Nikolas sat on the throne with his head in his hands. He heard Dion’s footsteps and looked up.

Dion approached the throne and turned to face his brother. He sank to one knee and placed his hand on his heart.

‘Brother,’ Dion said softly. ‘You are now king.’

Nikolas’s face bore the marks of grief in every line. The dark, twisted expression on his usually jovial face was one that Dion had never seen before. His reddened eyes were weary and uncaring.

‘Father said this chair was never comfortable,’ Nikolas said. He paused for a moment, as if he was finding speech difficult. ‘By the gods, I never thought I would inherit in this way.’

‘Brother . . . Sire . . .’ Dion said. ‘We need to talk—’

‘There is something I must show you,’ Nikolas said. He tugged on his thick black beard, before sighing and climbing off the throne to join Dion on the floor. ‘Come.’

Feeling growing concern, Dion followed Nikolas out to the Orange Terrace. Dion’s brother led him to the half-circle of stone benches, where so many times the family had sat in council with the crashing waves on the shore below the palace forming a backdrop to their conversation.

Nikolas waited expectantly at the circle for his brother to arrive. Dion followed his gaze and put his hands over his face before taking them away, forcing himself to see what his brother wanted him to see.

Seven-year-old Lukas sat composed on the central bench with his back leaning against the stone, staring sightlessly out at the endless blue horizon of the Maltherean Sea. He wore a clean white tunic, low at the neck, making the neat slice across his throat clearly visible.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Dion said. He didn’t know what else he could say. His mouth was dry; he struggled to form words. Lukas was an innocent. Who could kill a child?

Finally, he recovered himself enough to say what had to be said. ‘But, brother, this is no time for grief. You are king now and the struggle is not over. We have to help our allies. We must go to Phalesia to drive away the enemy forces. Then we can grieve.’

Nikolas turned his stricken eyes on his younger brother. ‘What do I care if the sun king seizes the Ark of Revelation? Or Phalesia itself? Phalesia didn’t defend us or fight with us. I owe them nothing.’