“How about the fact that Viktor Akadra walks the Southshires? Or that your sister is his constant companion? How dare you speak to me of duty when you’ve made a deal with the Council!”

“I’ve made no deals!” shouted Josiri. “Akadra killed my mother, for pity’s sake!”

Crovan stepped down from the statue. “I think you’re prepared to sacrifice us all for your sister. Why else be so insistent we hurl ourselves at the Hadari? It’s the swiftest way of granting the northwealders their peace!”

For the first time, Jesver Merrik looked up from the fire. “Raven’s Eyes . . .”

The crowd’s murmurs blossomed to a guttural, animal rumble. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on Josiri. He’d fled Branghall thinking to use Akadra’s gift of freedom against him, but now . . . ? He was accused of the one thing he’d resisted his whole life. And no one would believe him. Even Revekah watched him with guarded eyes.

“That isn’t true!” He already knew his words were wasted. “Nothing’s changed.”

“Everything has changed.” Crovan’s eyes burned into his. “Your sister is a hostage. You’re afraid the Hadari will award your lands to another. And then along comes Lord Viktor Akadra, offering you a way out. I don’t blame you for taking it. But I’ll slit my own throat before I let you drive us into senseless battle as Malatriant once did her thralls.”

The rumble rose to a throaty growl. Voices grew loud enough for Josiri to make out individual words.

Puppet. Fool. Traitor.

Yes, the Wolf King had designs on becoming the Hadari’s client monarch, but Josiri read no deeper ambition in the darkly handsome face. Maybe he genuinely believed what he’d said of Josiri’s so-called bargain. Maybe he’d even resisted bringing it up until he’d had to. Crovan’s reputation of caring for his followers was well-proven. But in the end, it didn’t matter whether a king’s ambition or a protector’s desire drove Drakos Crovan.

“String him up! Hang him!”

The crowd picked up on the lone voice’s demand, the volume swelling as others joined the chant.

“Hang him! Hang him! Hang him!”

A wolf-cloaked man broke ranks. He took Revekah’s fist in his throat and sprawled beside the leaping bonfire. Her sword came free, challenging others to follow his example.

The crowd surged.

“Phoenixes! To me!” roared Revekah.

Moonlight washed across the glade anew. The hillside awoke with blue tabards and drawn steel. Josiri watched, hand frozen on his sword hilt. A spectator in his own life.

“Enough!” bellowed Crovan. The intimidating majesty of moments before had faded. It left a face alive with confusion and sorrow. He seized a burning brand from the fire and climbed the toppled statue once more. “Enough!”