swore allegiance to King Rolen, but they were always looking for a weakness to exploit. He'd have to mention the raiders to his father and find out where they'd struck.
A soft step made him turn. Seeing Elina, his heart lurched and his body clenched.
Elina blushed, the memory of last night obviously uppermost in her mind, too.
'Oh, Byren, you're awake. You look like you slept in your clothes.'
'I did.'
She blushed and glanced down into her apron, which she had folded up to carrying something. A tendril of long black hair had worked loose from her plait and it moved with each quick breath as if it had a life of its own. It fascinated Byren. He longed to lift it aside and take up where they had left off last night. He dare not move.
The silence stretched.
Then her apron gave a whimper and she laughed, opening its folds to show him three liver-coloured retrievers. They looked no more than two weeks old. The puppies squirmed over each other, eager and bright-eyed.
'Regal's had her pups so I'm bringing them for Orrade to see. I mean...' Her face crumpled, chin trembling as she closed her eyes, fighting tears.
Byren wanted to take her in his arms. He knew how she would feel and longed to explore the heat of her lips. With a start, he realised he wanted to do nothing more than hold her forever and protect her, yet he could not save her from the love she felt for her brother. Compelled to ease her pain, he opened his mouth but could think of nothing useful to say. So he remained silent, impotent.
She gave a muffled sound that was half sob, half laughter. 'Silly pups. They wriggle so, they'd take a tumble.'
'And fine pups they are, too,' he said, watching her face.
She smiled through her tears. 'Here, take the spotty one. He's the worst wriggler.'
Byren took the pup and she transferred the apron ends to one hand, using the other hand to wipe her face. She looked up at him, lashes damp with tears. 'Can you tell I've been crying? Not that Orrade will be able to see. Oh, Byren. I can't bear it. Father is devastated. I feared he'd have another brain spasm, when he found us on the stairs.'
Now was not the time to tell her how he felt and ask her to marry him.
She drew in a deep, shaky breath. 'I'm ready.'
They headed towards Orrade's chamber.
'Has the healer seen Orrie this morning?' he asked.
Elina nodded.
'What did she say?'
'The same, wait and see. I've been praying to Halcyon all night.' Her voice dropped as they approached the door. 'He's being so brave about it. I can't stand it.'
Byren grinned. 'That's Orrie for you.'
He opened the door, and Elina sailed in with a determined smile. 'Guess what I have, Orrie.'
Orrade lifted his head. He was sitting up in bed, a much neater bandage around his head. Someone had washed and combed his waist-length black hair, then braided it in one long plait which looked thinner than usual. Byren remembered Elina had clipped it at the back to clean the wound properly.
'And what do you have, Elina?' he asked.
'Go on, guess.'
Orrade rolled his sightless eyes towards his father and brother, who were on the far side of the bed. Unless you watched closely it was hard to tell that he was blind.
'Lord Dovecote.' Byren greeted him formally, out of respect. 'It is good to see you.'
'Byren Kingson.' The old lord acknowledged Byren with a half-bow. When Byren turned fifteen and became a man, the friendly cuff over the ear had become a formal greeting. He still missed it. But that was the Old Dove for you. Having fought beside Byren's grandfather and then his father in the last war against Merofynia, he had been ruthless in battle. The servants still whispered about how he had stood impassive while his eldest son was executed, because of his association with the Servants of Palos.
Cold disquiet gripped Byren. Sylion take Orrade and his ideals.
'I think I was too tired to explain properly last night. We owe our lives to Garzik and Captain Blackwing,' Byren said.
'It's all right. I told
A soft step made him turn. Seeing Elina, his heart lurched and his body clenched.
Elina blushed, the memory of last night obviously uppermost in her mind, too.
'Oh, Byren, you're awake. You look like you slept in your clothes.'
'I did.'
She blushed and glanced down into her apron, which she had folded up to carrying something. A tendril of long black hair had worked loose from her plait and it moved with each quick breath as if it had a life of its own. It fascinated Byren. He longed to lift it aside and take up where they had left off last night. He dare not move.
The silence stretched.
Then her apron gave a whimper and she laughed, opening its folds to show him three liver-coloured retrievers. They looked no more than two weeks old. The puppies squirmed over each other, eager and bright-eyed.
'Regal's had her pups so I'm bringing them for Orrade to see. I mean...' Her face crumpled, chin trembling as she closed her eyes, fighting tears.
Byren wanted to take her in his arms. He knew how she would feel and longed to explore the heat of her lips. With a start, he realised he wanted to do nothing more than hold her forever and protect her, yet he could not save her from the love she felt for her brother. Compelled to ease her pain, he opened his mouth but could think of nothing useful to say. So he remained silent, impotent.
She gave a muffled sound that was half sob, half laughter. 'Silly pups. They wriggle so, they'd take a tumble.'
'And fine pups they are, too,' he said, watching her face.
She smiled through her tears. 'Here, take the spotty one. He's the worst wriggler.'
Byren took the pup and she transferred the apron ends to one hand, using the other hand to wipe her face. She looked up at him, lashes damp with tears. 'Can you tell I've been crying? Not that Orrade will be able to see. Oh, Byren. I can't bear it. Father is devastated. I feared he'd have another brain spasm, when he found us on the stairs.'
Now was not the time to tell her how he felt and ask her to marry him.
She drew in a deep, shaky breath. 'I'm ready.'
They headed towards Orrade's chamber.
'Has the healer seen Orrie this morning?' he asked.
Elina nodded.
'What did she say?'
'The same, wait and see. I've been praying to Halcyon all night.' Her voice dropped as they approached the door. 'He's being so brave about it. I can't stand it.'
Byren grinned. 'That's Orrie for you.'
He opened the door, and Elina sailed in with a determined smile. 'Guess what I have, Orrie.'
Orrade lifted his head. He was sitting up in bed, a much neater bandage around his head. Someone had washed and combed his waist-length black hair, then braided it in one long plait which looked thinner than usual. Byren remembered Elina had clipped it at the back to clean the wound properly.
'And what do you have, Elina?' he asked.
'Go on, guess.'
Orrade rolled his sightless eyes towards his father and brother, who were on the far side of the bed. Unless you watched closely it was hard to tell that he was blind.
'Lord Dovecote.' Byren greeted him formally, out of respect. 'It is good to see you.'
'Byren Kingson.' The old lord acknowledged Byren with a half-bow. When Byren turned fifteen and became a man, the friendly cuff over the ear had become a formal greeting. He still missed it. But that was the Old Dove for you. Having fought beside Byren's grandfather and then his father in the last war against Merofynia, he had been ruthless in battle. The servants still whispered about how he had stood impassive while his eldest son was executed, because of his association with the Servants of Palos.
Cold disquiet gripped Byren. Sylion take Orrade and his ideals.
'I think I was too tired to explain properly last night. We owe our lives to Garzik and Captain Blackwing,' Byren said.
'It's all right. I told
Similar Books
