'Right.' Byren turned to the two monks. 'Can you run?'
'We ran behind the horses since lunch time,' the skinny one with a protruding Adam's apple said. 'But we can run if we have to.'
Byren headed for the door, throwing it open, only to find Cobalt's imposter there with a half a dozen men at his back. He slammed it shut, but not before one of them got his shoulder into the gap.
'Out the back,' Byren yelled.
But before Florin could get the monks out the kitchen door, it opened and several soot-stained men came running in. Seeing the monks free, they charged.
'To the stairs,' Byren yelled.
Florin ran, the Merofynians at her heels. Byren followed, slashing at the nearest warrior, who tried to block his way. Then he was running up the dim stairwell, expecting a knife in his back at any moment.
At the top of the steps Florin ran down the hall, thrusting doors open.
'The one on the right,' Byren yelled.
She darted inside, followed by the monks. Byren joined them, slamming the door shut, cutting off the vision of Merofynians tearing down the narrow hall towards them.
'Help me drag the chest of drawers,' Florin gasped.
The monks took over and she directed them to shove it against the door. Meanwhile, Byren thrust the window open.
The yard was empty.
The chest of drawers jerked as men threw their weight at the door.
'It's not going to hold,' Florin said.
Byren beckoned. 'Over here. Quickly.' The monks joined him. 'Out the window, slide down the thatch, jump to the ground.'
They nodded, the skinny one going first, then the other. The chest of drawers screeched as it was shoved aside.
Florin glanced back to Byren. 'You go. I'll cover you.'
But Byren wasn't having that. He swept her off her feet and dropped her out the window, onto the roof. She slid down and off the end with a cry of annoyance.
The door burst open behind him. Byren swung his leg over the sill and let go. The last thing he saw was five men racing into the room, swords drawn. Then he was sliding down the thatch. He hit the ground with his knees bent. His stomach protested, reminding him it wasn't so long since he'd been wounded.
Orrade rode up bare-back, leading three horses. The monks clambered onto one, riding double. Florin scrambled atop another horse. Byren reached for the last one, but it danced away, frightened. Someone crashed off the roof behind him, crying in pain as he landed badly. Another followed. By then, Byren was astride the horse and headed across the ford, into the forest.
From there, it was a mad dash through the night on starlit tracks, as the sounds of pursuit faded. Twenty minutes later, Orrade called a halt and the horses snorted and stamped, shivering with excitement.
Byren met his friend's eyes with a laugh. 'Your arrival was well timed.'
'The whole thing was a disaster!' Orrade muttered. 'I don't know where our people are. Hopefully, they ambushed a few Merofynians, then melted into the trees.'
'We're safe for now,' Byren said. 'Their horses are scattered. But they'll be furious. I hope the villagers got away…'
He craned his head. They were on the crest of a ridge. Through the tree canopy, he could see the glow of flames. More than just the stable was burning. 'I think the Merofynians have taken their anger out on Waterford itself.'
Orrade urged his horse closer. 'You're right. Nothing will be left standing. Which means…'
'Another thirty hungry mouths to feed, if they get away safe. Mostly women and children.' Byren sighed. 'Can't be helped. The Merofynians will be searching the foothills but they don't know the tracks like the locals do.'
'Still, this was too close.' Orrade swung his leg over his mount and slid to the ground. 'We don't want the horses. Much better to go on foot. Hide our trail.'
Byren dismounted and went to offer Florin his help before he could stop himself. It was his mother's courtly training. Not that Florin knew that. She saw it as an insult. With a toss of her head, she leapt lightly to the ground.
For some reason this annoyed Byren. 'You nearly got yourself killed back there. Since when does a mountain girl know better than her king? What were you doing, disobeying a direct order?'
Startled by his anger, her eyes widened. Then she tilted her chin and he just knew she was going to back-chat him.
He wanted to grab her and shake her. 'If I give an order I expect it to be obeyed.'
For a heartbeat she stared at him, defiance in the line of her mouth. Byren feared she would openly defy him and then what would he do? Her pride was so prickly. He shouldn't have pushed her.
Before Florin could overstep the line, Byren turned around… to find the two monks kneeling at his feet.
'Byren Kingsheir,' they chorused, slightly out of time. 'We come to serve — '
'Yes, yes. No time for that now.' Byren took their arms and hauled them to their feet. 'You're lucky we were there…' He broke off, because he didn't know their names.
'Feldspar,' the skinny one supplied.
'Joff,' the other said. 'You were at the Hearing, back at midwinter, when — '
'Now I remember. Your Affinity came on you late, and the villagers were angry with your father for keeping it hidden.' He hesitated. It had all seemed so cut and dried then. Now he worked alongside Catillum and dreaded discovery. 'Have you heard from Fyn?'
The two monks exchanged looks.
'We thought he'd be with you,' Feldspar said. 'He left us at the base of Mount Halcyon, headed back to Rolenhold to warn your father that the abbey had fallen.'
'Same old news,' Orrade muttered.
Byren hid his concern. 'Right, we'd better get moving. Orrie, you bring up the rear. Florin, you take the lead. You know the paths.'
Her eyes glittered strangely in the starlight and, when she spoke, her voice was husky. 'Of course, my king.'
She'd never called him that before.
With a jolt, Byren realised she meant it as an insult. Before he could think of a thing to say, she turned and strode off, long legs eating up the distance. At Byren's signal, the two monks hurried after her.
Byren met Orrade's eyes.
'Looks like you've angered Mountain-girl,' Orrade muttered.
'Don't you start. If she wants to be treated like a warrior, she has to act like one.'
Orrade raised one eyebrow.
Byren stomped off after the others. He was justified. If any of his honour guard disobeyed a direct order, he'd discipline them.
But Florin wasn't like his honour guard. There was only one of her and he hadn't handled her well at all.
Chapter Nine
Piro watched Isolt as servants fussed over the kingsdaughter arranging her hair in an elaborate coiffure. Since Dunstany left, she'd been trying to see behind the court mask to the vulnerable young woman who, according to the noble scholar, needed a friend. But Isolt had her flawless mask securely in place.
When they woke this morning, a servant had delivered the message that Duke Palatyne requested a meeting with the kingsdaughter. Isolt had set a time, making him wait until mid-afternoon.
Presented in the height of Merofynian fashion — her face powdered pale, her eyes and lips painted, her hair pulled back to reveal her high forehead, a circlet of sapphires resting on her head, one large sapphire hanging on her forehead — Isolt regarded Piro coldly. 'Do you have anything to say, slave?'
Yes — unspoken words jostled to be unleashed — you let your father betrothe you to my brother so he could invade our kingdom while we were unprepared. Now, half my family are dead and the other half are missing.
There were so many things to say, Piro could only shake her head. Since the stuffed wyvern and foenix had been presented, Isolt had withdrawn, as though she regretted letting her guard down with Piro.