The Queen’s Guard finally came to a halt outside the castle walls, and as the huntsman rolled carefully onto his back and panted out his exhaustion he saw that different soldiers guarded the gates. These were dressed in a rich blue decorated with a gold lion on their chests. He recognised this uniform – and it wasn’t of his own kingdom’s alliance. They wore silver helmets that, unlike the Queen’s Guard, did not cover their faces. Why were the Queen’s Guard hiding their identities, he wondered. Were they unpopular or did the anonymity guarantee them more fear from the populace? Both were likely, judging by the bristling of both sets of soldiers’ horses, reflecting the tension between the men who rode them.

The soldiers were certainly eyeing the Queen’s Guard with a healthy dislike. The huntsman lay back and breathed hard into the dirt, happy just to have a moment of respite after being dragged so far.

Shadows fell across him and he looked up to see one of the soldiers in blue – an old dog with battle scars cutting across his weather-beaten face – standing over him. He reached down and, with one strong tug, pulled the huntsman to his feet. The world spun madly for a moment as the agony in his arms became almost sweet in its exquisiteness, but as it faded to an excruciating throb he was pleased that, although he was swaying, his trembling legs hadn’t failed him. It wasn’t just dwarves who were hardy. The men of the hunt were born tough too and he would not let them down while so far from the forests of home.

‘He killed a white stag. He deserved the ground,’ the captain snarled. ‘He’s the queen’s prisoner. One of ours. You have no right to touch him.’

‘He may well be a traitor, and if so, then I’m sure he’ll pay the price.’ The second soldier remained where he was at the huntsman’s side, defying any of the soldiers in black to knock the prisoner back down again. ‘But our king, the Commander of all the guards, queen’s and otherwise, respects bravery in all. This man hasn’t screamed on the road. Not once. We’d have heard him.’ He turned his head and spat into the dusty ground. ‘We normally do. The king would allow him to face his fate on his feet.’

‘The king isn’t here, or haven’t you noticed?’

‘But he will be back. And I still outrank you, little brother.’

‘So you do, Jeremiah, so you do.’

The huntsman looked from one to the other. Even though the captain’s face was mostly covered by the lines of his helmet, he could see the two men had the same eyes. The same chin.