Astrid glanced about her at the other nobles present in the longhouse. Men who’d sworn allegiance to Mirvar Rivengeld, not just because of his leadership in battle, but because he made Stromgard the place it was today: a jewel in the Volken kingdoms. One look at them told her how many of these same men doubted her ability to reign. She couldn’t blame them; she felt the same way. But she had no choice. Abdication wasn’t an option. Relinquishing the crown would also mean relinquishing the ability to protect her brother, and Astrid would die before she did that.

She did not believe for one second that her brother was capable of the terrible deed he was accused of, despite the evidence against him. And on the face of it, the weight of that evidence was damning.

Erik had been seen in the market buying the ingredients necessary to poison Mirvar, and signs of potion-making were found in his private rooms. Her brother had denied this furiously, swearing to Astrid on everything he held sacred that he was not the murderer. His defence, however, was not helped by the fact that he had no recollection of anything in the build-up to the murder. She believed him. Something smelt bad about the whole affair, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. Kelewulf was nowhere to be found. Her cousin, on hearing of Mirvar’s illness, had set off on an expedition to find a cure and not returned. To top things off, an expert in poisons she had sent for, from the kingdom of Nesh, also seemed to have disappeared.

The chancellor coughed, the sound bringing Astrid from her reverie for a second time. She looked across at the man still waiting patiently for her response.

‘My apologies, Jarl Glaeverssun,’ she said, offering him a small smile. ‘But these matters you and your fellow jarls have brought before me seem small in comparison to other things weighing on my mind right now.’

‘If you would rather we come back, we could do so. Maybe in an hour?’

Astrid felt a terrible sinking feeling. She wanted nothing more than to throw off the crown and the stupid furs she’d been made to wear, and ride out into the forests to fish and hunt.

‘An hour would be fine,’ she said in a small voice.

Glaeverssun nodded and began to leave, stopping after a few steps. He turned to his queen, giving her a sad smile. ‘I wonder … If I may be so bold as to make a suggestion?’

‘What is it?’