“I have been abducted.” Cerelinde’s voice trembled, with anger and the effort of holding her fear at bay. “Abducted by force, brought here against my will, held captive by—” Catching sight of Ushahin huddled against the far wall, she pointed with a shaking finger. “By creatures, by Fjeltroll and that foul Misbegotten—”

“Enough!” Tanaros struck her hand down, a sharp, shocking blow.

Too close for comfort, they stared at one another.

“Your people abandoned Ushahin, Lady,” Tanaros said to her. “Remember that. Such as he is, your own children would have been, had you wed Aracus Altorus.”

“Never!” She flung the denial out in defiance, his words touching on her darkest fear. “They will be conceived in love, in accordance with Haomane’s Prophecy.” Cerelinde shook her head. “It is not the same, not the same at all. Why do you think we name him thusly? It is not for the mixing of the races. Ushahin the Misbegotten was conceived in lust, in base desire.” She pronounced the words with distaste. “The Sunderer’s Gift, not fair Arahila’s.”

Tanaros raised his brows. “Thus you hold him accountable for his birth?”

“Not his birth, but what he has made of the ill-conceived life he was given,” Cerelinde said evenly. “And my folk gave him into the care of yours, Tanaros Kingslayer. We are not to blame for the cruelty wrought by the children of Men.”

“No.” He looked away from her, gazing at Ushahin. “And yet you were quicker to abandon him than the children of Men were to assail him. Only Oronin’s Children rose above such pettiness. The Were took him in when none other would.” His gaze returned to hers. “Leave him be. He lost more than any of us in Lindanen Dale.”

She remembered the grey forms in their midst, Aracus engaged in combat. Her breath was quick and shallow. “The one who attacked my betrothed …”

“The Dreamspinner called her ‘mother,’” Tanaros said quietly. “Remember that, when you condemn us in Haomane’s name, Lady. You have my word as surety: No harm will come to you here.”

Bowing stiffly, he took his leave.

Cerelinde watched him go. A part of her heart soared, for if his words were true, it meant that Aracus lived. As dire as her prospects appeared, while they both drew breath, hope must not be abandoned. Haomane’s Prophecy might yet be fulfilled, and Satoris Banewreaker destroyed through his own folly.

And yet she was troubled.

Tanaros moved through the encampment, greeting the Fjel, checking on his injured Men, making his way to Ushahin’s side. There he squatted on his heels, speaking in low tones, one hand on the Misbegotten’s shoulder.

He was her enemy, one of the Three. He had killed his wife and slain his King. He was the servant of Satoris Banewreaker.

He was not at all what she had expected.

THE WHITE SLIVER OF THE new moon was bright enough to cast shadows.