grabbed Skevlaxa’s arm and darted into the trees with her. The trunks were lit by the dancing flames of the burning carriage. Someone gave chase. Before he caught up with them, someone else came in from the side, tackling the kingsdaughter and driving her to the ground.
As he sat astride her, gloating, Florin swung her sword, taking his head off with one blow. Momentum carried her around to face the second attacker.
Seeing what she’d done to his friend, he backed off, then ran for the clearing. Through the trees, she could make out men putting out the flames so they could loot the carriage.
Good. That would keep them busy, and give her a chance to get away with the kingsdaughter.
Covered in blood and shaking, Skevlaxa struggled to push the dead man’s body off her. With a kick, Florin sent the headless body sprawling. She hauled the girl to her feet. The head-dress and veil had already worked loose, and now fell away, revealing...
The wrong kingsdaughter. Shocked, Florin stared at the oldest sister.
‘I knew it,’ the kingsdaughter whispered, unaware that Florin could understand her.
There was no time. Any moment, more men might come after them. Florin grabbed the woman’s arm, but she twisted free, bending to retrieve her head-dress and veil.
Florin drew her into the woods until the shouting faded. They had to pick their way in the dark; the woods were lit only by the occasional flash of lightning. Florin stumbled across a shallow brook and led the kingsdaughter upstream to cover their tracks. Finally, they both climbed out, drenched from the knees down, shivering and shaking.
Florin found a spot under the trunk of a huge fallen tree. She settled the kingsdaughter, then sat with her back to the woman.
What was Byren going to say?
Nothing. He was an honourable man.
He’d accepted King Jorgoskev’s warriors, which meant he had to marry this woman even though she was eleven or twelve years older than him. ‘Oh, Byren...’
‘The shield-maiden hates me,’ the kingsdaughter muttered. ‘He’ll hate me. How could you do this to me, Father?’
‘I can see how he did it,’ Florin said, turning around. ‘I just don’t see why.’
‘You can speak our language? You’re a spy!’
‘You’re in no position to accuse me of double-dealing, not after what your father’s done, Skevlaxa.’
‘I’m Skevlaza, my sister is Skevlixa... Oh, I see. It was the names... King Byren wanted my sister. All the men want her.’ She spoke in a rush. ‘That’s why Father used King Byren’s mistake against him. He doesn’t want to part with Lixie. As long as the lords aspire to marry her, he can play the city states off each other. Whereas I’m...’ Burying her face in her hands, she wept bitter tears.
As Florin listened to those wretched sobs, she was moved to reluctant sympathy. She reached out and patted the woman’s back. ‘It’s not your fault.’
‘No, but I’ll be made to pay. King Byren will be furious. I told Father there had to be some mistake. A handsome young man like King Byren wouldn’t ask for a middle-aged widow like me. But it all happened so quickly... No wonder Father made me promise to uphold the old customs and remain sequestered on the journey. I’ll tell Byren he doesn’t have to marry me. He can send me away.’
‘He can’t insult King Jorgoskev.’
Skevlaza was silent for a heartbeat as she thought it through. ‘You’re right. That’s what Father was counting on.’
‘Why didn’t you object?’
‘No one argues with King Jorgoskev, least of all the king’s eldest, unwanted daughter. Besides, I had to think of my son’s future.’
Florin heard the Merofynians’ shouts echoing through the forest. ‘They’re looking for us. Hush.’
They remained huddled in the dark.
A little later, Florin woke to a familiar voice calling her name. ‘That’s Orrade.’ She cupped her hands to shout. ‘Over here, Orrie. I’m with the kingsdaughter. We’re alright.’
‘Stay there. I’m coming.’
Skevlaza caught her arm. ‘You saved my life, for which I thank you. But please don’t tell Lord Dovecote the truth. I want to speak with King Byren and explain myself.’
‘Very well.’
‘Florin?’ Orrade climbed onto the fallen trunk, just as the kingsdaughter replaced her head-dress and veil. He held a flaming torch high. ‘You’re both covered in blood!’
‘None of it ours,’ Florin said.
He laughed, jumped down to hug her. ‘And you told me to be careful.’ He gestured to the kingsdaughter. ‘You saved her life. Byren will be grateful.’
Florin was not so sure. ‘Who attacked us?’
‘Cowardly Cobalt deserters.’
‘Cobalt’s dead?’
‘He lost the battle. When I left, Byren was searching for his body. Come on.’
Back in the clearing, they found a dozen men waiting with horses. The abbess was there with all her nuns. Only two of the monks had survived. Both the abbot and the acolyte had been injured.
Orrade took Florin’s hand, leading her into the clearing. ‘Thanks to my sweet lady-wife, the kingsdaughter lives.’
The men all looked at her askance. With her hair askew and covered in blood, she was a sight. Yet in Orrade’s eyes she saw only pride and admiration.
While he made arrangements for the dead and found mounts for the living, Skevlaza leant close to Florin. ‘You are lucky your husband loves you.’
But Florin knew that Orrade had lived a lie for so long, he was a consummate actor. She wished...
She wished none of them had to live a lie.
THIS SHOULD HAVE been Byren’s moment of triumph, but frustration ate at him. Cobalt had escaped, and the bride he did not want was arriving any moment.
Of course, he’d done his duty. He’d seen to the wounded, secured the captives and assured the mayor of Tolton that his people would be recompensed for damages and food consumed.
Now he went to the stone balustrade where Cobalt had stood only moments before they’d routed his men. How had his cousin escaped?
Byren took two burning brands and dropped them over the side of the bridge. They fell away into the darkness, landing on the rocks below in a shower of sparks. By their light, Byren studied the quarry wall. There was no sign of anyone clinging to a ledge. The skirt of rock where the first arch stood was empty of hiding places, and then there was the swiftly moving river. No boat had come by since the battle began. Cobalt was not among the dead, wounded or prisoners. Where...
‘Byren.’
He turned to see Orrade leading his bride’s party. Florin carried a torch. Blood smeared her face, and her clothes were black with blood. His bride rode at her side, her gown stained with mud and blood, face hidden under a veil. The abbot slumped in his saddle, obviously injured. ‘What—’
‘Deserters attacked them, stole your bride’s wedding chests and made off with everything. The abbot is only just holding on.’
Jorgoskev’s daughter whispered something to Florin.
‘My king,’ Florin said. ‘Your bride wishes to speak with you.’
If she wanted to complain, he didn’t want to hear it; and if she wanted him to sweet-talk her, she was out of luck. ‘We can talk tomorrow. I’ve set aside rooms in the best tavern. It’s been a long day, and—’
The storm which had been holding off all day chose that moment to strike. There was a flash of lightning and a crack of thunder so loud the horses shied and everyone ducked instinctively. Lightning flashed through the low clouds and sheets of rain fell as the skies opened.
Within two heartbeats, their torches flickered and died. Now Byren could only see by the flashes of lightning and it was impossible to talk. He was glad—frustrated and exhausted, he was liable to say something he’d regret.
As the kingsdaughter fought to control her frightened mount, he stepped in, caught the reins and led the horse across the bridge and up the main street of Tolton.
At the tavern, he sent Florin and the kingsdaughter upstairs to bathe and rest, then drew Orrade into the private dining chamber. ‘Cobalt’s sure to find a way to cause me trouble. First thing tomorrow, I’m going to ride out after him. Which way do you think he went? Straight to Steadford Castle, or towards Rolenhold?’
‘You want my advice?’
‘That’s why I’m asking.’
‘I think it’s already tomorrow. And I think you should marry Jorgoskev’s daughter on the bridge where you crushed Cobalt’s army.’
‘I might have crushed his army, but I haven’t killed Cobalt. I’ll marry her in my father’s great hall.’
‘The Snow Bridge warriors have bled and many have died for you. They need to see you honour their king’s daughter. You need to marry her in front of them and smile while you do it.’
Byren strode to the window. Rain still fell, drumming on the shingles, pouring off the roof and hitting the cobble stones. ‘At least the rain quenched the last of the fires.’
‘Byren?’
Now he knew why Lence was always in a foul mood. But he was not his twin and he was not going to take it out on those who served him. ‘I know my duty. Organise the ceremony.’
FLORIN FOUND A warm bath waiting for the kingsdaughter. The chamber was richly appointed, with a fine four-poster bed and velvet curtains. Florin put the lamp on the chest at the end of the bed, unbuckled her sword and knife and left them there.
Then she tore off her jacket, glad to be rid of the bloody thing. Skevlaza pulled off her head-dress and veil. They both shivered. The rain had been icy and coming on top of everything else... ‘You’ll feel better when you’re clean, kingsdaughter.’
Skevlaza nodded numbly, tired fingers fumbling with the belt at her waist.
Florin moved to help her. ‘Here, let me help.’
She peeled off Skevlaza’s belt and then her sodden brocade coat. Next she went to undo the under-shirt.
‘Sweet as this is, that’s enough,’ Cobalt said.
Florin stared in shock as he stepped out from behind the curtains.
‘Who’s that?’ Skevlaza whispered.
‘Cobalt.’ Florin backed up, the kingsdaughter behind her. She glanced over her shoulder to the door, but one of Cobalt’s men stood there. ‘Scream!’
Skevlaza made a muffled sound.
Florin spun around to find another of Cobalt’s men had grabbed the kingsdaughter from behind, lifting her off her feet with ease.
Sucking a breath, Florin went to shout for Byren, but the man by the door grabbed her. She twisted, elbowing him in the ribs, and he grunted in pain.
‘Bitch!’ He belted her so hard she lost her balance, staggered and fell across the bed.
In a heartbeat, he was on her, shoving his hands up under her wet shirt.
‘None of that,’ Cobalt warned. ‘We’re not barbarians.’
‘Surely we can have a bit of fun with them before we kill them?’ the man protested. ‘It’s not like this one matters.’
‘On the contrary.’ Cobalt stood over Florin. ‘This one matters more than you think. Stand her up.’
The man hauled Florin off the bed and turned her around to face Cobalt. She could feel her captor’s body pressing against her back. He pinned her arms with one of his, and covered her mouth with the other hand. The more she struggled the more it aroused him, so she went very still.
Cobalt studied her. ‘There’s only one person who could have saved you from Narrowneck. But why would Byren bother?’
Florin had no intention of answering him, even if she could have.
‘Bring them both,’ Cobalt said.
‘I thought you were going to kill—’
‘I’ve had a better idea.’ Cobalt went to the curtains and pulled them aside to reveal a balcony. The rain was easing.
He signalled someone below. They lowered the kingsdaughter over the balcony into waiting arms.
Florin did not fight as they lowered her over the balcony. She had to pick her moment if she was going to save Skevlaza. Cobalt followed, swinging by one arm and landing lightly.
‘This way,’ Cobalt said. ‘I’ll make Byren regret he ever captured that bridge.’
The window
to the private dining chamber was open, and Florin could see Byren inside. If they could just alert him...
She tossed her head back, smashing her captor’s nose, and shouldered him aside, lunging for Skevlaza. ‘By—’
A fist slammed into her head.
Chapter Seventy-One
BYREN LOOKED UP as Orrade ran into the chamber.
‘Cobalt’s taken her!’ Orrade snatched Byren’s sword from the back of a chair and threw it to him. ‘Come on.’
Byren collided with Wafin and Chandler in the passage outside. ‘Sound the alarm, then follow me.’
One step ahead of him, Orrade ran out onto the street, paused, looked both ways, then took off downhill. Byren ran after him, as Wafin followed and Chandler roused the men.
The rain had stopped and the streets were wet and slick, gleaming in the starlight. Down near the tollgate, Byren saw several men. One was dragging a small woman, and another carrying a bigger woman over his shoulder. Florin.
The figures disappeared in the shadow of the tollgate tower.
‘I’ll kill him...’ Byren muttered. He’d strangle Cobalt with his bare hands. He put on a spurt of speed.
Once he was through the tollgate, Byren found Cobalt standing on the centre of the bridge with three men. One of them held the kingsdaughter. From this distance all Byren could see was the white of her undershirt and a pale, frightened face. Her captor forced her head up, holding a knife at her throat. The other two were supporting Florin, who swayed as if stunned. What had they done to her?
Byren strode across the bridge with Orrade at his side, a dozen men at his back and more arriving every moment. He could hear the shouts of outraged Snow Bridge warriors behind him.
The warriors’ translator pushed through the crowd to join him. ‘What’s going on?’
‘That’s close enough,’ Cobalt yelled. ‘I’m glad you could join me, Byren. As a wedding gift, I was going to leave the body of your bride in your bed. Then I thought it would be so much more satisfying for the Snow Bridge warriors to find the daughter of their king strangled and mutilated on the very bridge they’d captured for you. But now...’—Cobalt glanced from the kingsdaughter to Florin—‘now I think I will kill your ally’s daughter while the Snow Bridge warriors watch. Then I’ll take the mountain girl as my hostage, because we both know she’s the one you really want!’
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