Rowena Daniells - The uncrowned King

He wasn't in pain but it hurt to think he would die before he could apologise to Orrade. Before he could prove his loyalty to his father. The king would live on, grieving, believing his second son had betrayed Rolencia. An ache that was not physical curled through Byren, making his throat tight and his breath catch.

The ulfr at his side gave a whimper of pain as if in sympathy with him, and he felt the other pack members shift. When another whimper followed the first, Byren understood what was happening. He had watched his prized hunting bitches whelp enough times to recognise the sounds of birth.

Carefully, he lifted his hand and rested it on the female beside him. He could feel her belly tighten like a drum as her womb contracted. The power of the seep must have brought on the birth, for usually the cubs were born in the spring and spring cusp was still a little way off.

Sprawled on his back, surrounded by ulfrs, Byren watched the pack leader take up a protective stance over the whelping female. For his hunting dogs the process was usually quick and the ulfr was no exception. Byren felt the whole pack ride the contractions with her, their whining song rising in pitch with the peak of each pain. The sound triggered a vibration through the pack's chests, a vibration of attunement. It relaxed Byren's aching chest and, with this relaxation, he found his breath came more easily.

Three more contractions and the female gave a grunt of satisfaction as she expelled the pup. It rushed out in a hot, wet slither of sound. The female wriggled around to nose the newborn and lick its snout. After a moment it whimpered, and Byren heard the distinctive snuffling as it searched for its mother's nipple. The rest of the pack nuzzled closer. The pack leader drove them back and the male shared the afterbirth with the female.

As they shifted, Byren risked lifting his head to take a quick look. The mother had licked the pup clean but its fur had not dried yet. The pup had, however, settled in place attached to one of her nipples. The pack leader watched it proudly, for all the world like a human father. And, unlike his hunting hounds, there was only one pup.

Byren felt stunned and privileged as the pack settled down, still whining softly in unison, the vibration travelling through them as if they were one great animal. He lay back and concentrated on breathing, which was not so hard now. It seemed he would last out the night. If only he could live long enough to reach Rolenhold. He willed his wound to mend. There was still so much he had to do.

Finally, he slept, warm and safe in the ulfr pack. And he dreamed he was back home in Rolenhold, visiting his mother in the solarium, only he was a child and she wept because they'd just tested little Fyn and found he had Affinity. They were preparing to take him away. Byren remembered his impotent fury. How, at ten, he had volunteered to ride across Rolencia to rescue his little brother from the monks. How he had been filled with the conviction that his father's law was wrong. Strange… why had he forgotten this?

In his dream, which he now realised was really a hidden memory, his mother placed her hand on his forehead and whispered, 'Don't, Byren! Obey your father in this, or I will lose you too.' And, as she spoke, she seemed to siphon off his roiling emotions, so that he was left feeling calmer, if not happy. And he understood why he had forgotten the moment.

He was woken by a whistle that imitated a bird call, only Byren knew that this particular bird would not be out of hibernation until after spring cusp. The sound echoed across the seep. Lifting his head ever so slightly, he brought the rim of the hollow into his range of vision.

Cloaked warrior heads dotted the rim.

Would they spot him, amidst the pack, dressed in ulfr fur? No one would expect to find a human in an ulfr pack enjoying a seep.

The ulfr leader and three of the large males came to their feet, emitting a low rumbling growl from deep in their great chests. The message was clear. Back off.

With the newborn and the seep to defend, the pack was extremely dangerous. If Byren had come upon them like this, he would have probably had his archers climb trees and pick the animals off. Luckily there were no trees lining the seep and now that very thought seemed like sacrilege to Byren.

Would he ever be able to kill another Affinity beast?

He felt himself reach for his own knife and it startled him to realise that if the Merofynians attacked, he meant to defend the ulfr pack.

But they didn't. One of them sang a chant Byren had never heard his mother sing, though he recognised some of the phrases. He gathered the Merofynians were honouring the seep, its power and the Affinity beasts.

That's right. The Merofynian attitude towards untamed Affinity was very different. They accepted it, cultivating it. Perhaps theirs was a more realistic attitude. Fighting Affinity was like trying to turn back the tide.

Then he thought of poor little Dinni, enslaved by the Utland Power-worker. No, he didn't agree with everything the Merofynians did, but then he didn't agree with his father's laws on Affinity.

The handing-over of all children born with Affinity broke up families, and confiscating the property of those who tried to hide Affinity only encouraged greed.

All this flashed through his mind as the Merofynians honoured the seep and Affinity beasts.

And then they backed off. Leaving Byren to lie in the seep, amidst the ulfr pack, riding the resonance of the pack's subtle song.

'Here's Piro Kingsdaughter,' the markiza pointed.

Two of the king's honour guard frowned at Piro. One nodded to the other. 'Bring her.'

'But I'm ringing — '

'Warning's been given. Come.'

The two servants hurried off after the markiza, as Piro was bundled out and into the main hall of the guild's meeting house.

She broke free of her captors and ran towards Captain Temor, arriving in the middle of his argument with the Ostronite merchant.

'And I say you'll be safer in Rolenhold,' Temor told the man. 'Safer than heading off across the lake in a mad scramble to outrun the Merofynians. What if the wind doesn't rise at dusk? The castle's never fallen. Come, wait it out.'

'Captain Temor.' Piro tugged on his arm.

'Hush, Piro,' Temor snapped, then turned back to the Ostronite to find the man striding off. 'On his own head be it.' Dismissing the man he turned to Piro, eyes dark under heavy grey brows. 'As for you!'

One strong hand caught Piro by the upper arm and she was dragged from the guildhall to join two dozen of the king's honour guard, who waited for their captain's orders.

Out in the square, furniture and belongings lay abandoned, as people scrambled for the safety of the castle. Piro shaded her eyes, looking up at the steep road that zig-zagged several times before reaching the gates of Rolenhold. The road was packed with people, most walking, some on carts and a few on horseback.

Shouts echoed from the wharves, the weakest point of Rolenton's defences, where the Merofynians had already broken through the town's defences.

The voices held abrasive cruelty. It rubbed across Piro's nerves, making her heart thunder uncomfortably. 'Our people will never make it in time.'

'We'll have to buy them time,' Captain Temor muttered. 'Come on.'

They pounded across the square to the road leading to Southgate, then down to the gate itself, which was only just emptying of townspeople when they reached it.

Temor beckoned one of the king's honour guard. 'Sawtree, I'm entrusting you with the kingsdaughter. Make sure she reaches the safety of the castle.'

'But — ' Sawtree began.

Merofynian warriors boiled out of the narrow lanes from the wharves and headed across the square, roaring a challenge.

'Get her to safety!' Temor snapped.