'I know. I know.' Piro hugged her, rubbing Isolt's back until the crying eased. Then Piro lowered her head so that her lips were near Isolt's ear. 'It looks like we are going to Merofynia without Fyn's help.'
Isolt nodded, and whispered, 'I thought we were safe on Mage Isle.'
'That's what Tyro thought, too,' Piro said, glancing resentfully to the locked door. She caught Isolt's eye. 'Someone's listening.'
Now her Affinity helped her. Why hadn't it warned her of the kidnapping? Of course, the Utlander had cloaked his intentions. Besides, she had been focused on Isolt and Fyn's plans.
'I'm glad they came for us after Fyn had left,' Isolt whispered. 'He would have died trying to protect us.'
'He will come for us. Nothing will stop him.'
Isolt nodded, her cheeks flushed with colour. Satiny black eyes met Piro's, as Isolt deliberately raised her voice. 'I'm glad you are with me, Seela.'
Piro squeezed her hand. It was lucky Fyn had insisted his rescue of Isolt back in Merofynia should look like a kidnapping. Now, even if they suspected, no one was sure if Isolt had changed allegiances. 'You must be happy to be going home, kingsdaughter.'
'Oh, I am,' Isolt agreed. 'If the Utlander's men had only told us they were coming to take me home, I would have jumped into their boat!'
Piro smiled.
Fyn walked the wyvern around the deck. She seemed to enjoy the sun and sea air, and was picking up after only three days despite the severity of her wound.
'Never thought I'd see the day we carry a wyvern as a passenger!' Bantam muttered.
Fyn smiled at his grumbling. 'Careful. You'll hurt her feelings.'
'Is it true this Affinity beast tried to save the kingsdaughter's life?' Jakulos asked, scratching the wyvern behind her horn nubs. She tilted her head, eyes closing as she enjoyed the sensation.
'Loyal as they come.' Fyn scratched her throat.
'I always suspected Nefysto was serving the mage,' Bantam admitted. As they crossed the midship, Bantam paused and nodded to the captain's open cabin door, where they could see Nefysto and Tyro consulting the maps. 'Should have jumped ship and signed on to an honest sea-hound who was out for nothing but profit. This playing of Kingdoms will be the death of us.'
'At least we have the mage backing us up,' Jakulos said.
'So speaks a man who knows nothing of Power-workers!' Bantam said and spat over the side.
Fyn winced, the memory of his confrontation with the Mulcibar mystic still fresh in his mind. 'Jaku is right. If we have to work with renegades, the mage is the most powerful and, more importantly, the most honourable.'
Byren hung from the bars of his cage, doing chin-ups, legs bent so he could rest his full weight on his arms. It was the darkest part of the night and he was too cold to sleep. It had rained earlier, and consequently he was soaked through, despite his cage being hung from the lowest branch of a giant linden tree. Half a body length below the cage, starlight glinted in puddles of rain water.
Different street urchins, or the same one in different costumes, had slipped him food each day, and Duke Palatyne had been too busy to taunt him. As long as Byren did not take a chill, he would be ready when the moment came to break out.
A scurry of movement at the courtyard entrance caught his attention. As he watched, the figure crept from the wall shadow to the linden tree's shadow, then to his cage.
'Byren?'
He knew that voice. 'Orrie?' Too overcome to speak, he reached through the cage, clutched his friend and pulled him into a hug. 'I thought you'd drowned.'
'Can't drown me. I was born with a caul…' Orrade broke off and pulled back a little, though he didn't release Byren. 'Father didn't want it known, didn't want to give me up to the abbey.'
'Wasn't Nun Willowtea the midwife?'
Orrade nodded. 'When I was born Father had already lost three sons.'
Byren laughed softly. He never would have guessed the Old Dove capable of convincing an abbey healer to break the law. 'So you would have developed Affinity eventually?'
'Something would have triggered it. Listen, Byren. Cobalt has attacked the spar. So far Feid's held him off at the pass fort but what's left of your army are captives on Foenix Spar. I'm here to get you out.'
'What of Florin? Is she safe?'
'I don't know. She — '
'Who goes there?' a guard demanded. Torches flared as a dozen guardsmen hurried from their posts.
Orrade spun around, knocked the man to the ground, darted between two others, then ran straight up the right-angle bend in the courtyard wall like a monkey. He'd always been nimble, but that was remarkable.
'What was that?' someone asked, after making the sign to ward off evil.
'An acrobat, nothing more,' the leader of the guards snapped. 'Don't just stand there. Go after him.'
Several guards ran out the courtyard, while the leader raised his torch so that he could see Byren's face.
'So your men came for you? Don't get your hopes up, pretender. Duke Palatyne has the palace and its courtyard tied up tighter than an Ostronite merchant's purse. Nothing gets in and out without his say so.'
'Then who was that?'
'A performing monkey, something to keep my men on their toes.' He spat. 'They'll be even more vigilant after this. Go back to bed, your majesty!'
And he walked off laughing, calling to his men to sweep the courtyard and surrounding streets.
Byren huddled to keep warm. He was not disheartened. Orrade lived… more than that, he was here. Orrade would help him escape. All they needed was a diversion to set him free.
Piro waited with Isolt in the ship's cabin as their vessel docked with the morning tide. Isolt had been supplied with clothes suitable for her station and Piro was dressed as befitted the future queen's maid.
If they could just escape, they'd run to Lord Dunstany's residence. His servants could hide them.
The Utlander and half a dozen warriors arrived to escort them off the ship. There was no chance to escape as they were led to a waiting carriage and the Utlander climbed in with them. Isolt's features settled into her Merofynian court face. With her high forehead, plucked brows and tilted back eyes, she was beautiful as a porcelain doll, and she gave nothing away.
The carriage swayed when it turned a corner. They could hear the noises of the city stirring. Piro felt Isolt stiffen.
'This is not the way to my father's palace.'
'No. It is the way to your betrothed's townhouse. You told me your dearest wish was to see him upon landing,' the Utlander informed her.
Isolt said nothing, her lips compressed. Piro wondered if there was some way she could get a message to Dunstany's servants.
The carriage rolled through arched gates into a private courtyard. As the carriage door opened, Piro climbed out and looked up to see a four-storey building, all faux columns and windows. Servants scurried to let Palatyne know they were there.
The Utlander marched straight in, his half-dozen warriors escorting them. Glorious artifacts littered Palatyne's mansion. Paintings, carpets, statues and golden plates were stacked on tables and floors as if the owner had collected trophies and never had time to sort them.
Isolt and Piro exchanged uneasy looks. Ahead of them, the Utlander scurried down a corridor. A servant threw open a tall door to reveal a long room, patches of early morning sunlight glistening on the marble floor. Palatyne was seated at a table breaking his fast with honeyed mead and hot beef. Despite the silk dressing gown and aristocratic setting, there was no mistaking his spar origins, as he tore into the meat with strong white teeth, grease dripping onto the mahogany table. Without a word to the girls, the Utlander took a seat at the massive table. No one offered them a seat, or food.