wouldn't be ready for a while yet. He'd gone down to Rolenhold first thing this morning to see the silversmith, who promised to have both the matching rings and the lincurium pendant ready soon.
Striding down the castle corridor, Byren dodged busy servants scurrying past with buckets of steaming water drawn from the hot-water cistern at the end of the hall. Others bustled by with freshly pressed clothes and polished boots. The smell of polish, crisped cotton and lavender-scented wool filled the air. The abbot would stage the race for Halcyon's Fate at midday and everyone wanted to see it. Byren had to find his twin before they left for the township, because after that their day would be taken up with ceremony and feasting.
He went looking for Lence. In the great hall he headed for the knot of drinkers by the fireplace, identifying his father and Captain Temor. Who was that with them?
Illien of Cobalt. He'd recognise those padded shoulders anywhere. There was nothing wrong with Cobalt's shoulders so why pad them? He supposed his cousin hadn't had time to get Rolencian-style clothes made up yet.
'...because it's never happened here, Captain Temor, that doesn't mean it can't happen in Merofynia,' Cobalt was saying. 'Palatyne's a canny man, as befits the warlord of Amfina Spar, the two-headed snake. He let the rest of Merofynia's warlords tear each other to pieces like a pack of wild dogs so that when he stepped in they had nothing left to throw against his men. That's how he became overlord of the spars. And, by keeping them under control, he's earned King Merofyn's gratitude. But the ordinary people of Merofynia are sick of this upstart overlord strutting around, taking what he wants. They were fed up with King Merofyn anyway, with his greedy taxes and his religious fervour. Now that he stares death in the face, he's turned to the gods, calling on those with untamed Affinity to find a way to bargain with death itself. Why, they say there are more renegade Power-workers in Port Mero than bakers!'
'Filthy Untamed Affinity,' King Rolen muttered. 'Execution or banishment is all they deserve.'
'Very true,' Cobalt agreed. 'I was telling Lence Kingsheir only yesterday how the people of Merofynia look back on the rule of Queen Myrella's father with great longing. I swear, Uncle, if you were to march into Port Mero right now the people would cheer you as a saviour!'
'More the fool me. What of the lords and their men, Cobalt? You can bet they won't lay down their arms and welcome me into their Great Halls!' King Rolen laughed. 'Besides, soon we'll have Lence betrothed to King Merofyn's daughter. All Rolencia wants from Merofynia is peace and a chance to grow prosperous.'
'Yes, Merofyn's daughter,' Cobalt muttered looking worried.
'What have you heard about Isolt?' Captain Temor asked.
Cobalt gave a delicate shrug. 'You know what they say, what's suckled at the breast cannot be forgotten. For all that she's a pretty thing, she is her father's child.'
'Cunning and cold?' Rolen pressed.
Cobalt shrugged. '"Be careful what you whisper on your pillow. It will find its way back to your wife's father and brothers."'
Temor nodded. 'Wives taken to cement alliances always owe their loyalty to their family, not their husband.'
'Ha! My Myrella has proven the exception to that rule.' King Rolen grinned. 'Don't worry, Illien. I'm sure Lence will make the most of Isolt. She's only fifteen, young enough to mould.'
'We can hope so,' Cobalt agreed, and for the first time Byren wondered if his father had made the right decision. An uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. All his life, his father had been a legendary figure who had saved Rolencia from invasion at only eighteen years of age. But what if the king had misjudged the balance of power this time? There had been times recently when Byren hadn't agreed with his father's decisions. The Utland raid was one example. It struck him that for many years now his father had trusted his old honour guard as advisors, men who were certainly loyal but they had never lived outside Rolencia. Was his father...
'Byren, I didn't see you there,' Cobalt greeted him, his dark rippling curls travelling across his back as he turned. Small jewels had been woven through the hair at his temples and they winked as they caught the light.
Why didn't he tie his hair back like a warrior? Byren repressed that thought as unworthy, while Cobalt's sword arm was still in a