Free The Usurper by Rowena Cory Daniells

come after you, king or no king.'
    Byren shook his head. 'It's not like that. I don't use women like...' he broke off. He'd nearly said 'like Lence.' He started again. 'I gave my heart to Orrade's sister. And she died in my arms. I have no heart. When I marry, it will be to cement Rolencia's alliances.'
    'Good, because it's hard for a woman to tell her king no.'
    Byren flushed. He was not like Lence.
     
    Fyn's head thumped in time to the beat of his heart, his mouth felt like the inside of the captain's bird cage and the midday sun made his eyes hurt. He uttered a silent vow never to drink again.
    But Fyn was not alone. The only person on board the Wyvern's Whelp who wasn't hungover was little Runt. He went about whistling.
    Jakulos winced. 'Eh, lad. Keep it down.'
    The cabin boy laughed and came to a stop in front of Fyn. 'Captain wants to see you.'
    With a groan, Fyn pulled himself to his feet. He paused halfway across the mid-deck, to swallow a beaker of water.
    In the cabin, he blinked and tried to concentrate as he recognised the map spread across Nefysto's desk. The captain was plotting a course for Ostron Isle.
    'That was too close a call,' Nefysto muttered, head bent over the map. 'I'm taking her into port to have her hull scraped.'
    Fyn said nothing, not sure what was required of him.
    Nefysto lifted his head. 'We owe our lives to you. You saw the opportunity to make the Affinity beasts' natural instincts serve us.' He rolled up the map and sat back in his chair, long legs stretched out. 'I know you want to return to Rolencia and I'd like to oblige you, but I have my orders. When we get to port, unless you give me your word of honour to remain with the Wyvern's Whelp , I'll have you placed under arrest.'
    Fyn wished his head didn't hurt so badly. 'Why? Why do you care what I do?'
    Nefysto lifted his elegant fingers in an oblique gesture that told him nothing. 'Orders, little monk. What will it be?'
    Anger flushed the stupor from his body. 'I won't give my word.'
    'That's what I thought.'
    As Fyn turned to walk out, he wondered why he hadn't lied. It would have been so simple to agree, then slip away. It was not as if he owed the Wyvern's Whelp's captain a debt of honour. After all, the man had forced him to serve against his will.
     
    'That's a lie. Take it back!'
    Byren tensed, his lunch sitting heavy in his belly. Not Winterfall again. He peered around the bend to find his honour guard had met up with the maimed on the crossing of two narrow paths.
    The player lifted his hands in a no-threat gesture. 'I'm only repeating Cobalt's decree.'
    Byren caught Orrade's eye, with a slight nod.
    No words needed, Orrade went forwards, while Byren hung back to listen in.
    'What decree is this?' Orrade asked.
    'Lord Dovecote.' The player acknowledged his rank with a nod. 'It was all over Rolenton. I'm surprised you haven't heard.'
    Orrade made no answer.
    The player's tone, when he continued, said that he was only repeating what he had heard. 'Regent Cobalt announced that Queen Myrella had untamed Affinity. According to Rolencian law this annuls her marriage to King Rolen, making their children illegitimate. Since Cobalt is the son of King Rolen's older illegitimate brother, this makes his claim to the throne as good as, if not better than, Byren Kingsheir's claim.'
    'A lie. A scurrilous lie,' Winterfall insisted. 'If you'd heard the things Cobalt said, the way he twisted words to serve him, you'd -'
    'Enough.' Orrade held up a hand. Byren could hear the annoyance in his voice. 'Since Queen Myrella, may Halcyon shelter her, was murdered by Cobalt at Overlord Palatyne's orders, she can't defend herself. And I don't think I'd trust anything Cobalt said. Not when it favours him. Come on, Winterfall, back to weapons practice.'
    Orrade led Byren's honour guard off, while Byren held back, cursing Cobalt under his breath. Trust his cousin to muddy the waters. Fancy accusing his mother of untamed Affinity - if ever there was a dutiful