The King's bastard

'You'll be a monk soon and girls will be the last thing on your mind.' Lence grinned. 'Or do the monks get around their vow of chastity?'

Fyn's face went bright red.

'Hey, Byren, let's get a girl for Fyn before he gives up the world. With his pretty face it shouldn't be too hard to find one who'll lift her skirts.' There was a hard edge to Lence's laughter that Byren didn't like or understand. Was Lence angry because he'd been forced to give up Elina? Byren wondered how he would feel if he had to watch Elina take another man for her lover, or, worse, her husband. With a jolt he realised that he hadn't given up hope. Not yet. Somehow he would win her trust, win her back.

Fyn went to turn away.

Lence caught his arm. 'So you think yourself too good for the rest of us, master monk?'

'Leave him alone, Lence. Fyn never asked to be a monk!' Byren snapped. 'More importantly, if Fyn saw a vision in Halcyon's Fate, then he should be the one the mystics master accepts, not his friend. Why don't you go to the mystics master, Fyn?'

Lence let Fyn go. 'Well?'

Fyn did not meet their eyes. 'It was an accident. Feldspar dropped the Fate. I picked it up and the vision came. Much as I'd like to be the one, Feldspar deserves his place with the mystics.'

Byren frowned. Fyn was lying about something.

Lence snorted. 'I don't know about you, but I'd rather be a warrior than a mystic!'

Fyn stared at Lence, the gulf between them obvious to Byren. Lence's top lip curled. Quickly, Byren retrieved the miniature from Fyn saying, 'here's your locket, Lence.'

It made him realise he had been doing this sort of thing for a while now, diverting Lence, smoothing things over. He couldn't remember when it had started, only that it had become second nature to him. He turned to Fyn. 'Your throw, pick a knife.'

Fyn stepped over to the weapon display and selected a knife.

'Yes, take your throw,' Lence urged. 'Let's see what you're made of.'

Byren's stomach knotted.

Fyn lifted his knife, but before he could take aim the door to the hall flew open and their father stalked in.

'I swear I'll throttle that girl when I catch her. Do you know what your sister's done now? Thrown away a year's negotiation with the warlord of Cockatrice Spar!' His gaze settled on Fyn. 'Do you know where she is?'

'I don't know, Father. I've been here, with Lence and Byren.'

'That's right,' Byren said.

'Well, don't just stand there. Go find her!' King Rolen roared. 'I'll be waiting at the war table. Curse her for a wyvern's whelp!'

'You two go,' Lence said. 'I must tell father about the assassination attempt.'

'What?' King Rolen muttered, then glanced swiftly to Fyn.

'Fyn came upon us in the middle of it. Because of him the swordsmen fled,' Byren explained. 'Three of them armed, and us with nothing but our ceremonial daggers, in Rolenton itself!'

'Bold and confident,' King Rolen muttered. He focused on Lence. 'Are you all right, lad?'

'Of course.' Lence laughed but it was not a happy sound.

Byren glanced to his father, who appeared not to notice the undertone of anger. Was he the only one who heard it?

'If Byren had been two minutes later he would have been kingsheir now,' Lence said.

King Rolen's worried eyes turned to Byren, who shrugged this aside. 'I was lucky to be in the right spot at the right time. Come on, Fyn. Don't forget to tell father about the cockatrice cloak, Lence.'

As he led Fyn outside Byren remembered that their father had been the younger son and he had only inherited the throne after his older brother died on the battle field. Byren shuddered. Hopefully Lence would live to a ripe old age and have many sons.

'Be glad you've been gifted to the abbey,' he told Fyn as they stopped outside the chamber door. 'Right, we'd better split up to find Piro.'

Piro had run straight to her foenix only to have her old nurse catch her kneeling there. The only other surviving menagerie beast, the unistag, gave voice as if to warn her. Turning from the waist, Piro watched Seela approach with a sinking sensation.

'There you are!' Seela cried, wringing her hands. 'Your father is stalking around the castle bellowing for you. What have you done, child?'

'It was awful, Seela. I saw Father's death!'

Seela's face registered surprise, then went slack with shock and Piro realised she'd given herself away.

She sprang to her feet, clutching her old nurse's hands. 'You mustn't tell anyone. Please, don't — '

'Of course not. What do you take me for?' Seela demanded.

Stopped midstream, Piro gaped, then simply accepted her old nurse's assurance, focusing on the most important thing. 'I must warn Father. I can't let him be killed!'

'Warn him and he'll want to know how you know.'

Again, Piro stopped to think. 'I'll say it was a dream.'

'Unless you say it was a foretelling dream sent by the gods through your Affinity, he'll dismiss it.'

She was right. Piro's shoulders sagged and she searched her old nurse's face. 'What can I do, Seela?'

'It's time you knew, Pirola.'

'Knew what?'

Seela's sad dark eyes settled on her. 'Your mother's Affinity came on her at around the same age — '

'Mother? But — '

Seela nodded sadly. 'It was about a year before her wedding. We hid her growing Affinity, Myrella and I. We were doing fine until her father came for the wedding.'

'King Merofyn the Fifth?'

'Yes. After the marriage Myrella had a vision. She saw her father dying on the deck of his ship, killed by Utland pirates. She begged him not to sail back to Merofynia, to take the overland route, but she couldn't tell him why.

'If she had, the marriage would have been annulled and war would have resulted. So Myrella let her father set sail to his death. He never reached Merofynia and your mother has kept her Affinity hidden all this time.'

'You're saying I shouldn't warn Father, that I should let him walk into a trap?' Piro shook her head, backing up a step.

'What if it is a false vision? You have no way of knowing, not without consulting the abbey mystics. What if you have misinterpreted it?' Seela pressed.

Piro licked dry lips. Before today, her Affinity had helped her find lost possessions and guess which Unknowable card would turn up. It had never frightened her. Now it made her cold with fear.

She could still taste the evil fumes on the back of her throat and, when she closed her eyes, she could still see the wyvern about to tear her father's head from his shoulders. Her stomach clenched. She squeezed her eyes shut. Tears slid down her cheeks. Brushing them away angrily, she refused to believe that her Affinity made her a channel for evil. This must be a message from the gods.

The vile taste had to mean that Rejulas might appear sweet but he was not to be trusted. And the wyvern's attack meant that Merofynia threatened… but it couldn't, not when Lence had just been betrothed to Isolt.

Piro began to pace, aware of Seela watching her. Perhaps she was mistaken, and these messages were the cruel jests of evil powers. Was the goddess angry with her for profaning the Proving today?

Her head spun and she sank to sit on the lower fence rail of the unistag's pen. He came to her, leaning over the top rail to nuzzle her head, his velvety stag's muzzle soft on the back of her neck. She rubbed his throat, taking comfort in his warm coat. He was looking for Affinity, which she usually let him lick off her fingers but, after the vision, she was drained of power. A part of her wanted to run to the abbess right now and ask the mystics mistress if her visions could be trusted. If she did, the abbess would claim her for Sylion Abbey and she couldn't bear that.

'Your father is in a fury. You must find him and apologise,' Seela urged. 'Swallow your pride, kingsdaughter, and marry a barbarian warlord. Because…' She broke off suddenly.