“I spoke to the duke last night. We’re to have nothing to do with the Hadari. Whatever their business in the Southshires, they pursue it without our help.”

“Oh really? And is that his opinion, or yours?”

“I’m sure he’ll readily repeat it for you.”

“The Hadari offer an opportunity.”

“They offer nothing we can’t take for ourselves.”

“Wake up, Revekah!” Crovan leapt to his feet, an arm outflung towards Eskavord. “Josiri Trelan would have us wrapped in endless preparations for a day that will never arrive! He’s soft where it counts.”

“Not so soft that you’ve told him so to his face.”

“What’d be the point? He’d not listen. Nobles are all the same, whether they’re our own people or the Council’s lackeys. He’s serving a purpose. He’s bringing us together. Let him be content with that.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Let those of us who shoulder the real burdens make the real decisions.”

“My decision is to let him lead. And to honour his wishes about the Hadari.”

“We’ve more in common with the Hadari than the northwealders.”

“The duke doesn’t agree. He wants your promise. Which means that I want your promise.”

“And if it isn’t forthcoming?”

Revekah set her shoulders and laid her hand on her sword’s hilt. “Then you and I will fall out.”

Crovan chuckled and hung his head. “Old habits break hard, don’t they? Look at you. Fifteen years your mistress has been dead, and you’re still cracking heads in her family’s name.”

“It’s called loyalty.”

“So you say. Very well, tell the duke that I will attempt no contact with the Hadari. But tell him also that his people are growing impatient. I can’t make promises for them.”

“But you’ll discourage his people from doing anything foolish?”

“For you, Captain Halvor, of course. I wouldn’t want us to fall out.”

Revekah clambered to her feet, holding his gaze the whole time. She’d no illusions about how long the promise would hold. Crovan would do as he pleased, whenever he wished.

That was the problem with the younger generation. Values were focused inward, rather than to the betterment of others. Katya would have hated Crovan. But she’d also have found a way to make him useful. Maybe Josiri would yet do the same. Either way, there was nothing more Revekah could do.

Melanna twitched aside the wolf-pelt curtain as the footsteps faded. Crovan sat sprawled in his chair, fingers drumming against the knife-gouged table top.

“You heard?” he asked.

She nodded. “Every word.”

“She’s a fool, that one, chasing a dream.”

“Aren’t we all?”

He rose and drew nearer. A thoughtful expression tugged at his lips. “I’m not a dreamer. I believe in what I can see, what I can kill . . . and what I can touch.”