Rowena Daniells - The uncrowned King

The man beamed.

But his initiative would be wasted. Those honour guard who had remained loyal to Byren had come to save him at Dovecote and, if any of them survived, they would already be with Orrade in the mountains. A stab of pain hit Byren — they had lost Garzik that night. At fourteen Orrade's little brother had wanted to become a warrior and serve Byren, who had sent him to his death.

He was a failure over and over.

Because Byren hadn't returned to the castle with the warrior monks, no one at Rolenhold would believe he'd remained loyal, that is if anyone who knew him still lived. He couldn't imagine Captain Temor dropping his sword and surrendering to the Merofynians. Sorrow too deep for tears settled on him, smothering him in a blanket of despair.

He hoped Miron made it safely back to his father in the mountains. He knew only too well how rash boys on the verge of manhood could be. Poor Garzik.

They left Sylion's oratory and residence behind. At the end of the single street of empty dwellings the dyer embraced the healer, and Byren was struck by the resemblance as they parted. They were family separated by Affinity, he guessed.

The dyer had already done more than he needed to, risking his thirteen-year-old son twice for Rolencia. As soon as Byren was well enough he'd strike out on his own.

And then it hit Byren. His family were all dead and his home taken. The dyer expected Byren, King Rolen's only surviving kin, to raise an army in the mountains and retake Rolencia, but how could one man hope to achieve so much? Why would anyone follow him, when his own father had died believing him a traitor?

Elbow-deep in bread dough, Piro was grateful for the warmth of the kitchen. All day she had helped the cook, under Soterro's watchful eye. At first light Dunstany had been called up to the castle to treat Cobalt, who'd developed a fever. If she was lucky, Cobalt would die.

When she thought of Dunstany up there with Palatyne and the Utlander, she was surprised by a pang of concern for him.

It was evening now and they were expecting the noble scholar's return any moment. Piro planned to stay long enough to hear if there had been news of Byren, and then escape.

They shared the rear courtyard with several other fine houses, and there were four narrow lanes that led out to the main street. She was reasonably certain she could knock Grysha unconscious long enough for her to make it out into Rolenton. From there, well, she knew the town and they did not.

She twisted the bread dough into small lumps and dropped the raw buns onto the tray, careful not to look interested in what the others were saying. Grysha had been sent to buy supplies. Soterro and the cook had been helping themselves to the master's wine again and, believing she could not understand Merofynian, did not bother to guard their tongues.

'We'll be off home soon,' Soterro was saying. 'About time, too. The old king won't last long.'

The cook noticed Piro had finished. 'Brush the buns with milk and sprinkle cinnamon and sugar on the top.' He switched back to Merofynian. 'Palatyne'll be eager to get back to the king. After this victory the old man's sure to offer him a dukedom!'

'There's many a slip 'twixt cup and lip.' Soterro grimaced. 'Palatyne trusts no one, especially not our master. Dunstany's noble born and bred and the overlord can't forgive him that, not when he comes from the wrong side of the Divide.'

'Put them into the bread oven, girl. We want the buns for supper tonight, not next summer!' the cook snapped, then turned to Soterro, returning to Merofynian. 'But when Palatyne is a duke no one will remember where he was born.'

'I don't think he plans to stop at duke.' Soterro's voice was heavy with meaning.

Cook's eyes widened.

The bell rang, signalling Dunstany's return. Soterro went to answer his summons. Just then there was a knock at the kitchen door.

'Don't stand there daydreaming, girl. Wash your arms, take off that grubby apron and answer the door!' Cook told Piro.

She hurried to obey. Opening the door she faced her old nurse with a tray of hot pies. Piro stifled a gasp.

'Hot pies, lovely hot pies for sale,' old Seela sang in a fair imitation of a street-seller. 'A copper a pie!'

'Hmm. What have you got?' The cook hurried over to take a look. He sniffed. 'They smell good. But my master expects the best.'

'There's eel, steak and kidney, steak and peas, bacon and chicken — '

'We'll take one of each. And if they're not up to standard you won't be getting my lord's custom again!'

The cook went out of the room to where he hid his money, to count out his coins.

'Bless me. It's good to see you, Piro,' her old nurse whispered. 'Quick now, while he's away, out the door — '

'I can't. Lord Dunstany just came back and he may have news of Byren.'

Before they could argue, the cook returned and counted out the coins as Piro transferred the pies to the table.

'If these are good we'll take some more tomorrow. Do you have any sweet pies, apple or blueberry?'

Her old nurse nodded. 'Whatever you wish.'

Piro hid a smile. The castle pastry cook was renowned for her pies. She'd be horrified to know they were being sold for a copper each.

'I'll be back tomorrow, then,' Seela said, catching Piro's eye meaningfully, before heading off.

'Well, shut the door, girl, you're letting the cold in!' the cook snapped. Just then Soterro returned. 'What news?'

'Mulled wine for two. The overlord's with him.'

Piro's heart skipped a beat. Another missed opportunity to poison Palatyne because she hadn't stolen the hellsbane. She should steal some tomorrow and kill Palatyne first chance she got.

Yes, that's what she would do. Then she'd run away.

Relieved to have a plan, Piro put cheese and bread on a plate while Cook checked the spiced wine. She dried her hands then picked up the tray to follow Soterro down the short hall.

When Piro entered she found Dunstany stood by the fire listening to Palatyne. Soterro poured the drinks and was dismissed, which left Piro to wait by the sideboard.

Dunstany sipped his mulled wine, clearly enjoying the delicate mix of spices.

'…so it looks like Cobalt will make a full recovery,' Palatyne was saying. He gulped his steaming goblet. 'I could use some good news. The Utlander can't get a fix on Byren Kingson. He claims you cursed Rolen's finger, says it will point to Rolenton and nowhere else.'

'I'd be a fool to do something so obvious. No, the Utlander seeks to lay the blame for his incompetence on me. He hasn't the skill to differentiate between living and dead kin, as we saw last night.' Dunstany laughed softly and Piro looked down, hiding her triumph. If only they knew.

'So much for the Utlander. What about you, have you found Byren Kingson?' the overlord asked.

'I spent all day nursing your puppet king,' Lord Dunstany pointed out. 'I will seek the youth this very night.'

There was a clatter of booted feet in the front room and someone rapped on the connecting door, then marched straight in. A tall thin woman, wearing the white of a Cyena mystic, entered. She was young, but her hair was completely white and her eyes were pale pink. Piro had heard of such people, born without colouring, but never seen one. Just looking at the woman made her shiver.

'Overlord Palatyne.' The mystic afforded him a shallow bow. 'I bring word concerning the kingsons.'

Piro froze, then schooled her face to look blank, since she wasn't supposed to understand what was being said. Luckily no one had noticed her slip.

'Here is a list of what was found in the abbey.' The Cyena mystic nodded to one of her escort, who presented a written dispatch that Palatyne did not bother to open. Piro wondered if he had to sound out the words to read.