“Then they’ll learn fast,” said Viktor. “And if the Hadari do land in the north, we’ll need eyes more than swords. We have leagues of coastline to watch. I’d rather the task fell to inexperienced soldiers than excitable farmers.”

“I agree with Viktor,” said Malachi.

“Why, of course you do.” Lady Kiradin sat forward and steepled her fingers. “So do I. Any objections?”

Unexpected. Especially after her earlier insults. But Viktor was prepared to take his triumphs where he could find them. And Hadari loose in the shire lands were as little to Lady Kiradin’s benefit as anyone else’s. Much of the Kiradin wealth came from rents in the Eastshires, and dead tenants didn’t pay up.

Lord Tarev shook his head. After a moment, Lady Marest did the same.

The sharp crack of the gavel brought the matter to a close.

Viktor’s father set the hammer aside. “Then it’s agreed. I trust you’ll make the arrangements, Viktor?”

He nodded. “With the proper authorisation.”

“You’ll have it. I only pray that your fears prove unfounded.”

“As do we all,” said Lady Marest.

Lord Tarev shrugged. “At least Maggad doesn’t have the Golden Court’s full backing. Most of the other princes are waiting to see what happens next before deciding where to commit their spears.”

“That’ll change if Maggad starts winning,” Viktor rejoined.

“If either of them start winning,” said Tarev.

“Either of them?” Malachi straightened, forcing a pained creak from his chair’s time-worn timber. “What do you mean?”

“Maggad isn’t the only one with an army at his back . . .”

“This council is no place for speculation,” snapped Lady Kiradin.

Lord Tarev’s lip curled in irritation. “With respect, Ebigail, this is not speculation.”

“Fanciful nonsense. One wayfarer catches a glimpse of an owl banner, and now they’re all busy spreading stories. It’s what soldiers do best, after all. Apart from dying.”

Viktor focused his attention on his father. The elder Akadra had sat uncharacteristically silent throughout the exchange. Throughout the whole meeting. Whatever facts Lady Kiradin wished suppressed, he already knew. “I’d like to hear this speculation.”

His father sighed. “It has been suggested – and I stress, suggested – that Kai Saran means to make passage of the mountains at Trelszon.”

“He’s after the Southshires?”

“We’ve no proof of that.”

“There never is,” growled Viktor. “Not until the dying begins. By then, it’s too late.”

Lady Kiradin waved a dismissive hand. “It’s a distraction.”

“Is it?” said Malachi. “A Saran has sat on the Imperial throne for generations. Do we believe Prince Kai will do nothing while another man steals his father’s crown?”

“Who can say how a shadowthorn thinks?” said Lady Marest. “Perhaps he knows, as we do, that Maggad is doomed to humiliating defeat, and intends to distance himself from it.”

“Which he’d do far better in Tregard, building his standing with the Golden Court.”