‘His plans? In disarray, I believe. That said, he cannot but view as threatening certain rogue elements beyond the highborn and their Houseblades. It is my thought that he has travelled to the Hust Legion, seeking overtures.’

Urusander grunted. ‘Toras Redone is likely to arrest him on the spot. Even execute him.’

‘Hunn Raal’s courage is beyond question, Lord, and in his defence, he does believe that he acts in the best interest of Kurald Galain. He truly yearns to see you upon the throne beside Mother Dark’s own.’

‘I will bring him to heel, High Priestess, assuming he survives to return to me.’

There was iron in that promise. ‘Lord, I have need of a place for contemplation. This transformation in me is deeper than the skin I now wear. Vanity palls. So too secular ambition. When facing my sister High Priestess, I fear that I became her twisted reflection. There was poison in my heart, and I will not flinch from that truth.’

He rose from the chair. ‘This talk of sorcery makes me uneasy. You have my keep, High Priestess. I will go now to my command tent in the Legion camp.’

‘I understand that Lieutenant Serap is here. She will know more of Hunn Raal’s plans.’

‘She states otherwise.’

‘Do you believe her?’

His gaze narrowed. ‘I begin to wonder whom to believe, High Priestess. Advisers seem to breed like vermin around me, and the more there are the fewer I trust.’

She bowed. ‘I will remain in the keep, Lord, and not seek you out.’

Urusander’s smile was ironic, but he left without another word. It was some time before she understood, and could give words to his expression. ‘Why did you not make that vow in Kharkanas a week past?’ In courtesy, he had not uttered this question, but she knew now that such courtesy was more than she deserved.

Few shadows in the room, and darkness humbled and cowering wherever it could – these details whispered like blessings through her thoughts. He gave her his keep, but said nothing of sanctuary. She wondered if enemies were seeking her, hunting her. In matters of trust, she was no different from Urusander himself.

Perhaps this is what can bind the two of us.

Would that Osserc were here. She had heard that he was a fine-looking man, possessing a wealth of appetites yet purportedly weak in spirit. A useful combination, all things considered.

Syntara had begged time and place for contemplation, and this sentiment was humble in its veracity. She still struggled to abjure the influence of old hatreds and spites, but her own thoughts, when speaking with Urusander, returned to her again and again. Dark and Light … as the right hand opposes the left.

Urusander, I begin to see a way to draw those hands together, to clasp in union and so find strength in balance. And no, we need not speak of love, only necessity. Something I think you understand. We shall make you Father Light, whether you welcome the title or not.