In fact, his people still suffered because Cobalt still lived.
Byren would not know peace until he set his kingdom to rights.
Piro gasped as Byren dropped Isolt's hand and knelt on one knee before her. He lifted his head, dark eyes blazing from behind his matted hair. 'Isolt Wyvern Queen. I cannot marry you in good faith.'
Piro glanced to Fyn, where she saw hope dawn on his face only to be dashed as Byren continued.
'For my treacherous cousin sits on my father's throne, eating from his table, sleeping in his bed, oppressing the people of Rolencia. Only when I have restored my family's honour can I come to claim you.'
Isolt stiffened. 'But — '
'I know. We will need to rid Merofynia of Palatyne's treasonous supporters.' Byren jumped to his feet and beckoned Fyn. 'In my place I offer my brother to lead your army.'
Fyn's mouth dropped open.
Piro nudged him. 'Go on, everyone's watching.'
Fyn took three steps, accepted Byren's hand and was pulled up onto the table beside Isolt. Byren placed Fyn's hand on Isolt's.
'Place your trust in my brother, Isolt. Fyn is the most loyal of kingsons.'
'Oh, I do trust Fyn,' Isolt began. 'It's just that — '
'Good!' Byren turned to face the crowd, an arm sliding around each of their shoulders as he stood slightly behind them. Byren raised his voice. 'I name Fyn Rolen Kingson, Queen Isolt's general of Merofynia!'
Piro's heart went out to Fyn and to Byren, who had no idea what he had just done. Isolt's wyvern recognised Fyn and nudged his chest until he rubbed behind her horn nubs. The crowd took this as a good sign.
Byren looked over his shoulder. 'Climb up, Piro. I haven't forgotten you.'
Tyro steadied her as she climbed up between him and Isolt.
A mournful cry sounded from above. Piro's foenix circled, its heavy wings beating the air as it swooped low. The nobles and common folk whispered and pointed in awe. The bird spotted Piro and cried out again.
She went to lift her arm but Tyro whispered, 'No. If the foenix lands on your arm, you will be forever remembered as the rightful heir of Rolencia.'
Unaware of this, Byren gave a happy chuckle. 'Why, look, Piro. It's your foenix.'
Piro deliberately kept her arms by her side.
Byren whistled and the foenix landed on his forearm, settling in his arms. A hushed murmur rippled through the crowd.
'This is a sign!' Lord Dunstany cried. A flash of lightning punctuated his words. Both the foenix and the wyvern cried out in alarm, settling at a touch from Byren and Isolt. 'Beware, Cobalt, Byren Kingsheir will soon sit on the throne of Rolencia!'
The crowd applauded as the first heavy spots of rain fell, hitting the hot stones of the terrace with a hiss.
The heavens opened with a roll of cavernous thunder, and rain plummeted onto the crowd. Byren laughed. He leaped to the terrace, turning to catch Isolt and swing her down. The wyvern leapt after her. Fyn joined them.
The nobles scattered. The Merofynian people picked up their baskets, held their blankets over their heads and ran for home. The sea-hounds headed back to the ship.
Byren called to Orrade. 'Come, drink a toast in the great hall.'
In bare moments, the terrace was empty of everyone except for Piro and Tyro. She had to shout over the drumming of the downpour. 'We should go inside.'
'Lord Dunstany isn't needed for now. I'm going back to Ostron Isle,' Tyro said. 'I'm sorry I deceived you with the amber, Piro. You are free to rejoin your family as Piro Kingsdaughter.'
She glanced back to the palace. If she returned, her brothers and Isolt would welcome her, but soon they would be planning her marriage to forge an alliance. If she went with them she would be a piece in the game of Duelling Kingdoms. Or worse.
'They know about my Affinity now and that it is much stronger than Fyn's. They'd want to send me to the abbess of Sylion.' Piro could not bear the thought of living closed in by the walls and rules of the abbey. She blinked rain from her eyes and looked up at Tyro. 'If I come back to Ostron Isle, will you teach me what you know?'
'If you come back with me you will be a player, not a piece.' His brilliant eyes examined her. 'Is that what you want, Piro?'
Suddenly she knew why her piece had no face. 'I will never be a piece on the mage's war table. I was meant to be a player.'
He nodded. 'Then let's go, before they come to take Palatyne's body away.'
It was over at last. She had a future, but she had lost her family to Palatyne's pointless war. Piro froze as a memory came to her. She pulled her hands from Tyro's.
'Why do you look at me like that? What is it?'
'You started this war. You told Palatyne that one of King Rolen's kin would kill him.'
He shook his head. 'I never meant to start a war. I could see Palatyne was set on conquest.' Tyro shrugged. 'I tried to divert him but I made a mistake. I told him that one day someone he had wronged would kill him, hoping that he would mend his ways. Instead he went to the Utlander and demanded to know who would kill him. It was the Utlander who said King Rolen's kin would be his downfall. So Palatyne set out to destroy your family, and in doing so, destroyed himself!'
Piro's head swam. Her parents and Lence dead, because of Tyro's meddling.
'Don't turn away from me, Piro,' Tyro pleaded. 'I'm not ready to fill Mage Tsulamyth's shoes but I must. It's hard to be alone. Come back with me.'
She found his dark eyes too intense. 'For now. Come on. We'd better get back to the ship.'
Tyro jumped down to the roof of the cage and turned to help her, but Piro leaped down beside him. They climbed off the cart and ran across the grass.
Byren had shaved and bathed. His long black hair was still wet, and hung down his back. He could feel the damp through his borrowed shirt as he stood to make a toast. When no one was looking, he grinned at Orrade, best of friends, then turned to face the feasting hall.
It was filled with the old king's loyal aristocrats, who jostled for seats at the tables. Servants had hurriedly transferred what was left of the feast into the palace.
'A toast. Peace and prosperity for Rolencia and Merofynia!'
'Peace and prosperity,' the people echoed.
Orrade met Byren's eyes and they both downed their drinks in one gulp, while the Merofynians sipped delicately.
Byren sat, thinking how different the people of Merofynia and Rolencia were. That reminded him that his people were suffering. He leant close to Orrade.
'Arrange our passage on a ship back to Rolencia, Orrie.'
His friend nodded and left the table.
Byren glanced to Isolt. She was such a pretty little thing, so reserved and thoughtful. He didn't know what to make of her. She made him feel large and clumsy. But it wasn't just her size, for Piro was not much bigger and he'd always felt comfortable around her. Which reminded him.
'Where is Piro?' Byren asked.
Isolt and Fyn glanced at each other.
'I suspect she has sailed for Mage Isle,' Isolt replied, with a secret half-smile.
Byren sensed that the kingsdaughter was leaving a lot unsaid.
'That reminds me, I meant to return your family's emblems.' Isolt lifted the chains over her head. 'I don't want to keep what isn't mine. This large gold one, was it King Rolen's?'
'Yes. It's Byren's now,' Fyn said.
As Byren accepted his father's emblem from Isolt, his vision clouded with tears. He had seen it resting on his father's broad chest so many times, never had he thought to wear it himself one day. The old seer's prophecy had come true, in part.
'And this silver one, Byren, was it your mother's?'
'Yes.' He blinked away the tears and his voice caught as he replied. 'I… I would like you to have it.'
Isolt blushed as he took it from her fingers and replaced it around her neck.
Fyn pointed. 'The electrum emblem was Lence's as kingsheir.'
None of them spoke.
Byren cleared his throat. 'I will
save it for my first born. And I guess we will have to keep Piro's safe for her.'
'I have a feeling we'll be seeing Piro when we least expect it,' Fyn said softly.
'Where is your emblem, Fyn?' Isolt asked.
'Safely hidden and that is where it can stay. I make no claim to Rolencia.' His eyes held Isolt's. 'Or Merofynia.'
Byren wondered if he was missing something, but before he could ask, Orrade came back.
'We sail at dawn, my king.'
My king… that was what Florin called him. Byren felt a rush of excitement. He must find her, make sure she was safe.
'I can see you two want to make your war plans,' Isolt said, nodding from Byren to Orrade. She stood and bowed to Byren. 'I'm tired. Good night.'
Byren felt guilty, caught ignoring his betrothed. 'Fyn, can you escort Isolt up to her room? I don't want Palatyne's sympathisers trying to kidnap her. Set a guard on her door. Better still, stay and guard her yourself.'
Fyn opened his mouth, then closed it. 'Yes, my king.'
'Oh, I'm not king yet. I still have to reclaim Rolencia.'
Fyn strode from the feasting hall with Isolt at his side, then realised he was making her run to keep up and slowed his pace.
'My pardon, Queen Isolt.'
'Fyn?' She stopped at the base of the long curved stair. Servants had lit scented candles and the flickering flames sculpted her face.
He feared to meet her eyes in case she saw what he could not hide.
'Don't call me queen. We've been through too much together to — '
'You are my brother's betrothed and rightful queen of Merofynia, what else could I call you?'
'Friend?'
Fyn swallowed and managed to smile. 'You are right. My pardon — '
'So formal.' She rolled her eyes.
Fyn laughed but his heart was heavy. 'Come, you must be tired.'
They walked in silence up the curving stair. Isolt led the way into her chambers, pausing at a window that overlooked the Landlocked Sea. It was dusk now and still raining. Fyn could just see that Palatyne and the king's bodies had been removed from the terrace.
'So the board is cleared, ready for another game of Duelling Kingdoms,' Isolt said.
Fyn's Affinity tingled as if something was on the edge of his perception. He frowned, trying to make it clear.
'What was that?' Isolt asked.
'Nothing.'
She sighed. 'Well, I am glad it is all over.'
'Yes, my queen,' Fyn said. But his Affinity told him otherwise.
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