As the guards examined them both, Chloe struggled to keep her composure. If she appeared frightened, or attracted their curiosity, their plan would fail, and she and Finn would most likely be killed.

‘The king is expecting you,’ the older of the two guards said in a deep baritone.

‘Come, scribe,’ Finn ordered.

Chloe followed close behind as he climbed the steps and then walked along a stone passage with soft mats of dyed wool underfoot. Light beckoned ahead and then she saw that they were approaching an expansive throne room.

Finn entered grandly. Chloe trailed after him, but she couldn’t help herself.

Her eyes immediately went to Dion.

He was slumped against the rear wall with an iron collar around his neck and his hands behind his back. There were manacles around his wrists, connected by a chain to a metal hoop embedded in the wall. His sharp jaw was clean-shaven, his flaxen hair was oiled, and his tunic was clean – but his downcast face was pained; she could see that at a glance. She felt a surge of emotion, wanting nothing more than to rush to his side, but she tore her eyes away.

Her gaze then moved to the tall king standing at one of the windows and staring out to sea.

Palemon was everything Finn had said he was: tall and regal, with flowing dark hair streaked with gray, and a long beard fashioned into braids. He wore a bleached leather vest, black trousers, and high boots. When he turned to acknowledge Finn’s entry, his eyes were narrowed and penetrating, his strong jaw fixed with determination.

Chloe’s hands felt clammy and sweat broke out on her brow. She was suddenly extremely grateful for Finn’s presence, for his confidence and habit of drawing attention.

‘Great King,’ Finn said, walking with his head held high to the center of the room. ‘I hope this day finds you well.’ He gave a complicated bow, twirling his cloak, and then glared at Chloe.

Shaking herself, Chloe scurried to stand just behind Finn before sinking to her knees and putting her head on the floor. She wondered if she was doing it right: the customs of the south were novel to say the least, and she only had her memories of the sun king’s court in Ilea to go by. Glancing at Finn, she saw him jerk his chin for her to get up, and climbed to her feet, although she kept her eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

‘Who is this?’ Palemon’s voice was like his appearance: bold, commanding, solid. His accent had the same clipped inflections as the men who’d taken Liana.

‘She is my scribe, Great King,’ Finn said.

Palemon’s gaze flickered to Chloe. ‘A female scribe?’

‘The city is short on scribes,’ Finn said with a smile and a shrug.

Palemon’s eyes lingered on her for an instant before dismissing her.