‘Our task is simple. We confirm the fishermen’s reports that the narrows are blocked, and then we return to Xanthos.’

Dion ignored Cob, instead looking ahead to check their course. The boat was sailing with the looming mainland cliffs on the left and the lower but still imposing heights of the isle of Coros on the right. As the boat sped along, the passage became slimmer and the opposing cliffs grew closer. The air smelled of salt and sea and even on the higher gunwale cool water splashed his face.

Soon they would be at the narrows, the place where the cliffs were at their closest. It was the only sea route between Xanthos and Phalesia. Well, there was another, but Dion wasn’t ready to talk to Cob about that quite yet.

Glancing back at Cob, he saw the old man with his hand on the tiller, glancing up at the jagged black cliffs and grimacing. He was stunted and bald, a full foot shorter than Dion, and were it not for his aptitude with boats Dion wasn’t sure what the old sailor’s place in the world could have been.

‘Just like me,’ Dion murmured to himself.

In his full growth of manhood, twenty years old, Dion should by now have been commanding regiments in his father’s service. His older brother Nikolas was not only heir to the throne, he was commander of Xanthos’s powerful army, with King Markos now too old to lead the men.

But Nikolas and Dion were as unlike each other as two men could be. There was nothing wrong with Dion’s strength or agility, but the handling of swords and shields had never come to him, no matter how hard he’d tried. Despite staying up late into the night in the practice ground, hacking at dummies and getting instruction from anyone who would teach him, the sword simply fell out of numb fingers when he tried to make a strike, and the shield dropped every time he took a blow. Still he persisted, and then his older brother suggested archery.

To Dion’s surprise, the handling of a bow came as naturally to him as breathing. He practiced in secret, developing his skill until he could hit the center of a target at seventy paces nine times out of ten. His brother was proud, and together they arranged a demonstration for their father.

But in Xanthos, archery was not considered a suitable skill for a king’s son. The army’s strength came from the coordinated phalanxes of hoplites, working together with shield, sword, and spear. King Markos didn’t even stay long enough to see Dion’s proficiency before he forbade further practice.

The young Dion could no longer entertain a position in the army.