Arathan was silent.

After a long moment, Draconus continued. ‘Until now, there is little that has impressed me about you – tell me, do you imagine your gnawing upon your fingers well suits the man you have become? This habit has even damaged your ability with the sword, and should it continue, Arathan, it may well see you killed. The hand holding the sword must be firm, lest what you will is failed by what you achieve.’

‘Yes sir. I am sorry.’

‘That said,’ Draconus grunted, ‘women will appreciate your touch in tender places.’

Something slammed down inside Arathan, and he knew then that Feren had reported to his father. In detail. She had done as her lord commanded. She belonged to Draconus, just as did Rint and Sergeant Raskan – everyone here, except for Arathan himself, was but an extension of his father’s will. Like weapons, and my father’s hand is surely firm. Will is bound to deed and no room for failure. ‘I am sorry that Sagander was injured,’ he said in a dull tone.

‘You have outgrown him, Arathan. Hellar was right in dismissing him – she knew your mind before you did. Remember that, and in the future trust in it.’

‘Yes sir.’

‘Have you pain in your head, Arathan? I believe Rint has some willow bark.’

‘No, sir. No pain at all.’

‘You are quick to recover, then. Perhaps that is yet another of your gifts, so well hidden until now.’

‘Yes sir.’

‘Understand, Arathan. If you were to have remained at my keep, you would have been vulnerable. I have enemies. Your half-sisters, however, are protected. Though their mother is no longer with us, her family is powerful. The same cannot be said for your mother. To get to me, my enemies could well look to you. Especially now, as you come of age.’

‘Sir, would it not have been easier to kill me when I was a child, unskilled with the blade, too trusting in adults?’

Draconus glanced across at him. ‘I was not speaking of direct violence, Arathan. Your being dead would remove the vulnerability that you pose to me and my interests.’

‘They would kidnap me?’

‘No. You are a bastard son. You are meaningless and worthless as a hostage.’

‘Then I do not understand, sir. What would they want of me?’

‘Arathan, you will be a young man with grievances. Against your father, who refuses to acknowledge you as his rightful son. Being young, you possess ambitions. My enemies will approach you, feeding both your anger and your desires. They will guide you into betrayal.’

You send me away to protect yourself. I am indeed your weakness. Because you do not trust me. ‘I have no ambitions,’ he said.

‘I might well believe that – no, I do not think you are lying. But time twists every path. You cannot claim to know your mind in the future. And we must be honest here – you have no cause to love me, or feel any manner of loyalty towards me.’