Rowena Daniells - The uncrowned King

Though he was only half-turned towards her, he leapt, cat-light, out of her strike path. The queen let the sword's momentum carry her around in a circle, springing forwards and bringing the blade down in a diagonal blow that would have severed his head from his shoulders had he not darted sideways again.

The blow took him on the shoulder joint of his armour, slicing clean through, severing his arm. Stunned, he stood there, blood pumping from the stump. The queen continued the arc of the strike, bringing the great sword around for the killing blow.

Piro understood the problem. Her mother was a small woman. The weapon was almost too heavy for her to hold, once it had momentum she could only guide it.

This blow would have surely killed Cobalt, but one of Palatyne's warriors sprang in behind her, running the queen through. Pinned upright, she stood stunned as the sword flew from her hands. People dived out of its path. It clattered on the stone, loud in the terrible silence.

Piro whimpered.

Her mother stared at the blade which protruded between her breasts.

'Myrella?' Illien cried. He'd clamped his remaining hand over the stump of his arm, despite this, he bled copiously, swayed and dropped to his knees.

Piro's sight wavered from the Seen to the Unseen, triggered by the gathering of her mother's innate Affinity.

The queen stiffened. One hand lifted to point at Palatyne and her eyes rolled back in her head. 'You will die, knowing you have lost everything.'

Triggered by her mother's words, Piro saw Palatyne on his knees, the twin amfina heads writhing as one turned on the other.

'You will die at the hands of my children,' the queen said. 'Piro Kingsdaughter, I call on — '

'By the mother of all amfinas, she's radiating Affinity!' Palatyne came to life, springing back behind his advisors. 'Stop her before she can curse me!'

Before Dunstany could move, the Utland Power-worker swung the carved tip of his staff so that it connected with the tip of the sword that pierced the queen's chest. Unable to look away, Piro watched as the last remnants of her mother's Affinity-driven life force were drawn out of her into the staff's greedy stone tip.

The logical part of her brain told her that the carving had to be made from some kind of sorbt stone, something the mystics of Rolencia had not discovered yet, or perhaps kept a secret.

The Utlander tilted the staff upright and slammed its base into the floor. The carved tip glowed with power and the queen dropped like an empty husk, her essence and Affinity now the Utlander's captive.

Hollowed out, fragile as glass, Piro stepped back into the safety of a darkened archway. She wanted to run down the stairs and across the hall, and smash that stone so her mother could have a clean death, but that would mean her own death. She stood poised on her toes, outrage warring with self-preservation.

Common sense won out.

Palatyne straightened, daring to step closer to the fallen queen. 'She's safe?'

'Her Affinity's settled,' the Utlander confirmed.

Yes, cannibalised by him! A surge of fury strengthened Piro's fragile limbs.

Palatyne bent down and dragged the royal emblem from around the queen's neck, dropping it over his own head to join the others.

Piro touched hers. It felt like a brand, emblazoned with her identity, condemning her to death.

Cobalt moaned, still swaying on his knees, clutching the bloody stump of his arm.

Palatyne studied him for a moment, and Piro felt Cobalt's life hang in the balance.

'Save him if you can. I can still use him.' Palatyne turned his back on the injured man and beckoned Cobalt's new servant, the one who Piro was sure was also a Merofynian spy for, the day her mother was arrested, she had seen the flash of a wyvern tail in the back of his mind when he confronted her on the stairs.

As the Utland Power-worker organised three men-at-arms to carry Cobalt away, Palatyne confronted Cobalt's servant.

'Has there been word of the kingson?' Palatyne asked, his hand going to his chest to stroke the three royal emblems that lay there.

Three?

Piro's heart faltered. Her mother and father's. Whose was the third?

Not Fyn, he was safe at the abbey. If Lence had been at Dovecote then he'd have been in Palatyne's path. If one of her twin brothers were to die, let it be Lence!

Piro experienced a surge of guilt.

'Byren Kingson has not been heard of since he was sent to bring help from Halcyon Abbey,' the man reported.

'Don't worry about him. What of Pirola?' Palatyne demanded. 'The kingsdaughter?'

'It was thought she had been sent to Sylion Abbey, but Cobalt recognised her hiding amongst the townsfolk.'

'You know her face?'

He nodded.

'Go to the gate. I've ordered the townsfolk sent back to Rolenton. If she gets past you, I'll have your head. Understand?'

The man nodded, his face growing pale.

As he scurried off, Palatyne turned to the servants. 'Is she hiding amongst you lot? Come on, give her up!'

No one spoke. They froze, staring at him like rabbits enthralled by a snake.

He threw back his head and laughed.

A voice piped up in the echo of his laugh. 'It takes a brave man to kill defenceless women and children.'

Piro winced as she recognised the blind spit-turner.

Palatyne nodded to his men, who dragged the old man over to the overlord. 'Repeat that.'

'I said, it takes a brave man to murder women and children,' he said, voice wavering only with age.

'What would you know? You can't even see!'

'I don't need eyes to see into your heart. Your men must be blind to follow — '

His words died on his lips as Palatyne thrust a hunting knife through his heart. The overlord kicked the body aside dismissively but Piro could tell the blind man's words had made the men uneasy.

'Tonight we break open barrels of the castle's best Rolencian red to celebrate in King Merofyn's name!' Palatyne roared. 'But first — a bag of gold for the man who brings me the kingsdaughter, dead or alive.'

Dozens of them scrambled to do his bidding.

As if freed from a spell, Piro turned and fled, cursing the rich embroidered gown which proclaimed her status.

She knew the castle intimately. As a child she'd played hide-and-seek with her brothers. Now, moving on soundless feet, she ran down the storage passage, heading for her usual hiding places. Then she stopped.

Hiding was pointless. Eventually she would have to come out for food. Palatyne's men would search until they found her.

What could she do?

Men yelled, their voices coming closer as they slammed doors and thundered up stairs searching room by room. This was her nightmare come true. The dreams had become reality. She should have been forewarned!

No time for regrets.

Desperate, Piro sprinted down the long corridor, darting through a stillroom into the castle laundry beyond. Here she almost tripped over a girl, whose head lay at a funny angle.

Piro turned her over. Someone must have struck her — her nose was broken. The lower half of her face was obscured by blood. Piro felt the girl's throat. No pulse. Then she noticed the overturned chair and the narrow window. The poor thing had been trying to climb out when her chair tipped and she had fallen, breaking her neck.

Biting back a sob of despair, Piro ran on, but in the storeroom beyond she caught sight of men tossing aside cured meats and smashing preserves as they searched.

Trapped.

Ducking back into the laundry, Piro stood over the slight, dark-haired girl, thinking furiously. Palatyne had sent his men to bring back King Rolen's daughter. Here was a dead girl of the right age.

Her own life hung in the balance. This was no time to be squeamish.

The poor girl's skirt and shirt weren't bloodied, but the apron was. Piro flung off her own red gown, then knelt and undid the girl's garments, begging her forgiveness for this desecration.