Riv gazed in awe at Bleda and a dozen of his honour guard. They were galloping across the weapons-field in an arrowhead formation, leaning low in their saddles, bows drawn, two or three more arrows gripped in the same fist that held their bows. Without any obvious sign that Riv could tell, they loosed their bows together, arrows flying at the straw targets before them; within heartbeats they had drawn and loosed another shaft, then were thundering past their pin-cushioned targets, twisting in their saddles to shoot one last arrow into the back of the straw men.

Just in case two arrows in the face isn’t enough to put your enemy down.

Riv whooped her approval as the riders curled around the field, slowing to a canter, and another dozen rode at the straw targets.

‘Have to admit, that’s an impressive party trick,’ Jost said beside her.

‘Aye. How can Bleda still do that, after five years away from it?’ Riv said.

‘It’s like riding a horse,’ a voice said behind her, and she turned to see Jin, sat upon a mount of her own, a curved bow in her hand. ‘Once you learn the skill of it, you never forget.’ She shrugged. ‘It may take a while to come back, like knocking the rust from a blade left untended, but the iron and steel is still beneath.’

‘Wise words,’ Jost said.

‘Huh,’ Riv grunted. She didn’t much care for Jin, had always found her abrupt, rude. And now that she had an honour guard of a hundred warriors, there was a new level of arrogance in her, the way she spoke, even the way she walked was irritating Riv.

‘It’s about discipline, self-control, focus,’ Jin said as she rode past them. She looked down and met Riv’s eyes flatly. ‘Something you’d know very little about.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Riv said, a seam of anger heating in her veins. She felt Jost’s hand upon her arm, heard his voice. Ignored it.

‘You know exactly what it means,’ Jin said. ‘I saw your warrior trial. You have no discipline, no control.’ She snorted a laugh. ‘What kind of warrior are you? The answer is: none at all. I doubt you will ever pass your warrior trial, will always be wishing, hoping, dreaming. As you dream of other things.’

Riv opened her mouth, but only a strangled hiss came out.

‘I see the way you look at my betrothed. Bleda is mine. Betrothed to me. We shall rule Arcona together, while you are still polishing warriors’ boots and dreaming of being one.’