Zusthra looked abashed, but the others snickered as Ki backed out again.
The incident was gradually eclipsed by other gossip and more pressing concerns.
Despite his hopeful words in Atyion, Erius still refused to send them out to fight. Every day it seemed there was some new report of brigands terrorizing the villages somewhere, or pirates striking out of the islands at the coast. But as the summer quickly faded, Erius would not consent to his son’s pleas to get them blooded.
Perhaps because of this, the older boys turned more often to the pleasures of the lower city, led, as always, by Korin.
The king’s return had done nothing to stem the prince’s drinking or his taste for low pleasures. According to Nikides, their conduit to court doings, Erius had winked at Porion’s reports, and said, “Let him sow his wild oats while he can!”
Judging by how often Tanil ended up sleeping in the mess or in the squire’s alcove in Tobin’s room, Korin had plenty of oats to sow, and eventually, a few of them sprouted. A few more chambermaids turned up pregnant, but were quickly banished from court. How many bastards Korin might have fathered on the harbor whores was not known, at least to the Companions.
Even in the aftermath of the execution shame, Korin’s regard for Tobin never wavered, but all the same, the older boys began to leave the younger ones behind more often when they went out at night.
If Tobin noticed or cared about this increasing division, he gave no sign of it, even to Ki. As the summer waned into a cooler autumn, Tobin and his friends kept up their secret sword practice with Arengil and Una’s warrior girls.
Nearly a dozen showed up most days, though Ki was certain most of them just liked dressing in boy’s clothes and sneaking about. Una, Kalis, and a girl named Sylani were the only ones who showed any real skill.
They met there a few days after Tobin’s thirteenth name day celebration. When Tobin and Ki arrived, they found the girls laughing among themselves. Una colored indignantly when one of them confessed that they’d been debating whether or not Tobin was old enough for marriage under the royal laws.
“Old enough for battle, that’s all I care about,” Tobin countered, blushing furiously. He hated it when they flirted with him.
“What about you, then?” said Kalis, turning warm eyes on Ki. “You’re fifteen. That’s old enough to marry in my town.”
“If you want a child for a husband,” Arengil scoffed, shouldering Ki aside. “How about me? I’m old enough to be your grandfather.”
“You don’t look much like my grandfather,” she said, running a hand over the Aurënfaie’s smooth cheek.
Jealous, Ki tried to lure her fickle attentions back with a fancy two-handed flourish he’d picked up from Korin. “If you ever want to feel the way a beard tickles, he won’t be much use to you.” Nikides ducked out of the way as Ki’s blade flashed past his shoulder.
“Let’s see you put that move to practical use, Squire Kirothius,” Una challenged, laughing at him. She knew he fancied Kalis.
Tobin had marveled at the progress Una had made. It was less than a year since they’d started training and she was already a match for Nikides. She wouldn’t let any of the other boys give quarter when they sparred, either. She’d had a few split knuckles and bruises to explain away, but bore her wounds proudly.
Watching her now with Ki, he thought again of Grannia in Atyion and the girls she trained in secret there, hoping for the day when a queen would call them to arms. How many more were there all over Skala? And how many like Ahra, who were lucky enough to serve openly?
In the midst of these contemplations, he caught sight of Nikides across the circle. He was staring over the roofline at something, looking positively horrified.
Tobin turned just in time to see the king stride into view less than twenty feet way. Porion and Korin were with him, and their old enemy, Moriel, was leading the way. The king’s face was an ominous sight. Korin saw him and shook his head. Porion caught Tobin’s eye and gave him a withering look.
One by one the others realized what audience they had. Several of the girls let out cries of dismay. Ki dropped his sword and fell to one knee. Arengil, Lutha, Nikides, and their squires quickly did the same. Tobin couldn’t move.
Erius strode into their midst and looked around, memorizing faces for future punishment. At last, he rounded on Tobin.
“What’s going on here, nephew?” he demanded.
Tobin realized that he was the only one still standing, but his legs still refused to obey him. He glanced quickly into the king’s eyes, reading the weather signs there. There was anger, to be sure, but also that quicksilver danger, a hint of madness.
“Well?” Porion prompted gruffly.
“We—we’re just playing,” Tobin managed at last. Even to his own ears it sounded ridiculous.
“Playing?”
“Yes, Majesty,” a trembling voice piped up. It was Una. She placed her sword on the ground in front of her, as if offering it to him. “It’s just a game we play—pretending to be warriors.”
The king rounded on her. “And whose idea was this?”
“Mine, Your Majesty,” she answered at once. “I asked To—Prince Tobin if he’d show us how to play at swords.”
The king raised an eyebrow at Tobin. “Is this true? You come all the way up here, hiding away, just to play?”
Moriel was gloating openly now. How long had he spied on them, Tobin wondered, hating him even more. And how much had he told the king?
“Una asked me to teach her and I did,” he replied. “We come up here because her father wouldn’t approve. And so the older boys wouldn’t laugh at us, fighting girls.”
“You, Nikides?” asked Erius. “You went along with this as well, and never thought to tell your grandfather?”
Nikides hung his head. “No, Majesty. It’s my fault. I should have—”
“You damn well should have!” Erius thundered. “And you know better, too, young miss!” he snapped at Una. Then he was back to Tobin again, face twisted with mounting rage. “And you, my own blood, practicing sedition! If news of this reached my enemies—”
Tobin’s knees gave way at last and he knelt before the king, certain the man was about to lay hands on him. Just then he caught a hint of motion from the corner of his eye and an even greater fear froze the breath in his throat.
Brother stood on the ridge where the king had been, framed against the sky. Even at this distance Tobin saw murder in his twin’s face. Brother started forward, stalking the king as Erius continued to berate Tobin.
Tobin had been too surprised to react at Orun’s house. This time he brought his hands in front of his mouth, as if in supplication, and whispered the words as loudly as he dared behind his fingers.
Brother stopped and looked at Tobin, mouth curled in a silent snarl of rage. He was only a few paces from the king, almost within arm’s reach. The spirit’s hungry fury rolled across the roof slates like a cold fog but Tobin stared him down, lips moving now in a silent command. Go away. Go away. Go away.
Before he could tell if Brother had obeyed, Erius stepped closer, blocking his view.
“What are you whimpering about, you whelp?” he demanded furiously.
Terrified, Tobin waited helplessly for the king to drop dead in front of everyone.
“Are you deaf as well as mute?” Erius shouted.
“No, Uncle!” Tobin whispered. Shifting his weight ever so slightly, he could just see past the king.
Brother was gone.
“Forgive me, Uncle,” he said, relief making him giddy and bold. “I just didn’t see any harm in it.”
“No harm? When you know that I expressly forbid—”
“We weren’t really teaching them, Your Majesty,” Ki blurted out. “We just figured if we went along with it and got them alone, they’d let us kiss them. It—it’s not like any of them were any good.”