Lence made the same impatient gesture their father had used a moment before. 'But — '
'Peace means trade and prosperity, Lence,' their father insisted. 'War means death and — '
'To the victor go the spoils!'
'True,' King Rolen conceded. 'But there's no guarantee we'll be the victor. You've only ever led raids, in and out quickly, warrior against warrior. Sometimes it is enough to take their spar symbol for the warlord's men to retreat. But war…' He shook his head. 'War is brutal. At best, fields are ruined and people starve, and at worst, women and children are murdered. War turns ordinary men into monsters. Believe me, I've seen it!'
Lence snorted. 'You've grown old, father. Old and tired.'
'Lence!' Byren protested, shocked.
King Rolen blanched. His mouth settled in a grim line. 'When you've seen your brother and father writhing on the ground as they die in agony, when you've had to order the execution of a man who was your childhood friend, then you can tell me I'm a coward!'
'I never said you were a coward, Father,' Lence said, 'just old and tired. It's about time you stepped aside and let a young man — '
'Step aside?' King Rolen bellowed. 'You… you insolent wyvern! Get out of my sight!'
'But — '
'Lence,' Byren interrupted, stepping between them. Veins stood out on his father's forehead, the skin had become enflamed and his neck muscles corded. What if he had a brain spasm like the Old Dove? Byren grabbed his brother's arm. 'Come, help me find Piro.'
His twin snatched his arm free.
'This is not over,' Lence told their father, and stalked out.
Byren hesitated as the king went to follow, to have the last word, but his bad knee turned under him and Byren caught him as he fell, helping him to a chair. His father cursed fluently.
'Lence doesn't mean it,' Byren muttered.
'Yes, he does. He's young and impatient. I know what I was like at his age. I hated diplomacy. But, Byren, I'm done with war. We've had thirty years of good harvests, uninterrupted trade with both Merofynia and Ostron Isle. Nowadays the meanest crofter lives as well as a prosperous merchant did when I was a lad. I want peace and prosperity for my people. I'm not a — '
'I know, Father.' Byren straightened up. 'Should I send for one of the healers?'
'What? No. They've done their best.' Rolen rubbed his bad knee. 'I'll give Cobalt's manservant a chance to prove his boasts. Hopefully…'
Byren heard the unspoken words. Hopefully he could fix it, for King Rolen couldn't afford to look weak.
'I'd better go, catch up with Lence.'
Fyn met his brothers as he turned into the corridor that led to the war table stairwell. One of his father's honour guard stood silently at the landing at the base of the stairs, about a body length from them.
'I couldn't find Piro,' Fyn reported.
The twins barely nodded, radiating tension.
'Rejulas just marched out of Rolenhold with his warriors. Where's father?' Fyn asked. 'Does Mother know what's going on? Have you found Piro?'
'Piro's still hiding,' Lence said. 'Do you know where she is?'
Fyn shook his head. 'No. I told you I didn't.'
'If you won't help us, you might as well go back to your monks,' Lence snapped.
Fyn felt heat steal up his cheeks. The honour guard on duty studiously looked the other way. Fyn was about to protest when Lence shoved past him and walked off.
Fyn glanced at Byren, who shook his head in silent apology. Lence rounded the corner, the thump of his boots fading.
'He's not angry with you,' Byren whispered.
'With Piro. I understand. Can't Father say they've reconsidered Piro's betrothal?' Fyn lowered his voice even further. 'Cockatrice isn't the only spar.'
'No, but it is one of the most powerful. Father can't afford to let Rejulas ride off without renewing his allegiance. The warlord of Manticore Spar is only waiting for a sign of weakness to flout royal authority.'
Fyn nodded. This wasn't news to him.
Byren fixed on him. 'Can you find Piro and keep her out of sight until father calms down?'
'Of course,' Fyn said. 'What will you do?'
'I'll find Mother. She needs to know what's going on.'
Fyn nodded. He watched Byren jog after Lence then glanced up the corridor towards the stairs and the war table chamber. That was another sore point. Both he and Piro were considered too young to attend the war table. He'd been hoping that this time it would be different.
Fyn backtracked, crossed the courtyard and ran to the top of Eagle Tower. No sign of Piro. If he couldn't find her, then no one could. It looked like she had wisely decided to keep out of sight for a while.
Right now he wanted to know what was being discussed at the war table. He had a right to know. His mind made up, he left the tower.
Piro hurried along the castle corridors. She wanted to know why the alliance with warlord Rejulas was so important. As his wife, she would have inside knowledge of his plans. Why was this important to her father and brothers, when there was no threat from Merofynia? Picking up her skirts, she darted down the corridor to the base of the steps which led up to the room that housed the war table.
One of the honour guard stood there. Usually the stair was unguarded. It made her uneasy.
'Father sent for me,' she lied with a straight face. 'I think I'm in trouble.' That was true enough.
'Chin up.' He winked.
She felt a stab of guilt. All her life she had been teasing the honour guard with her tricks.
The soft soles of her good indoor slippers made almost no sound as she hurried up the steps to the next landing. Pausing to catch her breath, she crept to the door and strained to overhear her parents through the thick oak. Her heart beat uncomfortably fast.
Her mother spoke soothingly. But she could tell from her father's tone that he was furious. How was she going to explain her actions and warn him, without revealing her Affinity?
Hands grabbed her arm and covered her mouth, pulling her away from the door. She squirmed desperately as she was dragged away across the landing.
'Have you forgotten everything I taught you?' Fyn whispered.
In a flash she remembered and drove her elbow into his midriff. He grunted with pain, but did not release her, although his hand did slip from her mouth. 'Let me go. I want to know what's going on.'
'So do I, but if you make any more noise they'll hear you, as I did.'
She stopped struggling.
'Father is in a fury, Piro. Warlord Rejulas rode out of Rolenhold with his honour guard. The alliance is ruined. The other warlords are muttering amongst themselves, threatening to defy Rolencia. Father needs time to calm down,' Fyn warned softly. 'Come with me.'
He let her go and she spun to face him. 'Where to?'
Fyn signalled for silence, smiled and led her to another door. He held his finger to his lips again and she nodded impatiently. Then he opened the door to the twins' lesson room. She had never been inside, having resentfully stood at the door and wondered about the knowledge she, as a female, would never know.
Looking back now, she realised she probably had a broader and more useful education than the twins. Like them she had studied law and accounting, but her mother and Seela had also tutored her using books from Merofynia. Many were the times she had dressed up to play out roles from the history of both kingdoms.
The lesson chamber was not at all mysterious. It was cold and dim. The desks and chairs, abandoned five years ago when her brothers become men and outgrew their tutors, were covered in a thick layer of dust.
'I found this one day when Lence and Byren shut me in the cupboard,' Fyn whispered as he opened a door and stepped inside, beckoning her. Its shelves were full of inks, papers, old vellum scrolls and books. Fyn pulled some books off the shelf and pressed his ear to the wooden back of the cupboard. She did the same.