'You can't keep your Affinity hidden. It — '
'I have so far, from both the castle Affinity warders and from both the abbey mystics. I've been as close to them as I am to you right now. Can you feel anything now?'
He focused and tried to sense her again. She registered on his senses with an absence which was odd. 'No… at least. You don't feel neutral. The only reason they haven't noticed is because it takes effort to sense Affinity. I felt something before when I tested you and my Affinity's weak. You'll give yourself away somehow and there'll be a terrible reckoning.'
'But why would they suspect? I've already been tested. No one guessed mine was dormant then. Oh Fyn, it's so strange. Mine came on me suddenly and it's getting stronger. Things like the Fate have been calling me. They have a sort of hum that's just on the edge of hearing. Don't you sense it?'
Fyn shook his head. Piro was more of a mystic than him, yet he had been sent to the abbey, forced to give up family and position in the world. Where was the justice in that?
'Don't tell mother and father, Fyn,' Piro whispered. 'Please?'
'We must. It'll be worse if we hide it like Farmer Overhill. No one will believe our parents didn't know. Even father's old honour guard will be angry with him.' Exasperation and fondness fought for supremacy. 'Abbey life is not so bad, Piro.'
'That's not what you said last time we talked. At least now I can slip away and…' Her eyes widened in horror. 'Why, if I was sent to the abbey I'd have to give up my foenix — '
'Oh, Piro. You are such a baby!' He felt like shaking her.
She glared at him and opened her mouth to speak, then stopped.
They both heard the steady thumps of someone running through the snow.
'Please Fyn, promise not to tell?' Piro pleaded, glancing over her shoulder.
'All right, but only if you — '
She darted back into the nook under the statue, her white cloak blending with the shadowed snow.
Fyn spun around to see Feldspar enter the clearing. Desperate to hide Piro's presence, Fyn went around the statue to meet him.
'You found it!' Feldspar reached him, gaze drawn to the Fate in his hands. 'I confess I didn't think you had it in you. You must present it to the mystics master.'
And have his mind searched? Fyn shuddered. He could not hide anything from Master Catillum. He would betray Piro for sure. A solution came to him and he thrust the Fate towards Feldspar. 'You take it. I don't have enough Affinity to be a mystic.'
'Then how did you find it?'
'Lucky chance.'
'Not chance, fate!' Feldspar studied the spinning opal with obvious longing, but he made no move to touch it. 'I admit, I had hoped I'd be the one. But if not, then I'm glad it's you. Have you looked in it yet? The vision is your reward.'
Torn by conflicting emotions, Fyn stared into the opal's strange surface. As it spun on the end of the chain the spiral shell turned, glinting in the light: green, blue, the occasional flash of red. What was his Fate? What should he do?
Bright colours glimmered. A noble feast. A girl with tilted, liquid eyes and no eyebrows, a sweet-faced girl, whose expression was schooled to betray nothing, but underneath it he could sense her fear and a deep sadness.
Stranger still, he felt as if he knew her.
'Fyn?' Feldspar nudged him. 'What did you see?'
'A girl.'
Feldspar groaned. 'Some mystic you'll make. Monks are supposed to be celibate.'
Shame flared hot in Fyn. He shoved the pendant into his friend's hands. 'You're right. I'm a fraud. You take it.'
Feldspar had to take it or drop it. He held up the sacred Fate, staring into the opal's iridescent surface. 'I can't. I — '
'You found it, Feldspar? I always said you'd be mystics master one day!' Lonepine joined them, grinning with delight. Then he mimed a blow to Fyn's head. 'I left Hawkwing with a headache that'll stop him enjoying tonight's feast. Now we must get back to sound the horn!'
Feldspar met Fyn's gaze, torn between honour and desire. His eyes held a question.
'I want you to present it to the master,' Fyn told him firmly. He had to protect Piro, no matter what it cost him.
'Only if that is what you truly want,' Feldspar whispered.
'Of course we do!' Lonepine rolled his eyes. 'What's holding you back? Come on!'
Lonepine headed off towards the island's shore.
'I'd rather I'd found it myself,' Feldspar whispered.
Fyn understood exactly how he felt. This time Piro had gone too far.
'Byren?' Queen Myrella beckoned.
He left Garzik and Orrade to join the queen. Her companions, women of the noble and great merchant families of Rolencia, moved away politely.
'Mother?' Byren knelt next to his mother's chair so that their conversation would be private. There were dark circles under the queen's beautiful black eyes and hollows under her cheekbones. With a start Byren wondered if his mother was sickening for something. Concerned, he placed his hand over hers, small and cold. 'How can I help?'
She smiled and glanced down, covering his hand and squeezing his fingers. But when she looked up her mouth was tight with worry again. 'Do you know where Piro is? She told me she was coming down early with Seela, but she wasn't here when I arrived. I just know Piro is up to something. '
He'd been wondering where his sister was. 'You know how she hates royal duties. She's probably off playing with her foenix. She's only a child.'
'In a year and a half she'll be fifteen. I was betrothed to your father at eight and married at fifteen. Besides, this is Fyn's chance to prove himself. She'd never fail him.'
His mother was right. Byren was torn between annoyance with Piro's thoughtlessness and fear for her safety. 'You want me to look for her?'
The tightness across his mother's forehead and around her eyes relaxed. 'Do you mind?'
He patted her hand. 'Of course not.'
But when he went to rise, she held onto his fingers.
'Search the guildhall below. She knows what we have planned so she should be here by now. She's probably hiding downstairs, sulking because I snapped at her this morning.'
He nodded, yet his mother still did not release his hand. He waited. She seemed to have trouble framing her thoughts.
'What is it, Mother?'
'When this is over, do something for me?'
He smiled. 'Anything.'
'Go hunting with your brother.'
'That's no hardship.' He laughed, secretly amazed that his mother should be aware of a rift he was only just discovering. 'What — '
'It is hard to be the king-in-waiting,' the queen whispered. 'It looks like your father will live another twenty or thirty years, with Halcyon's blessing. Having no real power but many boring duties, Lence watches you. You have a way with people. Everyone likes you and he can't help wondering if you will end up king instead of him.'
Byren snorted. 'But I'd only inherit if Lence died. Surely you're not suggesting…'
His mother frowned, watching him intently.
He felt the beginnings of a headache and tried to remember what he'd been saying. 'Freezing Sylion. I don't want to be kingsheir!'
The headache passed and his mother looked relieved. 'No, Byren, you don't. But maybe the people would prefer you to Lence, and that worries him.'
Frustration welled up in Byren. 'I don't see what I can — '
'Take a step back. Don't put yourself forward so much. Let Lence shine.'
He was already doing that, not that his mother knew.
'If I hadn't killed the leogryf, Lence would be dead and I'd be kingsheir,' he muttered, struck by the injustice of it all.
Garzik hurried over to them. 'Some acolytes are heading back from Ruin Isle!' He peered across the lake. 'I swear… yes, one of them is Fyn!'
Queen Myrella released Byren's hand and gave him a gentle push. 'Go. And think on what I've said.'