And with that, there were no more brigands on their makeshift raft.
As they floated across the bay, Reoden went around checking each person for injury. She felt Egrayne’s shoulder and adjusted it, then reached for Tobazim.
He refused her touch, indicating Ardonyx who sprawled beside him, his belly and thighs covered in blood.
Her hands moved over Ardonyx and Tobazim saw his frown ease. A long sigh of relief left the sea captain. When Reoden was done she moved towards Tobazim, but he gestured to the injured Malaunje warrior.
‘I’m fine.’ His vision was blurry and he felt nauseous. ‘Heal him next.’
He was glad he’d insisted when she rolled the Malaunje warrior over and he saw it was Maric, from the winery. As the healer worked on him, the causare knelt between Tobazim and Ardonyx. She had such a sweet face, like spring after a cold winter...
Her hand clasped his, fingers entwined. The skin of her forearm was softer than silk, warm and tingled with power. He saw she’d taken Ardonyx’s hand, too. ‘You saved our lives, thank you.’
It was all the warning he had as she gift-infused them both. Her power, so rich and exotic, rolled through him, like waves of sunshine sending warmth into every limb. All pain banished, his mind rose beyond the everyday to a point of such acuity, he lost himself in the pattern of the brocade trim on her vest.
Lost himself entirely...
JARAILE READ THE king to sleep, then bid his manservant good night and went out to the balcony. She’d been standing on one balcony or another all day. Now she heard shouting and the clash of weapons from the Wyrd’s wharf.
No!
She ran to the dining room doors and threw them open, startling Ballendin, Halargon and Nitzane, who had lingered to drink and talk. ‘They’re attacking the Wyrd wharf. Come see!’
The three men crowded around her. In the distance, they could hear the roar of fighting.
‘But Eskarnor doesn’t have any men other than his honour guard,’ Halargon protested.
‘He found some somewhere, and Cedon is down there.’ Jaraile was so angry she shook. ‘I want you down there right now. I want that wharf protected. Nothing must interfere with the handover. Nothing!’
They didn’t argue. In no time at all, they’d strapped on weapons and assembled the king’s guard in the stable yard. All around her, they mounted up.
When she tried to climb up on the horse behind Nitzane, he dismounted. ‘Be sensible, Jaraile. It’ll be dangerous.’
‘But what if he’s frightened? What if he needs me?’
Nitzane laughed and hugged her. ‘Trust us to look after him.’
But she didn’t. No one loved Cedon as much as she did.
‘We can’t be worrying about you,’ Nitzane told her. ‘Stay here.’
She nodded. ‘But–’
‘But nothing.’
And they rode off, all the kingsguard, all of Captain Ballendin’s men. Surely they could keep her little boy safe.
Chapter Forty-Three
SORNE HELPED THE children out of the net that had hoisted them onto the deck. They thanked him, then ran to the side of the ship, where Malaunje and T’En, adults and children crowded to watch the fighting on the wharf.
‘I lost the chest, Sorne,’ Igotzon said. He was dripping wet.
‘What?’
‘The people on the stairs panicked. I was knocked into the sea. I’m sorry.’
‘Sorne.’ Frayvia threw her arms around him. She kissed him and he forgot everything.
RONNYN DREW HIS brothers and sisters close as all around them people pointed to the wharf overrun with Mieren. He should never have left his mother behind. How was she going to get to the ship now?
‘Is that the healer?’ Aravelle asked, pointing to a knot of defenders fighting a rearguard action down the steps to the floating jetty.
‘Where’s Ma? Where’s our baby brother?’ Vittor asked, his voice rising in panic.
‘See the way the healer’s holding her arm across her chest,’ Aravelle said. ‘I bet baby Ashmyr’s inside her vest.’
But there was no sign of their mother, as the causare and the healer urged a small boy onto the jetty. Only a few T’En and Malaunje warriors survived, and they battled at the base of the steps, trying to hold back the attackers.
‘I think they’ve cut the jetty free,’ Aravelle whispered. Sure enough, the floating jetty left the base of the stairs, and the last of the attackers were beaten back and thrown into the water.
The whole ship cheered.
‘And now there’s a rowboat going back for them,’ Aravelle said.
‘But where’s Ma?’ Vittor repeated.
They all looked to Ronnyn. He was the last one out of the cart. He knew the healer had done everything she could, but...
A storm of tears shook Vittor’s small frame. Aravelle hugged him. Sobbing loudly, Itania threw herself into Aravelle’s arms. Ronnyn went to console Tamaron, but his little brother was no longer by his side. Where had...
Ronnyn turned around and looked across the deck to see a Mieren warrior holding a knife to Tamaron’s throat. A dozen armed men surrounded the warrior.
‘Bring out Prince Cedon,’ the man yelled.
‘No,’ Ronnyn protested.
SORNE FROZE.
‘Bring out Prince Cedon or the boy dies.’
‘Eskarnor?’ Sorne looked over Frayvia’s head to see the baron surrounded by his fiercely loyal honour guard. Eskarnor held a knife to Tamaron’s throat.
‘Come on,’ Eskarnor said. ‘Why should Wyrds care who takes Prince Cedon?’
‘Where is the prince?’ Sorne whispered to Frayvia.
‘In the far cabin, with the healer’s T’En children. They’d have half a dozen gift-warriors, but...’
He assumed her hesitation meant Eskarnor had a point. Why risk one of their own for the hated king’s son?
‘Bring him out here or the boy dies.’ Eskarnor shook Tamaron, who whimpered.
Sorne saw Ronnyn come to his feet, raising the cane like he meant to use it. The lad would get himself killed.
‘Take me instead.’ Sorne stepped forward, unbuckling his sword belt and tossing it aside. ‘Take me hostage.’
‘You?’ Eskarnor’s eyes gleamed. The baron would gladly gut him, just because he could.
‘We have him,’ a one-eyed sisterhood gift-warrior announced. She left the cabin with four other warriors, who fanned out. Sorne could see by the way they watched Eskarnor, they were judging the right moment to attack.
‘This is the prince.’ The one-eyed gift-warrior led a small boy. He had fine white-blond hair and pale blue eyes, and did not walk with a limp. In his face, Sorne saw Jaraile’s sweet features. Sorne was not handing Prince Cedon over to die at Eskarnor’s hands.
‘Looks like I don’t need you, half-blood,’ Eskarnor said.
The one-eyed gift-warrior gestured to attract Eskarnor’s attention. ‘Let the T’En child go and you can have Prince Cedon.
‘Oh, no. You send the prince to me.’
Slowly, she walked Jaraile’s son forward. Meanwhile, her warriors tried to flank Eskarnor’s party. Sorne feared they’d panic Eskarnor’s men and Tamaron would be killed in the confusion.
‘So you planned to kill the prince and implicate Nitzane all along?’ Sorne asked and deliberately began to edge closer to distract Eskarnor.
‘Nitzane’s a fool, but I’m not. No closer, half-blood.’
‘How did you stage the attack on the wharf?’ Sorne asked. ‘I’ve had people watching the port. Your men-at-arms haven’t filtered in.’
‘Why should I sacrifice my men when there’s a slum full of hungry vermin ready to die for a chance to loot your wharf?’
‘And the harbour-master?’
‘His strongarms have orders to bring me every small boy-child they find. But they were only a diversion while I boarded the causare’s ship and got my hands on the prince.’
‘Cedon, no!’ Reoden cried.
S
orne turned to find Imoshen’s party had climbed aboard. As Ronnyn and Aravelle pleaded with them to save their brother, Reoden handed them the newborn.
Sorne saw the healer take in how Eskarnor held the little boy. She opened her arms. ‘Come to Ree-ma, Cedon.’
The prince ducked away from the gift-warrior and ran towards her. The instant he started moving, the gift-warriors attacked Eskarnor and his men.
Sorne was already running.
Too slow. He saw the baron cut Tamaron’s throat, cast him away and run for the side. Sorne dropped to his knees beside the boy, and clamped his hands over the wound. Too much blood.
‘Out of the way.’ The healer thrust him aside. ‘Get back!’
He felt her power like the heat of a naked flame and knew it could consume him. Tamaron’s brothers and sisters were too close. Sorne picked up Cedon. ‘Back! Everyone back!’
He drove them away until they were a safe distance from the healer.
‘Can she save him?’ Ronnyn asked Sorne.
‘She couldn’t save Ma,’ Aravelle said.
‘She deliberately provoked Eskarnor. She must have thought she could save your brother.’ Sorne only hoped the healer was right.
The gift-warriors dispatched two of Eskarnor’s honour guard who were too slow going over the side of the ship. Then they cleaned their weapons and formed a circle around her and Tamaron.
‘KEEP THE CHILDREN back, this is powerful gift-working,’ Imoshen told Sorne. She was so angry she shook as she stepped over the two dead Mieren. ‘Throw their bodies overboard. No honour in death, for those who have no honour in life.’
While several Malaunje moved to obey her, she approached Reoden’s hand-of-force.
‘Stand back, Cerafeoni. I only want to help,’ Imoshen said. ‘Ree’s already exhausted. She tried to heal the children’s mother, then she healed all of us who were injured in the scramble to escape the wharf.’
‘Imoshen’s right, Cera,’ Reoden’s voice-of-reason said.
Seeing Nerazime, Cerafeoni’s shoulders sagged. ‘We couldn’t save both boys. We–’
A soft thump made the circle of gift-warriors step aside. The hand-of-force sank to her knees and rolled Reoden over. ‘All-mother?’
Nerazime joined her, touched the healer’s face and closed her eyes. ‘She’s drained her gift.’
‘Is our brother all right?’ the children cried. ‘Is Tamaron all right?’
Imoshen knelt beside the small, bloodied boy. He was cold and pale and so very still. But under all that blood, there was a neat silver scar across his throat.
A wave of relief made Imoshen dizzy. ‘I can’t be certain.’ He’d lost a lot of blood. She hoped Reoden had been able to heal him before his mind began to shut down. Usually the healer urged the flesh to knit, and that was enough to speed the body’s natural healing process. Due to the nature of Tamaron’s wound, she’d had to heal him completely. ‘We’ll know tomorrow.’
‘Can we see?’ the children pleaded.
‘Let them come over, Sorne.’
The children crowded close, peering over her shoulder or crouching beside their brother.
‘Why isn’t he moving?’ the eldest boy asked.
‘He needs to rest,’ Imoshen said.
The littlest girl began to wail. Imoshen came to her feet and caught Nerazime’s eye. ‘See to the children, Nera.’
The voice-of-reason beckoned a Malaunje servant, who led them away. Meanwhile, the gift-warriors carried Tamaron and the healer into the cabins under the foredeck.
‘Ree-ma?’ Prince Cedon tried to get down out of Sorne’s arms. ‘Wants my Ree-ma.’
‘She needs to rest,’ Imoshen told him.
‘I should take Cedon back to his mother,’ Sorne said.
‘No.’ Imoshen held out her arms and the prince went to her. She tucked his head into the curve of her neck and stroked his hair. ‘This is what’s going to happen. You go back and tell King Charald we have his son. We could sail out of the headlands with him right now and he would never see the boy again. But we will return the prince, if our conditions are met.’
JARAILE PACED UP and down the balcony. She wished she could tell what was happening. Her stomach churned, and she felt sick with worry. She’d given up praying to the Mother. Now she prayed to the Warrior. Just let little Cedon be safe.
Heavy footsteps on the dining room floor. She spun around. ‘Is he–’
It was Eskarnor.
‘How did you get in here?’
Eskarnor laughed and gestured to his honour guards’ bloody weapons.
‘What are you doing here?’ Jaraile backed up.
Eskarnor kept coming, through the doors, along the balcony.
She realised he meant to take her and ran for the balustrade.
‘Oh, no, you don’t. I need you to legitimise my claim to the throne.’ He caught her around the waist, threw her over his shoulder and strode inside. ‘Once Charald and the brat are dead, you’re the closest thing to royalty this kingdom has.’
She drew her paring knife and stabbed him in back, once, twice.
‘You little bitch!’ He swung her off his shoulder. She flew through the air and landed on the dining room table. He plucked the knife from her hands, tossing it aside.
She sprang up, trying to slip past him.
He cursed and his fist slammed into her head. She felt her body fly sideways, then nothing.
SORNE CAUGHT UP with Nitzane and the two military men on the wharf. By the time it was secure and the Wyrds could load what remained of their stores, it was after midnight. Nitzane left Captain Ballendin in charge of the wharf, while Commander Halargon searched the port for Eskarnor and the harbour-master.
Meanwhile, Nitzane and Sorne returned to the palace. As they walked the corridors, he filled the baron in.
‘...so I doubt the Wyrds will hand over the boy until their terms are met,’ Sorne said. ‘Jaraile is going to be disappointed.’
Nitzane tapped on the queen’s bedroom door. ‘Jaraile?’
The old woman who served as her maid opened the door. ‘The queen is waiting up for you in the dining room.’
But Sorne found the dining room empty. He took in the overturned chairs and the words carved into the mahogany table. I have her, E.
‘Eskarnor.’ Nitzane cursed. ‘I swear, if he hurts her, I’ll...’
Sorne didn’t hear him for the rushing in his head. ‘He won’t hurt her. He needs Jaraile to legitimise his claim on the throne.’
‘I love her, Sorne. I can’t bear to think of her in his hands.’ Nitzane sank onto a chair, devastated. ‘What am I going to do? You’ve got to help me save her.’
‘The king–’
‘The king had a seizure two nights ago.’
‘Did he sign the decree appointing the five advisors to guide Prince Cedon until he comes of age?’
Nitzane shook his head. ‘He refused to discuss it. And when he learned Eskarnor had raped Jaraile, he had a fit.’
‘Is he rational?’
‘His wits come and go.’
Sorne’s mind raced. The king was not in his right mind. Nitzane wanted to save the queen, but Eskarnor wouldn’t hurt Jaraile. Sorne still had to ensure Prince Cedon was returned.
‘Poor Jaraile.’ Nitzane moaned then looked up at Sorne. ‘I’ll do anything to save her, anything. Just tell me what to do.’
To all intents and purposes, the kingdom was Sorne’s.
Epilogue
WHEN HE WAS seventeen, Sorne had seen a vision of King Charald hugging a small boy on the deck of a ship. Now it unfolded before his eyes.
The rest of the Wyrd fleet had already sailed through the headlands. Only the causare’s flagship remained, its sails painted by the dawn sun. The prince was lowered onto the deck of Baron Nitzane’s smaller ship in a net. He climbed out and stood there looking uncertain.
King Charald directed him to jump, then walk. Seeing his club foot was cured, the king knelt on the deck, swept Prince Ce
don into his arms and declared him fit to be his heir.
Sorne knew Jaraile would have hugged him first, then marvelled over his recovery.
THE KING ROLEN’S KIN TRILOGY BOX SET:
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Only seven minutes younger than Rolencia’s heir, Byren has never hungered for the throne; he laughs when a seer predicts that he will kill his twin. But the royal heir resents Byren’s growing popularity. Across the land the untamed magic of the gods wells up out of the earth’s heart, sending exotic creatures to stalk the wintry nights and twisting men’s minds, granting them terrible visions. Those so touched are sent to the Abbey, to learn to control their gift, or die.
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Sorne, the estranged son of a King on the verge of madness, is being raised as a weapon to wield against the mystical Wyrds. Half a continent away, his father is planning to lay siege to the Celestial City, the home of the T’En, whose wyrd blood the mundane population have come to despise. Within the City, Imoshen, the only mystic to be raised by men, is desperately trying to hold her people together. A generations-long feud between the men of the Brotherhoods and the women of the sacred Sisterhoods is about to come to a head.
With war without and war within, can an entire race survive the hatred of a nation?
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