The King's Bastard - By Rowena Cory Daniells Page 0,14

modern residences and Lord Dovecote was no exception. New Dovecote sprawled on the ridge below the old stronghold. With its large windows, parquetry floors, gracious rooms and hot running water from cisterns on each floor, it was considered as fine as any Merofynian palace.

The original dovecote, which the estate had been named after, had been moved into the new great hall. Its ornate cage boasted doves bred for their beauty. Their frothy tails and plumes made them works of art. From New Dovecote's great hall double doors overlooked a terrace. On a fine day you could see Rolenhold. In pride of place two great royal foenix bronzes stood guard, one to each side of the doors. They'd been gifted to Lord Dovecote by King Byren the Fourth, in gratitude for his support quelling the spar warlords' uprising fifty years ago.

New Dovecote was not defensible but the old lord had maintained his original stronghold so that the family, their retainers and the townsfolk could all retreat to it if threatened.

Usually Byren would have gone around the back to the courtyard and entered through the kitchen. This place had been a second home to him while he was growing up. Tonight he headed straight for the double doors, too exhausted to delay. As they stepped onto the terrace he noticed the glow of a lamp in the window of Elina's ground-floor study. On second thoughts, he did not want to rouse the servants to answer the main doors. The commotion would drag the frail old lord out of bed and might trigger another brain spasm. Last spring the Old Dove had suffered a spasm which left one side of his face and his left arm useless. Elina could let them in and she would know how to handle her father.

'Wait here.' Byren went over to the window and peered in. There she was, poring over the papers spread across her cedar desk, imported from Ostron Isle. Either she was checking the estate's accounts, or she was writing the history of the last Merofynian War. Byren had no trouble admitting Elina's scholarship surpassed his.

Her midnight hair and moon-pale skin gleamed in the lamplight. She was beautiful, with her wide cheekbones and tilted black eyes, but it was her expression of intense concentration that made Byren smile. He pulled off his glove and tapped his nails on the nearest square pane.

Elina looked up, frowning, then smiled and pushed back her chair, running over to unlatch the window.

Byren stepped back as it swung open, then he stepped in towards her as a rush of warm air caressed his face.

'Byren? What are you doing here? I did not expect to see you until the midwinter ceremony.'

He smiled despite himself, then sobered. 'I've bad news, Lina. Orrie's been hurt.'

She glanced past him to her brothers standing on the terrace. The taller leaned on the shorter. 'He's walking. Can't be too bad. Come around to the stable yard door.'

Without giving Byren a chance to explain, she swung the window shut, latched it and ran off taking the lamp with her.

Byren returned to the others. 'Elina's going to let us in the stable yard door. Don't want to give your father a shock.'

Orrade and Garzik nodded. They went along the terrace which wrapped around the building. At the rear, modern stables had been built to house the Old Dove's prize horses. A much-used door opened from the house to the stable yards and it swung open now as Elina appeared with a lamp turned down low.

'Come in, quickly. I'll clean Orrie up and see if we need to wake the healer. Better come up to my chamber.'

She ushered them in, leading the way through the storage rooms and into the kitchen where half a dozen kitchen children, no older than ten, slept in a huddle in front of the ovens.

Lifting one finger to her lips she beckoned Byren and her brothers.

One child raised his head, a sleepy query on his lips.

'It's nothing, Rifkin, go back to sleep,' she told him.

Without waiting to see if Byren and the others followed, she slipped out of the kitchen and into the corridor which led to the public rooms.

This end of the building housed the library and music room, both Merofynian affectations. The family's bed chambers were on the floor above and servants slept in the attics. Elina headed straight for the private family stairs.

They had just reached the halfway landing when they met with the Old Dove coming down in his night