When Piro finally lifted her head to look around she felt drained, but refreshed. Everything was sharp and clear.
And everything had changed.
The evil warlord's body had been removed, leaving only a bloody patch on the steps. Unace was trying to convince Seagrass to go into the hall with the help of some of her supporters, but he refused to leave her side.
Unace's people must have rushed up into the towers and buildings that opened onto the courtyard, for now they escorted the warlord's supporters, who had all surrendered. Shoving them to their knees in front of Unace, the spar warriors stood back waiting to see justice done.
'Do you want us to kill them?' one of Unace's men asked.
'Spare us, warlord Unace,' they moaned. 'Spare us.'
The new warlord stared at them, her mouth set in a hard line.
Piro held her breath, sensing this was a significant moment. Her stomach turned at the thought of seeing thirty unarmed warriors slaughtered without mercy.
Leaning heavily on a shield-maiden, Seagrass spoke up. 'I know you, Bearclaw. I healed your wife when she nearly died birthing your son.' He nodded to another. 'I know you, Whiplash, I treated your toothache.'
'Yes,' Unace whispered, voice growing in strength. 'I know you all. Many's the time we dined at my father's feasting table. Why did you do it? Why did you follow Steerden? How could you kill innocent children?'
It was a cry from the heart. Some of the men and women dropped to the cobbles, heads on the stones, moaning.
'Kill me! I am unworthy,' one cried.
'I cannot live with what I've done,' another pleaded.
'Then why did you follow Steerden?' Unace demanded.
All shook their heads, unable to explain it.
Piro understood. They had been swayed by the warlord's tainted Affinity. The same might have happened to her and she hadn't even thought to use the wards Fyn had taught her. The heat of shame flooded her, then drained away, leaving her light-headed.
A moment before, Unace's supporters had been ready to slay their captives, now some wept openly, many looked confused but a few were still angry.
'What happened to my kin is too great a crime to let pass unpunished,' Unace said, her voice hard. 'By the laws of Unistag Spar your lives are forfeited!'
Piro shuddered. She did not want to see the paving stones run red with blood. Too much had been spilt already. The unistag nudged her as if sensing her distress.
'Wait.' She ran to Unace, tugging on her arm to whisper. 'Let the unistag decide the fate of these warriors.'
Unace fixed on her and Piro held her breath as the new warlord debated.
'Yes.' Unace glanced once to the bloody stain on the steps, where Steerden had died. 'Let the goddess decide.' She raised her voice. 'Bare your chests to the unistag's horn. If you are truly remorseful, the unistag will spare you.'
Eagerly, Bearclaw undid his sword belt so he could take off his chain mail. 'I cannot go back to my wife and child, after what I've done. Let the gods decide my fate.' And, with that, he pulled off his chain mail and padded vest.
His chest was broad, covered with slabs of hard muscle, the pale skin scarred from old wounds. Piro could see the pulse beating madly in his throat, but he did not falter.
Though Steerden's death was still fresh in their minds, the rest of them eagerly tore off their chain mail and opened their padded vests to reveal their hearts.
Piro became an instrument of the goddess, as she walked slowly between the kneeling warriors, with the unistag at her side. Too tired and stunned to try to use her Affinity, she had no idea what the unistag thought they were doing as it followed her, keeping close enough to touch. Each time she passed a warrior they stared up into the unistag's eyes, baring their souls, searching for something.
It took her a moment to realise they needed forgiveness.
Like her, they had been tainted by Steerden's Affinity. She had washed his blood off her hands, but he had turned them to an evil purpose and they needed to be cleansed. So this was why the abbeys feared untamed Affinity.
When every last one of them had confronted the unistag and lived, Piro looked up at Unace expectantly.
'You are all forgiven,' the new warlord announced. 'Go home to your families, plant your crops, build, don't destroy.'
Bearclaw placed his hand on his heart. 'I beg a boon, warlord Unace. I beg to serve you if you are ever in need.'
'And I,' echoed the others.
'I am honoured to accept your service,' Unace said.
In sparing their lives, she had won their loyalty. If Warlord Unace had begun her rule with the slaughter of these warriors she would have begun it in blood and so stained her leadership. Piro felt relieved that they had all come through this test, but now that it was over she was so tired she could hardly keep her eyes open.
Unace took Seagrass's free arm. 'I am blessed by good-hearted supporters. Come into the great hall, everyone! Time to forgive and feast!'
They cheered.
Once inside, Piro discovered she was hungry. She took her seat at the high table, hardly able to think straight. Unace ordered someone to fetch her baby and another to recall Byren Rolen Kingson. There was so much to think of when you were a ruler. Piro was glad she was not a warlord.
Servants came up from the kitchen with platters of cold meat, sliced preserves and day-old bread. Piro could just imagine the poor cook madly scrambling to serve up a breakfast feast without warning. Still, there was enough for everyone. While the others ate and talked, Piro slipped treats to the unistag. Having eaten her fill, she just wanted to curl up and sleep. The spot in front of the big fireplace looked good.
That evening Byren strode into the great hall of unistag Stronghold to see Lady Unace in her place as the new warlord. Clearly unhurt, she sat at the high table with her infant son in her arms. The healer still looked pale from his wound. Byren had been given a full description of how they won the day and, as soon as he had formally greeted the new warlord, he looked around for Piro.
'Are you hungry, Byren? You must be!' Unace decided. 'Today has been one long feast but I'm sure the cook can find enough to feed you and your men. I owe you a debt, kingson, and I won't forget it!'
'Where's Piro?' he whispered.
She smiled. 'Our goatherd is by the fireplace.'
Byren spotted Piro, asleep like so many other exhausted supporters. And not far from her, in pride of place, was the unistag. Someone had taken down the large emblem from above the fireplace and spread it on the floor. The Affinity beast knelt on its namesake, dozing in the heat.
'After what happened today, the unistag must stay,' Unace told Byren.
He nodded.
Unace frowned. 'But when your sister leaves…'
He understood. How were they to resolve this? Much as he liked Unace, he didn't want to leave his sister here. 'I must speak with Piro.'
He weaved his way through the tables and sleeping bodies to kneel at Piro's side. Curled into a ball, hand near her mouth, she looked absurdly young. He touched her gently on the shoulder.
Like a warrior on a raid, she woke instantly. He saw fear and horror in her eyes, making his heart lurch with guilt. Then she recognised him and beamed. 'Byren!'
'Yes, little goatherd. I hear you have been busy. Come up to the high table.' He stood, pulling her to her feet.
She laughed and went to hug him, then remembered that she was meant to be a goatherd and gestured to the busy hall. 'Did you ever think your ploy would be so successful?'
He smiled slowly. 'It is everything I hoped.' Then he sobered. 'But we have a problem. The unistag must stay here, Piro. I know you're fond of — '
'Oh, I agree. He must stay to validate Unace's rule.'
'Validate Unace's rule?' Byren teased, then rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. 'I don't see how it can be done since he is so attached to you.'
Unace's infant son gave a lusty squall. Byren glanced towards the high table to see the new warlord feeding her baby. It was an odd sight, but considering how warlord Steerden maintained his power through fear, having a warlord who personified the goddess Halcyon would reassure the people of Unistag Spar. Seagrass poured Unace a drink and adjusted the cushion behind her.
'Don't fret, Byren,' Piro announced. 'I know how we can keep the unistag happy.'
She darted away towards the high table just as servants arrived with platters of hot food, beef and sage stew, freshly baked bread and cinnamon apples for his men. Byren's stomach rumbled appreciatively and he headed towards his place at the table.
He only hoped Piro was right. But for now he concentrated on eating while noting that she was speaking very seriously to the healer, who seemed to agree with her. Strange, before today he would have said Piro was hardly more than a wilful child. Now, he felt inclined to trust her judgement.
Two days later, still in her disguise as a lowly goatherd, Piro waited to leave Unistag Castle. The rest of Byren's men had loaded their pack ponies, ready to leave. She scratched at a flea bite and wished the formalities finished. It had been fun to sleep on the floor with the servants, and go where she wanted with no one to question her. But there were disadvantages. How she longed to get home so she could have a bath, rid herself of fleas and change into clean clothes!
Warlord Unace cleared her throat and the crowd in the courtyard fell silent. 'As a symbol of the loyalty of Unistag Spar I present Byren Rolen Kingson with the horned staff.'
Her people cheered. They did not begrudge him the staff, not when they had a live unistag in their hall. Piro grinned.
'I accept this staff on behalf of Rolencia. May there always be friendship between our people,' Byren said, giving a courtly bow that would have made their mother proud. 'We will see you at the Jubilee celebrations this spring cusp, warlord Unace.'
Byren wrapped the unistag staff in a cloak and strapped it onto the nearest pack pony, then turned to leave. As Piro went to take her place in the line, Seagrass caught her arm.
'Little goatherd, listen to the advice of someone much older than yourself,' he whispered. 'I sense no evil in you but you saw what became of Steerden. As a boy there was no evil in him either. When you go home, tell King Rolen and Queen Myrella the truth. Go to the abbey and serve Sylion. The mystics mistress will teach you how to keep evil at bay. And you will have the satisfaction of knowing that you serve Rolencia to the best of your ability.'
Piro gritted her teeth, staring at the pony's rump in front of her nose. She liked the healer but she didn't want go to the abbey and she didn't want to lie to him.
He touched her arm softly. 'I will be coming to Rolencia for the Jubilee. If you have not revealed your secret by then, I am honour-bound to reveal it.' His voice dropped. 'Please don't make me do that.'
'I understand,' Piro said and, as the line moved off, she moved with it. She understood but she didn't want to serve Sylion. She didn't know what she was going to do.
She had until spring cusp to work something out.
'Quick, off you go,' Byren told Piro as they entered Rolenhold's main gates. His sister had to sneak into her bed chamber, where she would make a miraculous recovery from her sore throat and be present to greet him in the great hall, when he officially returned.
While they travelled back she had played his servant. With only Garzik, Orrade and Temor any the wiser, the rest of the men had thought nothing of her caring for the ponies, cleaning his boots and cooking his dinner. Funny thing was, Piro had thought nothing of it either, never complaining.
'See you inside,' Piro whispered, then blended into the busy stable yard, just another servant.
Garzik slid his pack off his shoulders, passing it to Orrade. 'Think I'll go after her, make sure she gets in safely.'
'Don't.' Byren caught his arm. 'She won't thank you.' He grinned. 'In fact, she'd probably say you were in the way.'
Orrade nodded. 'Piro isn't in need of your protection, little brother.'
Garzik grinned sheepishly. He seemed unable to make up his mind whether to be outraged by her unorthodox behaviour or impressed. Byren suspected he was veering towards impressed.
Temor came over. 'We're ready.'
Byren nodded.
The grizzled old captain put a hand on his shoulder. 'It was nigh on impossible, but you did well.'
Byren felt the heat race up his cheeks. 'With your help.'
Temor nodded. 'A good leader knows the strengths of his men and how to use them.'
Byren cleared his throat and unstrapped the unistag horned staff then turned to face the others. 'Ready?'
Orrade and Garzik nodded.
It was good to return successful. What would his mother and father say? And Lence?
Would Orrade run straight to Cobalt and reveal the ruse Byren had used? And if he did, how would Cobalt turn this knowledge to his advantage? The only sour note in the whole campaign was the fact that Orrade hadn't trusted him enough to reveal Cobalt's threats.
Since she was supposed to be recovering from her sickbed, Piro put up with wearing a shawl. There had been no time to speak with her mother. As soon as word of Byren and his party's return reached them, everyone had gravitated to the great hall, eager to hear his news. Now Piro stood on one side of her mother, with Lence and her father on the other.
Her heart lifted as Byren strode into the hall with Temor and the others at his back. He held the staff, its horn gleaming. With each step he took, its base struck the stones, the sound echoing off the ceiling above.
People muttered, pointing and marvelling.
'By the look of things, Byren has been successful,' her mother whispered approvingly.
'King Rolen, Queen Myrella.' Since he had been on a mission for Rolencia, Byren greeted them formally. With a flourish, he flicked the staff's end up so that it lay horizontally across his open palms. 'I present the horned staff of Unistag Spar as a symbol of Warlord Unace's loyalty.'
King Rolen accepted the staff and the crowd cheered. Lence shifted impatiently.
'Well done, Byren.' Their father handed the staff to the queen and marched down the two steps to congratulate him and his men.
Piro would have run down but her mother took her arm firmly, saying, 'You must not make yourself ill again, daughter.'
Piro flushed and nodded. Her mother's keys of office chinked elegantly with each step as they descended from the dais. Ever since Piro could remember, they had been a symbol of the queen's power. She was the hub of the castle and the hub of King Rolen's world.
Piro now knew that she could never be the kind of woman her mother was.
What was she thinking? If she did not confess her Affinity and retreat to the abbey, monk Seagrass would reveal her deception. She glanced swiftly to her mother, who was smiling at Byren, and her heart faltered. By failing to hide her Affinity she had let her mother down. She would have to confess her failure, but not yet.
'Byren.' The queen hugged him. Their father had moved along to congratulate Captain Temor. Young Garzik was telling him about the amfina attack and offering to show off his new scar. Her mother smiled and met Byren's eyes. 'I'm sure you have some interesting stories to tell.'
Piro could hear the teasing laughter in the queen's voice, because no one else would ever know the ploy Byren had devised. His trusted men were sworn to silence and, as far as the menagerie keepers knew, the unistag had died of old age and been buried. Her mother had only had to take Halcyon's Affinity warder into her confidence because Autumnwind had to hold a mock ceremony to be sure the beast's Affinity returned to the goddess's breast.
'And no more scars, thank Halcyon!' Byren grinned.
Just then King Rolen called for his finest Rolencian red and the men moved off to celebrate. Their father put an arm around Lence and Byren. 'Now nothing can spoil our Jubilee Celebrations. When we line up with all our warlords to greet King Merofyn and his daughter, he'll — '
'That reminds me, father,' Byren said, gesturing to the staff in his mother's hands. 'Lence was saying he wished he had a unistag horn to give King Merofyn to replace the one that was stolen… well, here it is!'
King Rolen glanced to the queen. 'Give it away? What do you think, Myrella?'
She studied the horn on the end of the staff. 'The greater the gift, the greater the giver. Lence would — '
'Excellent!' King Rolen beamed and retrieved the staff from the queen, thrusting it into Lence's hands. 'A handsome betrothal gift from the future son-in-law to King Merofyn, eh?'
Lence studied the horned staff.
'Handsome indeed,' Cobalt said. 'Your twin does you great honour, Lence.'
'I don't know what to say,' Lence muttered.
'No thanks needed,' Byren told him, then hesitated as if he would say more, but didn't.
'Well…' Their father filled the silence. 'Come, let's hear how it went.' And he led Byren off, leaving Lence with the horned staff.
Lence and Cobalt strode after Byren and their father.
'Now tell me the true story,' the queen whispered, linking her arm through Piro's. 'The one that your brother and father won't hear!'
'Can we go to your chamber?' Piro asked softly.
Her mother took one look at her face and agreed.
Three floors up, they sat in the queen's private solarium, alone but for Seela who seemed to have a nose for trouble. The outer room, usually filled with chattering ladies, was oddly silent as Seela stirred up the coals in the ornately tiled warming stove.
Piro held out her hands, but no heat reached her. She was cold from the inside out. Aware of her mother and old nurse waiting for her to begin, she took a deep breath. Best get it over with. 'The warlord's healer, Monk Seagrass, sensed my Affinity. I must go to Sylion Abbey voluntarily or he will reveal everything, when Warlord Unace comes for the Jubilee.'
'But how — ' Seela began.
'He saw me quieten the unistag with my Affinity.'
Her mother's shoulders sagged. 'Only a monk could have sensed this. The chances of one being present… but I should have — '
'Don't blame yourself,' Seela insisted. 'It's bad luck, Sylion's luck.'
Her mother just shook her head.
'I'll have to go to the abbey,' Piro finally admitted, then turned to her mother. 'Can I stay for the Jubilee? Please? I don't want to miss it.'
The queen nodded and swallowed. 'We can tell the mystics mistress and the abbess the "good" news when they come for the celebration. Make a formal announcement.' She met Piro's eyes, her own shimmering with tears. 'I'm so sorry — '
Piro dropped to her knees and threw her arms around her mother's waist. 'It's not your fault. Who would have thought you'd have two children with the Affinity?'
Seela rubbed the queen's back. 'A curse on unwanted Affinity.'
Piro's mother lifted her head, brushing tears from her cheeks. 'It's not so surprising, really. I never met him, but I suspect Rolen's father had it, too.'
'King Byren the Fourth?' Piro sat back on her heels.
'Why else do you think he collected god-touched beasts? In fact, I think Rolen's older brother, Piren, also had Affinity.' She hesitated, then seemed to make up her mind, holding Piro's gaze intently. 'Rolen once described how they died — '
'On the battlefield, killed by a Merofynian renegade Power-worker,' Piro supplied.
Her mother nodded. 'There's more to it than that. They were in the tent with Rolen planning the dawn battle. Suddenly, the Affinity warders rushed in and began a chant to ward off evil power, but before they could finish it, they fell to their knees vomiting blood. Without their protection, King Byren and Piren clutched their heads, went into convulsions and died. There was nothing Rolen could do. At barely eighteen, their deaths left him king of a country at war. Don't you see? If Rolen'd had the same Affinity, he would have died along with them. His father and brother were susceptible — '
'To evil,' Piro whispered. 'But why didn't it affect father? On Unistag Spar, Steerden's evil Affinity tainted everyone around him.'
'Over time, Affinity can seep into those who would normally be unaffected by it,' her mother said. 'It wears down their natural resistance.'
'Oh.' Seagrass was right. Piro had to go to the abbey, where her life would be spent amidst hundreds of women, serving the cruel god of winter when she loved summer and growing things. Somehow she summoned up a smile. 'At least I won't have to marry warlord Rejulas.'
Her mother and Seela exchanged looks.
'What?'
'He will be furious. He'll think Piro has chosen abbey life rather than marry him,' Seela predicted.
'We should tell him before the Jubilee,' her mother decided. 'It would be rude to have him ride in and find out when we announce it. Lence can go. He gets on well with Rejulas.'
'When will he leave?' Seela asked.
'The sooner the better. Give the warlord of Cockatrice Spar plenty of time to get used to the idea.'
Piro felt awful. This time, through no fault of her own, she had complicated things for her family.
Her mother leant forward, to catch her hand and pull her to her feet. 'Come downstairs. Whatever we feel inside, we must present a united front for the celebrations tonight. Byren has done well and Lence is no longer trying to talk your father into war. The king can be pleased with his two eldest sons.'
Even this felt like a condemnation to Piro, because King Rolen's only daughter had failed him.
Byren held the matching lincurium rings, studying the way a star of light appeared in each of the stones' centres. He'd arrived in his bedchamber, only to receive word from the jeweller that his gifts were ready.
'A beautiful matched pair of winter-crystallines,' the silversmith agreed with Byren's unspoken thoughts. 'But nothing compares to this one.' He withdrew the pendant from its bed of azure velvet. 'Your brother's betrothed is a lucky woman. He will be honoured by your gift for her.'
'I hope so,' Byren said. The pendant was remarkable but he suspected it would take more than pretty jewels to mend things with his twin. He returned the pendant, becoming aware of the silversmith, who waited for his approval. 'Impressive. You've done the stone justice.'
The silversmith beamed and replaced the pendant to its carved wooden box.
Byren paid him for his services and thanked him, sending him on his way. If only he could give this pendant to Elina, but the kingson's wife must not outshine the kingsheir's. The thought made Byren pull up short. As yet, he had not even spoken with Elina, let alone won her forgiveness. If he could not give her the pendant, he could at least give her something that let her know how he felt.
Drawing a sheet of writing paper from his desk, Byren began composing a poem to his Dove. After many attempts on several sheets, he felt it was almost ready and tucked the drafts away in his top drawer, along with the rings and pendant. He'd come back and read the poem again, then write a clean copy for her. But he was in two minds whether he should send it to her and ask for a meeting, or meet with her, apologise and give it to her in person.
Still debating this, Byren went down to the great hall to rejoin the celebrations. Two tankards later, he turned at the sound of his name.
Winterfall, Chandler and the others who had been on the ill-fated expedition to find the lincis waited, grinning expectantly.
Byren felt the same happy grin tug at his lips. 'Chandler, how's the shoulder?'
'Stiff, but getting better.'
'Winterfall, how did Blackwing go, tracking the ulfr pack?'
He shook his head. 'We followed their trail high into the Dividing Mountains. By then the village had a new Affinity warder. He and the wardess contained the seep. They each sent a large pair of sorbt stones to their abbeys, so it was a bad one.'
Byren nodded. The stones would remain dormant unless separated, then the Affinity trapped in the stones would leak out, or it could be drained by a renegade Power-worker. Rogue mages would pay a small fortune for stones like that. Luckily, the abbeys kept the sorbt stones securely guarded in their Inner Sanctums. 'And the Royal Ingeniator?'
'Safe. He has already reported to King Rolen.'
'And what of that complaining monk… Hedgerow, wasn't it?'
Winterfall grimaced. 'Lucky for us, he was recalled to the abbey.'
Byren chuckled.
Winterfall grinned and nodded to his five young companions. As one, they all dropped to their knees. The men nearest stepped back to watch and the silence spread until Lence and Cobalt also turned. Byren felt them watching. Knowing what he did about Cobalt, he found it impossible to meet the man's eyes. He feared Cobalt would be able to read the contempt Byren felt for him, and he was too cunning not to realise Byren had seen through him. If only Lence could!
For a heartbeat Byren considered taking his twin aside and revealing all…
'We want to offer our service to your honour guard, Byren Kingson,' Winterfall said formally.
Byren felt heat race up his cheeks. He'd led them into danger, which had caused Chandler's injury. He did not feel worthy of their service.
'Will you have us?' Winterfall asked.
What could he say? 'I'm honoured.'
Ten minutes later they were on their second bottle of Rolencian red, while Winterfall and Chandler tried to outdo each other, describing the near misses they'd had with the ulfr pack.
'…and Blackwing said he's never known such a cunning pack leader,' Winterfall said.
'Did you set traps?' Garzik asked eagerly.
'Aye.' Chandler nodded.
'All useless,' Winterfall added.
'How about…'
Byren was aware of a gentle tug on his arm and turned to see the castle scribe waiting patiently with a roll of vellum. Amongst his tasks were making a record of the hearings, transcribing any new poems and sagas that took King Rolen's fancy and keeping track of the tithes for the queen. He could also draw a good likeness, or embellish a shield with the royal foenix. But Byren hadn't asked him to do any of these things.
Despite the large meal, Byren's head was spinning and all he really wanted to do was go to his bed and sleep. 'What's this?'
'The emblem for Byren Kingson's honour guard,' the scribe said and unrolled it with a flourish. There was a moment's stunned silence as Byren took in the illustration — a foenix on defence against a leogryf with its wings raised.
'Do you like it?' Garzik tugged on Byren's arm. 'I asked Piro to do the original design to commemorate your leogryf kill. The scribe has embellished her work.'
Byren did not know what to say. The drawing itself was excellent… but he wasn't ready to formalise his honour guard with an emblem.
'Excellent idea,' Cobalt agreed. 'Lence Kingsheir should have an emblem for his honour guard.' As he turned to Lence, Byren noticed that all his twin's honour guard wore their hair loose on their shoulders, Ostron Isle style. 'If you will give me the honour, I will design one and have the scribe embellish it. Now… what will it be? As heir, Lence should be represented by the foenix.'
Everyone nodded and turned back to the emblem the scribe held. Suddenly, Byren saw it in the worst possible context. If Lence was the foenix — and he had more right to that symbol than Byren — then that meant Byren was the leogryf, doing battle with the foenix. He was dismayed.
'But it's not meant to be taken that way,' Garzik protested, following the same train of thought.
'Lence, your foenix's feathers could be picked out in gold thread,' Cobalt suggested, as though unaware of the connotations his last comments had triggered. Byren believed otherwise.
'Lence? I…' Byren began, then hesitated, not sure how to go on.
Lence tossed back his wine, ignoring Byren. 'Red and gold… I like that, Illien.' He beckoned the scribe. 'Meet me in my chambers first thing tomorrow. We'll have a design ready for you. I want surcoats for my men and shields. When can they be ready?'
'Soon.' The scribe was eager to please. 'Once you approve the design, I can have the pattern transcribed, ready to be embroidered. As for the shields, you'll have to speak with the weapons-master. But they could be completed for the Jubilee.' He glanced to Byren. 'The material has been purchased. And the seamstress is waiting to measure your honour guard for your surcoats. You'll want shields as well.'
Byren went to tell him not to bother but he didn't get a chance.
'My honour guards' shields and surcoats must be finished first,' Lence insisted, belligerent with wine.
'Of course,' Byren snapped. 'It's your wedding.'
The moment he said it, he wished it unsaid. It rubbed salt in the wound.
Sensing trouble, the scribe bowed then hurried off. Byren wanted to apologise but Lence did not give him the chance.
'Come, Illien.' Lence shoved between Winterfall and Chandler and marched off, followed by his honour guard, all eager to advise him on the design of their emblem.
Byren's honour guard began filling goblets to celebrate with a toast. Was he the only one who sensed the widening rift?
Isolated in a sea of celebration, Byren caught Orrade's gaze on him. His friend's eyes held a kernel of worry, so Byren wasn't imagining things.
Garzik tugged on his arm. 'I didn't mean for it to be taken that way, Byren. I was only trying to please you.'
'I know, lad,' he said softly.
'I suspect Lence would take anything Byren does as a challenge,' Orrade muttered.
'But why?' Byren turned to him, frustration welling up.
'Because you'd make a better king and he knows it.'
Byren starred at Orrade.
A goblet full of rich Rolencian red was thrust into his hand, as happy faces crowded his vision.
'A toast,' Winterfall cried. 'A toast to Byren, the leogryf slayer!'
For Byren the wine had no taste. He could think only of the old seer and her seemingly impossible prophecy.
It took the better part of the evening, but he finally managed to escape his honour guard. He headed up the stairs to the family's wing of private chambers, deep in wine-befuddled thought. How could he stand by and watch Cobalt insinuate himself into Lence's trust? He had to act before it was too late.
The clink of keys made him look up to see his mother coming down the stairs.
'You can't trust Cobalt,' he blurted.
She blinked, her preoccupied expression clearing as she focused on him. She sniffed, disapproval tightening her mouth. 'You're drunk.'
'A little,' he admitted. 'But that's not the problem. It's Cobalt. He's turned Lence against me.'
'You did that yourself, Byren. I warned you not to outshine him. Even giving him the unistag staff was an insult of sorts.'
This was so unfair that Byren gaped, then tried to focus on what was important. 'Cobalt's — '
'I'll not hear a word against Illien. Many years ago, when you were a child, he was kind to a lonely young woman, who could do him no favours.'
He stiffened, not liking the implications. 'But — '
'Oh, Byren. Sleep it off. I have real problems to deal with. Your father's offended both Halcyon and Sylion's healers by refusing to let them treat him!'
Byren recalled the time he'd walked in on his father receiving treatment from the manservant. 'Valens was Cobalt's manservant, he — '
'He's helped Rolen walk without a limp. That's good enough for me. Let it go, Byren.' His mother stepped past him, keys clinking as she hurried down the steps.