away, hasn’t he? Bury it!” she exploded, pounding a fist on the table.
Fionvar shook his head. “Kidnapped,” he blurted, “early this morning.”
Lyssa froze. “Kidnapped? But I—” Again, she broke off, considering. “Tell me everything.”
Fionvar told her in a rush of words all that they knew—the refugees who had been spotted, then vanished, the terrible death of the prince’s manservant, his own visit to the quiet room where Dylan had still not awakened. Lyssa leaned against the workbench, listening, watching Fionvar pace the tiny space behind the curtain. He didn’t need to know what she had said to Wolfram; it had become meaningless beside the greater tragedy. Even as that little fear was soothed, the weight of what he said flowed over her. The crown prince—the only heir—missing, presumably at the hands of this band of foreigners. Perhaps he had meant to go, been followed by his friend and servant before being carried off. Perhaps it was not she herself who had destroyed him.
It took her a long while to realize that Fionvar had fallen silent, and stood, eyeing her suspiciously. “Why did you think he might have run away?”
Lyssa gave her one-shouldered shrug. “He was furious with both of you.”
“He generally is. It would have to be more than that.”
She gestured to the fallen statue. “He cut off his hair, Fionvar, and we fought. With this on top of everything, it seemed likely he’d want to escape.”
“He can’t escape from everything,” Fionvar growled.
“Out with it, Fion. What haven’t you said?”
“Wolfram had a lover, Lyssa; she’s here at the castle.”
“He said he’d left her.”
“Not far enough. The woman is with child.”
“Great Lady! I suppose it was bound to happen, but—”
“Bound to, you say? I take it you’ve known about her for some time, then, sister.” Fionvar folded his arms across his chest, staring her down. “But wait, I haven’t told you the best—or do you already know?”
“Wolfram is my friend. If he wants to keep secrets from you, who am I to reveal them?” She met his steely gaze.
“Asenith,” Fionvar said simply, watching for a change in her face, but the name meant nothing to her. “His lover was the former princess Asenith yfEvaine duThorgir.”
“I knew we should have killed them all.” She smacked her fist into her palm.
“Harsh words for one of the Goddess,” Fionvar observed.
Lyssa shrugged again. “We were at war, there were crimes to be redressed. Remember when that Faedre tried to kill the king? She and Asenith were tight at the end. We’d no evidence, of course, but I tend to doubt the little bitch was innocent!”
“She certainly isn’t now, Lyssa, she’s been knocked up by my—” His face froze a moment, and he finished more quietly, “my prince.”
Just for a moment, she saw the anguish on his face, then his eyes snapped away, lips set—the Lord Protector once more. “There’s no one to hear, Fionvar,” she offered, quietly. “Say what you will to me.”
He let out a long breath, arms crossed a little tighter to hold himself in. “It’s disaster all over again, Lyssa. I can see it happening, and I can’t do a thing.”
“Say it, Fionvar,” Lyssa urged. “It isn’t disaster you’re afraid of, big brother.” She hesitated a moment, but he did not look up. “It’s Orie.”
A shudder ran through Fionvar’s body. “Brianna won’t let me talk to Wolfram the way I need to, the way he needs. Elyn spoils him with one hand and slaps him with the other. And every year, every day, he gets more and more angry. It’slike he’s trying to live out Prince Alyn’s curse. Great Lady, I don’t know what to do.”
Lyssa straightened. “The first thing is to find him and bring him home.” She swept a dagger from her belt, clutching the blade in her left hand.
Fionvar’s chin shot up, as Lyssa squeezed her fist tighter. Blood dripped down the metal onto the floor.
“By the blood
Fionvar shook his head. “Kidnapped,” he blurted, “early this morning.”
Lyssa froze. “Kidnapped? But I—” Again, she broke off, considering. “Tell me everything.”
Fionvar told her in a rush of words all that they knew—the refugees who had been spotted, then vanished, the terrible death of the prince’s manservant, his own visit to the quiet room where Dylan had still not awakened. Lyssa leaned against the workbench, listening, watching Fionvar pace the tiny space behind the curtain. He didn’t need to know what she had said to Wolfram; it had become meaningless beside the greater tragedy. Even as that little fear was soothed, the weight of what he said flowed over her. The crown prince—the only heir—missing, presumably at the hands of this band of foreigners. Perhaps he had meant to go, been followed by his friend and servant before being carried off. Perhaps it was not she herself who had destroyed him.
It took her a long while to realize that Fionvar had fallen silent, and stood, eyeing her suspiciously. “Why did you think he might have run away?”
Lyssa gave her one-shouldered shrug. “He was furious with both of you.”
“He generally is. It would have to be more than that.”
She gestured to the fallen statue. “He cut off his hair, Fionvar, and we fought. With this on top of everything, it seemed likely he’d want to escape.”
“He can’t escape from everything,” Fionvar growled.
“Out with it, Fion. What haven’t you said?”
“Wolfram had a lover, Lyssa; she’s here at the castle.”
“He said he’d left her.”
“Not far enough. The woman is with child.”
“Great Lady! I suppose it was bound to happen, but—”
“Bound to, you say? I take it you’ve known about her for some time, then, sister.” Fionvar folded his arms across his chest, staring her down. “But wait, I haven’t told you the best—or do you already know?”
“Wolfram is my friend. If he wants to keep secrets from you, who am I to reveal them?” She met his steely gaze.
“Asenith,” Fionvar said simply, watching for a change in her face, but the name meant nothing to her. “His lover was the former princess Asenith yfEvaine duThorgir.”
“I knew we should have killed them all.” She smacked her fist into her palm.
“Harsh words for one of the Goddess,” Fionvar observed.
Lyssa shrugged again. “We were at war, there were crimes to be redressed. Remember when that Faedre tried to kill the king? She and Asenith were tight at the end. We’d no evidence, of course, but I tend to doubt the little bitch was innocent!”
“She certainly isn’t now, Lyssa, she’s been knocked up by my—” His face froze a moment, and he finished more quietly, “my prince.”
Just for a moment, she saw the anguish on his face, then his eyes snapped away, lips set—the Lord Protector once more. “There’s no one to hear, Fionvar,” she offered, quietly. “Say what you will to me.”
He let out a long breath, arms crossed a little tighter to hold himself in. “It’s disaster all over again, Lyssa. I can see it happening, and I can’t do a thing.”
“Say it, Fionvar,” Lyssa urged. “It isn’t disaster you’re afraid of, big brother.” She hesitated a moment, but he did not look up. “It’s Orie.”
A shudder ran through Fionvar’s body. “Brianna won’t let me talk to Wolfram the way I need to, the way he needs. Elyn spoils him with one hand and slaps him with the other. And every year, every day, he gets more and more angry. It’slike he’s trying to live out Prince Alyn’s curse. Great Lady, I don’t know what to do.”
Lyssa straightened. “The first thing is to find him and bring him home.” She swept a dagger from her belt, clutching the blade in her left hand.
Fionvar’s chin shot up, as Lyssa squeezed her fist tighter. Blood dripped down the metal onto the floor.
“By the blood
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