Union (3 page)

“T
HERE
YOU
are!” Cerylea gave Ryneq a knowing look as he entered the study-cum-war room. “I was tempted to start without you.”

Ryneq raised an eyebrow at her but didn’t comment. He walked over to the table in the center of the room, where Cerylea, Eldin, and Nysad sat together at one end. Maps and documents covered almost half of the table. As Ryneq took his seat, he glanced at the map nearest to him, which showed Torsere and all its borders.

“Has the latest scouting party returned yet?” he asked, turning to face Nysad.

Nysad sighed and rested his arms on the edge of the table. “Yes, Sire, just this morning. They found multiple horse tracks near the Athisi border, but they could be from anyone.” Nysad tapped the map in several places as he spoke. “We’ve searched all along these borders, and there’s just no sign of Seran anywhere. Wherever he’s gone, I don’t think we’re going to find him now.”

Ryneq nodded. He knew Nysad was right. They couldn’t afford to waste any more time or manpower searching for him. Seran was dangerous, and Ryneq hated not knowing where he was or what he was up to, but they didn’t seem to have much choice at the moment. “Call off the search but double the patrols on the borders. I don’t want to be caught by surprise if he’s planning to attack again.”

“Yes, Sire.”

Ryneq focused his attention on Eldin next. The leader of his dragon riders sat to his left and didn’t flinch under Ryneq’s gaze. Eldin had disobeyed his direct order by sending Nykin to Risvery Castle to rescue him. It had almost cost Nykin his life, and Ryneq would have been well within his rights to have Eldin stripped of his rank and thrown in the dungeons. But Eldin’s decision had saved all of them in the end, and Ryneq couldn’t bring himself to punish him for that.

They’d had words. Ryneq couldn’t let it go without reminding Eldin exactly why he’d given those orders and that he expected him to follow any future orders to the letter.

“Eldin, how many riders do you have available?” Ryneq asked finally. There’d been some injuries when Seran had attacked the castle, mainly to the riders themselves, but Seran’s archers had hurt a couple of dragons as well. Nykin wasn’t the only rider out of action.

“The dragons are all fully healed, Your Highness. But I have at least three riders still recovering, and that’s not including Nykin.”

“Leave ten to guard the palace. The rest fly border patrols and coordinate with Nysad for maximum coverage.”

“Yes, Sire.”

Ryneq sat back in his seat and looked at the three people with him. Apart from Nykin, these were the people he trusted most in his kingdom. Hatak had taken great delight in telling him about the spies in the palace, and Ryneq felt a cold dread settle in the pit of his stomach at the thought. One or more of his people had betrayed not only him and Cerylea, but all of Torsere too. He needed to find them fast, and weed out the traitors before they spilled any more of Torsere’s secrets.

“Ryneq?” Cerylea squeezed his forearm gently and snapped him out of his thoughts. “Do you want to discuss the wedding plans next or… the other thing?”

He looked up to meet her eyes and knew exactly what she was referring to. This subject was painful for all of them. The spies could be anywhere and were possibly people they knew and liked.

Ryneq sighed but reached for the pencil and notebook in the middle of the table. “Let’s just get it done.”

They’d already started to compile a list of who it could be, crossing off the names of the riders and guards who’d been aware of Nykin’s part in the rescue attempt. If any of those had been spies, then Hatak would have known Nykin was a rider, despite how well he’d disguised himself as a guard. They also crossed off the names of the ten guards Nysad had taken with him to guard Cerylea.

None of the riders would ever spy for the lowland provinces, considering that the main reason they attacked Torsere was to get their hands on dragon’s blood. That still left a long list of guards and palace workers, and Ryneq had no idea where to start.

“If I may, Sire?” Eldin reached out for the book, and Ryneq nodded and pushed it toward him. “The only people who knew about the rescue plan were the ones in the room when we discussed it. We’ve already eliminated those who knew Nykin was involved, so that leaves twelve palace guards and the riders.”

“Cross off all the riders. They would never spy for Hatak,” Ryneq said, and Eldin was quick to scribble out their names. “That just leaves us with the guards.”

Ryneq took the book from Eldin and looked at the list of names. His chest felt tight. Two of those remaining were members of his personal guard. He’d known them for years, and the thought that either—or possibly both, Ryneq didn’t actually know how many spies he was looking for—could be a traitor left an unpleasant taste in his mouth.

“That’s not necessarily everyone who knew,” Cerylea added, and all three men turned to look at her. “You may have told your men to keep the rescue mission a secret, but are you certain all of them obeyed? Or that someone didn’t overhear?” Cerylea waited a moment, then added, “Some of the soldiers are very
friendly
with the palace workers.”

Eldin shifted in his seat, obviously uncomfortable with Cerylea talking about such things.

Cerylea just rolled her eyes and carried on. “There’s every possibility that they let it slip during sex.”

Nysad bristled at her words, and Ryneq was well aware that it had nothing to do with Cerylea talking about sex. They were Nysad’s men just as much as they were Ryneq’s, and he knew exactly how Nysad felt. But neither of them could afford the luxury of being offended at this point.

“Question these twelve first”—Ryneq pointed to the list of guards in the notebook—“then report back.”

It was all they could do for now. As a result of this, all the wedding planning now took place behind closed doors. Only a handful of people knew any of the specific details, and their names were also on a list. Ryneq refused to be betrayed again.

Cerylea pushed her chair back from the table and rearranged her dress. The sapphire blue material rustled softly as she stood and turned to face her brother. “I think that’s enough for today. The wedding plans can wait until tomorrow.”

Everyone agreed, and they safely put away all the maps and documents. Eldin and Nysad left together, and Cerylea waited for them to close the doors before speaking.

“So, I hear Nykin has been allowed out of his room at last?”

Ryneq narrowed his eyes at her. He should have expected his sister would already know the state of Nykin’s health.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said, nudging him with her elbow and smirking. “You know very well that Djilak can never say no to me.”

“Yes,” Ryneq huffed. He got out of his chair and walked over to the window. “He was on his way to the Eyrie when I came here.”

He looked out over the villages on the eastern side of Torsere, the soft tendrils of smoke from the houses curling up toward the sky.

Cerylea joined him by the window, sighing as she rested her head on his shoulder. “Have you thought any more about the announcement ceremony?”

“The answer’s still no.” Ryneq laughed softly at Cerylea’s pout. “He doesn’t want to be the center of attention, and besides, it’s not like there’s anybody left in the palace who doesn’t know. Is it really necessary?”

“Yes, it is. And if you actually stopped to think about it, you’d agree with me. It’s not just the people in the palace that need to recognize Nykin. It’s all of Torsere.” When Cerylea looked up at him, her smile was rueful. “If Nykin didn’t want to be the center of attention, then he picked the wrong man to become involved with.”

In the two years since their parents had died, Cerylea and Ryneq had ruled Torsere together. They’d followed the laws and traditions set out by their father, but neither of them had ever attended an “announcement ceremony” before. Ryneq had initially thought that he and Nykin could be together with no fuss, since Cerylea’s upcoming marriage would be more than enough to celebrate. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized Cerylea was absolutely right. He was the King, and if he was going to take Nykin as his consort, then they needed to make it as official as Cerylea’s wedding.

“I don’t see what the problem is. You love him, don’t you?”

“I…,” Ryneq faltered.

She gave him a disbelieving look. “I see the way you look at him and the way you act around each other. I’m certain the feeling is mutual, Brother.”

“It’s only been a few weeks….” He trailed off as she continued to glare, not sure why he was trying to convince her otherwise. It may only have been a few weeks, but a lot had happened in that time, and his feelings for Nykin had grown at an exponential rate. He might think it was too soon for such feelings, but it didn’t mean they weren’t there. “You’re right. I’ll talk to him.”

Cerylea beamed and reached up to kiss him on the cheek. “We need to do it soon, before I leave for Alel. It would be good for everyone if Nykin accompanies you to the wedding officially as your consort, and not just as one of your riders.”

They planned to leave for the elven city of Alel in three weeks. That didn’t give them much time to plan for a formal announcement and celebration. It wouldn’t be anything as big as Cerylea’s wedding but would still need some organization. First, though, he had to persuade Nykin.

A
FTER
LEAVING
Cerylea, Ryneq headed straight for the Eyrie. It had been at least three hours since he’d seen Nykin, but he fully expected him to be there still. The place was a hive of activity, most of the riders either coming in to the landing caves from patrol, or preparing to head out.

They greeted Ryneq with the usual polite smiles, nods, and “Sire,” as he walked swiftly toward the first of the caves. Some of the smiles were more knowing than others, but Ryneq just smirked and let it go. He imagined the palace was rife with gossip about him and Nykin, and he wasn’t about to punish anyone for it.

He didn’t have to go far to find Nykin. When Ryneq peered in through the doorway of the very first cave, his lips curled up into a soft smile at the sight that met him. Fimor lay stretched out across the hard, stone floor, his burnt red scales shimmering in the fading light. His large head rested on the ground, eyes closed, and he had his long tail wrapped protectively around the sleeping form leaning up against his side.

Nykin.

Ryneq stepped farther into the cave, careful with his footing so as not to make a noise and disturb them. He should have expected Fimor to be on his guard, though, and he didn’t get very far before Fimor’s dark eyes flicked open to regard him with what Ryneq would swear was an amused expression. The dragon shifted his head to look at Nykin—still unaware of Ryneq’s presence and snoring softly—and gave him a gentle nudge with his tail.

“Don’t wake him on my account,” Ryneq whispered. He may not be able to hear Fimor like Nykin could, but the dragon was perfectly able to understand him. “He still needs his rest.”

Fimor huffed and nudged Nykin again, a little firmer this time.

Cerylea and Ryneq had a strange relationship with the dragons. Their ancestors had saved the dragons from being hunted to extinction over two hundred years ago, and given them sanctuary in the mountains of Torsere. The bond formed between the dragons and the royal family had passed down through the generations. Although nowhere near as strong as a rider’s bond, both Cerylea and Ryneq were able to sense emotions, if the dragons allowed it. The dragons could do the same in return, without restriction.

As Ryneq walked closer, he felt waves of calm and satisfaction roll over him as Fimor let his emotions out. It felt like a warm blanket slipping around his shoulders, and Ryneq immediately relaxed, all the tension from his talk with Cerylea fading away.

“If this is what you do to Nykin, I’m surprised he isn’t up here all the time.”

Fimor snorted, little sparks escaping into the air, and Ryneq grinned. He should come up here more often. He’d forgotten how easy it was to be around dragons. He and Cerylea used to come up here all the time when they were growing up, getting in the way of the riders as they ran between the caves. The dragons were hundreds of years old, and Ryneq had longed to be a rider so he could hear, firsthand, all the stories they had to tell.

Nykin’s loud yawn broke Ryneq out of his thoughts, and he laughed at the sleepy, confused look on Nykin’s face. “Evening.” He held out a hand and carefully helped Nykin to his feet.

Nykin glanced over at the mouth of the cave, frowning at the darkening sky. “What time is it?” He yawned again, rubbing the last remains of sleep from his eyes.

“About an hour past supper, but I’m sure I can persuade the kitchen staff to make us both a plate.” Ryneq still had hold of Nykin’s hand, and he tugged on it until Nykin pressed up against him. “How are you feeling?”

Nykin met his eyes, and Ryneq saw the evidence for himself before Nykin even opened his mouth.

“I feel good, so much better than I did earlier.”

“I can see.”

Nykin turned and looked at Fimor, the silent communication obvious as Nykin nodded and smiled at his dragon before facing Ryneq. “Fimor says it’s the bond, healing us both now that we’re together.” His smile faded a little as he glanced briefly back at Fimor. “I would have come earlier if I’d known how bad he was.”

Fimor huffed again and flicked his tail.

Nykin glared at him. “I know I was healing, Fimor, but you should have told me to come here sooner. I don’t want you to—”

Nykin cut off sharply, looking thoroughly chastised, and Ryneq could only assume that Fimor was less than impressed with his tone. He cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow when he had Nykin’s attention.

“Sorry,” Nykin said, casting another quick glance at Fimor, and Ryneq wasn’t entirely sure who he was apologizing to.

When Nykin met Ryneq’s gaze again, Nykin’s eyes narrowed. “Did you know how sick Fimor was getting?”

A low rumbling sound came from behind them, and Ryneq watched Fimor starting to get to his feet.