Whatever it was, Bleda sensed a tension in the air. The members of his mother’s retinue might be skilled in the art of the cold-face, but some were not as adept at keeping their emotions entirely hidden. Bleda noticed white knuckles on reins, strung bows on saddle-pegs, horses with ears back or flicking as their rider’s mood was sensed on some level and transferred. And Israfil and Kol either side of him were fidgeting in their tell-tale ways that possibly only Bleda could read, a quiver through their wings, a tightness in their musculature.

Something is wrong.

Erdene and Uldin reined in before Bleda and Jin, Israfil and Kol.

‘We will give you your tithe of flesh,’ Uldin said, no preamble, ‘send you warriors from amongst the Sirak and Cheren.’

A silent sigh seemed to ripple through the courtyard, the change to Israfil and Kol minuscule, but Bleda noticed it: a relaxing in the set of their wings, a slow breath from Kol.

Ah, Mother and Uldin hadn’t told them yet, and Israfil thought they would leave without committing to the terms. He would not have allowed that to happen. My mother and the others were no doubt tense because of the shame of it. Another stain as we bend the knee to our new masters. Why could we just not be left to live free. The Sirak are not made for the Ben-Elim’s rules and regulations; we are a people of the plain, moving with the seasons and the sun, no yoke or master to bind us in one place.

‘When we return to Arcona we shall send a small party, to show our good faith while we select and organize a larger force,’ Erdene said. ‘First you shall have one hundred riders from the Sirak, one hundred from the Cheren. More shall come later.’

‘The Sirak and Cheren are noted for their honour in this,’ Israfil said.

Honour? They are forced to bend the knee, something the Sirak have done to no one for as long as the grass wind has blown.

‘They will be the honour guard of our heirs. Of Bleda and Jin. A wedding-gift to show our commitment to their forthcoming marriage.’

Even the word marriage caused Bleda some significant discomfort and proved difficult to keep from his face.

Our honour guard! Will Israfil allow this? Technically the warriors would not be answerable to any except Jin and me. We would be their lords.

A silence grew, lengthening as Israfil considered this. Just as Bleda thought the time to answer without giving insult had passed, Israfil nodded.

‘Of course,’ he said.

Erdene nodded, and then she looked at Bleda.

‘May your arrow fly true,’ she said to him.

‘And your horse never stumble,’ he gave the response, feeling a joyous warmth spread through him.

She thinks of me as kin.