‘Exciting, isn’t it?’ the queen went on. ‘A wedding. Tomorrow morning.’ The queen pointed a ringed finger at Astrid, treating the girl to a conspiratorial wink. ‘And your father played no small part in the whole affair.’ She gave a little clap of her hands. The gesture was almost childlike.

‘My father?’

‘My husband-to-be was first sent to these lands by Mirvar Rivengeld many moons ago. Since then he has been back and forth, back and forth between our kingdoms. But now he has returned for good!’

‘May I ask his name?’ Fleya said, her voice laced with dread.

No sooner had the question left her lips than a man stepped forth from the deepest shadows at the rear of the great hall, making his way through the courtiers until he stood beside Vorneland’s ruler.

Mounting the dais to the wooden throne, the exiled jarl, Glaeverssun, took up Favner’s hand and planted a kiss on it before looking back to the trio.

‘Princess Astrid, my dear. Isn’t it wonderful news? And imagine my surprise when I heard the three of you were in these lands!’ His hideous smile broadened. ‘Your arrival here is like an early wedding present – isn’t that so, my dear?’ He nodded at the queen before returning his attention to his prisoners. ‘I myself have been crossing over the border to Vorneland for well over a year now. Your father had heard reports that Queen Favner might be experiencing some personal issues. He was concerned the rumours about her could spell trouble for the region, so he sent me here regularly to check things out. During my visits the queen and I became rather … fond of each other. So, when I was so rudely expelled from my own lands and kingdom –’ he shot the trio a less than friendly look – ‘I came here to ask for succour.’

‘And for the queen’s hand in marriage,’ Astrid said, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice.

He gave a coy little smile. ‘In fact, Queen Favner did me the honour, and I accepted with all gratitude.’

Fleya let out a little hiss of disgust.

‘How did you know we were in Vorneland?’ she asked. She directed her question to the queen, but it was Glaeverssun who answered.

‘I still have friends in Stromgard. They told me of a covert mission – two women and a boy leaving the palace on the king’s finest horses, and how the lad carried a black blade at his side …’

At the mention of the Dreadblade, Lann lifted his head and glared at the disgraced jarl through red-rimmed eyes.

Glaeverssun motioned to the guards hovering behind the trio. ‘Take our guests to their living quarters, please.’ He grinned at them. ‘You will not find them particularly appealing, I’m afraid. But they’re no worse than the ones I found myself in after I displeased you, Princess.’