“His majesty is a forgiving soul. I am not.” Silk whispered as Haldrane stepped closer. “Were you to betray his trust, my recommendation would be to raze every cot and field between here and the border. To sow every scrap of soil with salt.”

Drenn leapt to her feet, her sword scraping from its scabbard. “Might find that hard without a head!”

Uproar overtook the hollow as a hundred voices vied for dominance. Steel glinted as Drenn’s followers readied blades or set arrows to bowstrings.

The icularis made no move to draw their own weapons. Haldrane’s gaze bored into Crovan throughout, oblivious to the commotion.

“Were I not to return . . .” A raised voice was his only concession to the clamour. “. . . then the burden of advice would fall upon another. His counsel would be no different. He might even levy a heavier coin for the discourtesy of my murder. Your children, perhaps. I’m sure, in time, they would embrace the loyalty you reject.”

Crovan gritted his teeth. “You ask us to fight our countrymen.”

“You have fought them for years on end,” Haldrane snapped. “You make distinction among your own kind only when it pleases you. Or does the Wolf King not remember his time under arms in the Council’s service? Does he believe we have not noted his haemorrhaging support? You promised us unity, majesty.”

Crovan saw now that this had always been the shadowthorns’ intent. It wasn’t what he wanted – what he’d planned for. Perhaps he should have let Josiri have his way. “Do you have any further requests?”

Haldrane spread his hands, his manner suddenly that of a supplicant, not an extortionist. “You need offer no answer today. By your actions on the field we shall know your heart.”

The icularis strode out of the hollow. No one moved to stop them. All stood transfixed. Only when the last whisper of black robes had vanished into the trees did Silda Drenn throw down her sword with a cry of disgust.

“Raven’s Eyes, Crovan! You a wolf or a scared pup?”

“And you’ve a better idea, I suppose?” Crovan growled.

“I won’t do it.” Gavamor toyed with the lion amulet about his neck. “I’ve no love for the northwealders, but I won’t fight Halvor, Merrik and the rest. They’re our people, for Lumestra’s sake!”

Crovan closed his eyes. Answers came easier in the dark. Perhaps this one would also. There it was. The truth the light had hidden. That Gavamor, Drenn and the others were weak. More scared than he. That’s why he led, and they followed. He need only stay strong a while longer. After all, everything would change at dawn.

He let the confidence of the dark fill him. Embraced the solace it offered as he had when facing down Josiri in this very place. The solace of that long night in the gloom of Skazit Maze.