Rowena Daniells - The King's bastard

Orrade cleared his throat. 'I pray to Halcyon for success — '

'You pray for the kingson's safety,' Cobalt cut in. 'I know your secret.'

Orrade went very still. 'I don't know what you — '

Cobalt lifted the smaller man to his feet, swinging him around hard so that the carved screen creaked with the impact. Orrade was pressed against it only a hand's breadth from Byren. He went to move but they blocked the door and besides, Orrade could protect himself. Byren's name had been mentioned and he feared if he came out of the devotional box now it would confirm everything Cobalt suspected. Besides, he was shocked by Cobalt's sudden violence, which seemed so out of character.

'Don't play the innocent with me, Orrade. I've seen the way you look at him, or don't look at him,' Cobalt whispered. 'Does he know why you were disinherited?'

'I don't know what — '

Cobalt silenced him with a kiss that was not gentle. He persisted until Orrade stopped struggling, then he pulled back with a soft laugh. 'Deny all you like, your body betrays you.'

Orrade said nothing. Shame for him heated Byren's cheeks. Now he could not venture out and look them in the eye.

'Good.' Cobalt all but purred. 'I want to know what Byren is planning. You will report to me. Don't deny me.' Cobalt jerked Orrade so that his head thumped against the wood. 'I could ruin you with one word — '

'And I could ruin you!'

'I don't think so.' Cobalt smiled. 'I am the injured party, my bride and father cruelly murdered.' When he said this Byren realised he was using his supposedly injured arm to prod Orrade in the chest. 'No one will believe a word against me. But you… you have refused to reveal why you fought with your father, and you are Byren's shadow. Why, you are closer to him than his own twin!'

Orrade did not try to argue.

Cobalt released him. 'Now we understand each other. Report to me and I'll keep your secret.' His voice dropped. 'I may even reward you.'

He stepped back, his soft indoor slippers silent on the marble tiles.

Freed, Orrade lifted one hand to his mouth, staggering slightly. He stared after Cobalt's retreating back.

'I'll leave Rolencia before I betray Byren,' he called after Cobalt.

The older man stopped and turned to face him, his features barely visible in the single lamp light. 'Go, and not only will I tell King Rolen why you were disinherited, but I'll tell him Byren is your lover — '

'That's not true!'

'Truth is highly overrated,' Cobalt told him. 'King Rolen nearly lost Rolencia because of the Servants of Palos. When I was growing up, they still whispered of how he stood stone-faced during the executions. Even my father, his own half-brother, was afraid of him. Do you think the king would hesitate to order Byren's execution if it meant saving Rolencia for his precious Lence?'

'The king would never believe — '

'Oh, I can be very convincing, Orrade. I'm sure I could persuade my uncle, especially when it is half true.'

Orrade dragged in a ragged breath. 'You bastard!'

'No, my father was the bastard. It was the only thing that stood between him and the throne!'

Orrade said nothing.

Cobalt laughed softly, turned and left. His mocking laughter hung on the air after he had gone.

Shaking with fury, Orrade paced back and forth across the chantry. Finally he dipped his fingers in the font which held water from Halcyon's sacred pool, splashing it on his face as if to wake himself.

Muttering a string of inventive curses, Orrade spun and stalked out of the chantry.

Byren waited a few moments then left the royal box. His first thought was to warn his father, but what could he tell King Rolen without implicating himself and Orrade? It was clear now that Illien of Cobalt was a manipulative, cunning man who could not be trusted, but any proof would mean revealing the true reason for Orrade's disinheritance. Though this had nothing to do with the Servants of Palos, their betrayal was still too raw and recent for his father to separate the two.

But there was still his mother.

Byren left the Chantry, heading straight for the queen's private chamber.

When Seela met him at the door her worried face creased into a fond smile of welcome. 'Ah, Byren, so good of you to drop by and visit your old nurse.'

He flushed, amused by her pointed teasing. 'Is Mother in?'

'Yes, but she's having one of her bad turns. I've put her to bed with some dreamless-sleep. Mayhap that will bring her some peace.'

'I hope so.'

'Was it something important? Do you want me to give her a message?'

He shook his head. When his mother had these turns she would rise late the following afternoon and be groggy for a day or two. There was nothing the healers could do for her. 'I don't want to worry mother. I'll see her when I get back from Unistag Spar.'

Seela nodded. 'Give your old nurse a hug and may Halcyon watch over you.'

He hugged her, surprised to discover her flesh was thin over her bones. She had always been the rock in the centre of his childhood, a haven of safety and understanding. Now she needed protecting.

'Goodbye, Seela.' He kissed her forehead.

She flushed with pleasure. 'What was that for?'

He smiled. 'No reason.'

As he went off to pack, he decided it was just as well he had not spoken with his mother. For some reason he could never keep anything from her. She would have wormed the reason for Orrade's disinheritance from him and it was not his secret to share.

He found himself at the door to his father's private chamber. Because of his mother's turns they had separate sleeping chambers. Maybe if he just put in a word or two to make his father more careful of Cobalt…

He knocked and swung the door open to find his father lying face down, naked on his bed, while Cobalt's manservant massaged the king's massive shoulders, scarred skin gleamed with Ostronite oil in the golden lamplight.

'Father?'

'Eh, Byren. What is it?' King Rolen asked, lifting his head and blinking as though waking from a dream.

Byren said the first thing that came into his head. He could hardly suggest the king watch out for Cobalt in front of Cobalt's servant. 'I came to see how the knee was, Father.'

'Enough for now, Valens,' King Rolen said, swinging his legs off the bed and tucking the towel around his waist. He stood beside the bed, one hand on the upright to steady himself as he tested the knee. A smile broke across his weathered features. 'Eh. I can bend it without pain.'

'The pain will come back, King Rolen,' Valens warned.

Byren hadn't been aware that his father's knee hurt with every step. He crossed the room. 'If it's your knee that's the problem, why massage your back?'

Valens flicked a disdainful glance to Byren. 'I must massage the knee, hip and back every day. The knee throws the back out — '

'And don't I know it!' the king muttered.

Valens nodded. He took several dark bottles from his case. Measuring a little from each he poured the liquid into a goblet of wine and stirred. 'And you must drink this every morning and night to bring down the swelling in the joint.'

King Rolen accepted the goblet, sniffed and took a sip. He looked relieved then drained the lot. 'Ah, that's better than any of the herbals my healers give me. I was afraid you'd ruined a good wine.'

'Never, King Rolen. We Ostronites know the value of Rolencian red!' With a bow, Valens continued to pack his tools away in a leather case.

'So, can I offer you a drink, Byren?' his father asked.

'No. I'm off to bed. I want a clear head for an early start tomorrow.' Byren hesitated but Valens showed no sign of leaving. He had begun polishing his father's boots. 'I'm glad your knee is feeling better.'

'My knee? My whole back feels better. It's never been the same since that riding accident.' His father slung an arm around Byren's shoulders. The king was nearly fifty now and he was a big man, deep through the chest with a bit of a belly on him, but Byren could feel the strength in his body and the vigour as he walked him to the door. 'I swear I feel twenty years younger!' Then he grew serious. 'While you're dealing with Unistag's warlord, I want you to listen to Temor's advice. He's had thirty years, dealing with spar leaders.'