It was strange to walk these corridors now – the same approach to the same chamber, once her father’s. The same smells of oak beams and dusty tapestries and fur hangings that evoked her childhood, when laughter had resounded off the walls. It had only taken a short time to turn all of that upside down. A short time for all laughter to die.

Now the chamber belonged to the son of her father’s enemy. The man she had chosen for duty’s sake, whom she had come to care for deeply, even love in a way, although he had never possessed her inmost heart. That belonged to another.

She pushed aside the drape and braced her throat against the rancid smell that hit her nostrils. ‘I’m here, husband.’

The mound of furs on the massive bed stirred. A head of sandy hair appeared, matted with sweat. ‘Lilla?’

She sat on the bed frame. He reached out a wasted fist. She took it, feeling the warmth in her hand drain into his cold, bloodless fingers. ‘Did you sleep?’

‘It is not sleep,’ he answered hoarsely. ‘I close my eyes and faces fly around me, full of fear and fury.’ His head shook. ‘I once thought death would bring peace. But now I fear it.’

She stroked her thumb over his knuckles. ‘Speak not of death, husband. When the fevers pass, you’ll soon recover. I believe it.’

‘You’re a poor liar, my love.’ His cracked lips formed a sad smile. ‘I’m sorry. I failed you.’

A tear welled in her eye. She blinked it away. ‘How could you have failed me? You’ve done all things well.’

‘Not all. I’m leaving you alone. I should have given you a son.’

‘You did. It was me, it was. . .’ Her voice trailed off and she had to look away. She had carried a child in her belly. For a time. Although only she knew it was not this man’s seed that had put it there. ‘Maybe when you’re well again.’

‘Lilla, I’m dying. You are barren. It’s just as she said—’

‘No!. . . No. She was destroyed. Her words have no power.’

Although she willed this to be true, she couldn’t help but see in her mind’s eye Queen Saldas standing proud and untamed, long black hair streaming, the cup of poison she would drink for her crimes raised high as she cried dark curses to the wind.

‘We should have cut out her tongue as soon as we took her.’

‘Her power was broken before she spoke those words.’

Ringast snorted. ‘Yet here we are.’ He tried a rueful smile but some shiver of pain twisted his face into a grimace. ‘Still nothing from Thrand?’

‘Nothing. It’s two weeks since we sent word, as you asked.’