“Enough.” Viktor’s father laid a hand on Malachi’s shoulder. “Our time is too valuable to waste on guessing at Kai’s motives.”

“Agreed,” rumbled Viktor. “I’d rather we spent it discussing how we defend the Southshires from invasion – real, or imagined.”

Lady Kiradin’s lips thinned to a bloodless slash. Lord Tarev turned away, his attention suddenly and irrevocably focused on the map. Viktor’s father stared down at his hands. Only Lady Marest met Viktor’s gaze, her wizened features twisted in a scowl of resignation.

“What they won’t tell you, Viktor, is that they intend to do nothing.”

“Nothing?” he growled.

Malachi shot another warning glance. This time, Viktor ignored it.

“So that’s the way of it?” he demanded. “We’ve soldiers enough to act as their jailers, but when the real enemy threatens, there’s nothing to be done?”

His father looked up from the table. When he spoke, it was in flat and level tones that Viktor knew all too well. Father and son were too much alike. Neither had a firm grasp on their temper. Neither cared to be challenged in private, much less in the company of their peers.

“I don’t care for your tone, Viktor.”

“And I don’t care for your attitude.”

The room darkened, as if a passing cloud blocked the light. Ice frosted upon the lower panes of glass. Too late, Viktor realised that his shadow had slithered free, set loose by rising frustration. He rose and braced his knuckles against the table. His shadow dissipated as he bent his will upon it and receded reluctantly into the depths. The light returned to its murky glory, its significance unremarked – if indeed any had noticed.

“Katya Trelan led the Southshires in revolt fifteen years ago. Fifteen. Years. There are boys on the muster fields who weren’t born when we won the Battle of Zanya. And you’re still holding a grudge? They are our people. They deserve our protection.”

“They deserve nothing,” said Lady Kiradin. “Zanya might be fifteen years in the past, but you know the losses we incur keeping order. You consider the southwealders our people. They do not.”

“So they are our people when we wish to exploit their territory, and seize their grain? And they are not when they’re endangered?”

She gave a curt nod. “Yes. A fine summation.”

“That’s not how your son would see it.” Was Kasamor riding into danger even now? At Viktor’s own urging?

Lady Kiradin flinched as if he’d struck her about the face. “How dare you!”

Malachi shaded his eyes and hunched his shoulders. It was as though he believed he could make himself less a part of the unfolding quarrel if he bore no witness.

“Viktor.” Reason oozed from Lord Tarev’s words. “The southwealders aren’t your concern.”

“They became my concern when you gave me Katya Trelan’s seat on this council.”