He came awake with a start. Rhin and Braith were still in their chairs, though they were no longer talking. They were looking at the fire. Rafe stared too, and as he watched, fresh flames curled up, wood crackling, a spark spitting out onto the stone floor.

‘What—’ Rafe began.

‘Quiet,’ Rhin snapped.

A figure formed in the fire, like the thread of a tapestry being sewn upon a fabric of flame. Slowly it became clearer: a figure sitting upon a stone floor, a chain of iron about its wrists.

The figure spoke, a crackle of flame. ‘What do you want?’ Then Rafe recognized him.

Halion.

Witchcraft. Rafe felt his body prickle with goose-bumps. He wanted to get up and run, as far and fast as he could, but his feet seemed to be frozen, his arms pinned to the leather chair he was sitting in.

Another figure appeared, moving quickly. It bent over Halion, then the shackles were falling away, clanging on the stone.

‘What are you doing?’ Halion asked.

‘Get up,’ the other figure said, a man, his back to the flames.

‘I don’t understand,’ Halion muttered.

‘Rhin’s had enough of you being alive. She’s putting your head on a spike, on the morrow.’

‘Thought that would suit you. You’ve made your choices,’ Halion said.

‘Don’t be a fool, Hal.’ The figure held out his arm for Halion. ‘You’re my brother. I can’t see that done to you.’

Conall.

‘So what is this, then?’

‘It’s an escape, you idiot – what did you think?’ Rafe could almost see the grin on Conall’s face.

Halion gripped Conall’s arm and stood slowly.

‘Come with me,’ Halion said.

‘No. I don’t want to see you dead, but that doesn’t mean I want to go back to life on the run, in a saddle. And besides, I don’t like those whom you serve.’

‘The feeling’s mutual there,’ Halion said.

‘So, I’ll take you to the tunnel in the stables, give you a horse. You’re on your own from there. Where you go is your business – and don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.’

‘But Rhin’ll have your head for this.’

‘She’ll never know.’

Rhin snorted at that.

Then they were moving, disappearing from the flames.

Silence settled in the room. Rafe stared at the fire. The flames died down, shrinking back to glowing embers.

‘How did you do that?’ Rafe whispered.

‘You don’t really want to know,’ Rhin said. ‘Suffice to say that it involved the freshly flayed skin of an enemy and some blood. Actually a lot of blood. It wasn’t easy. But then, if it was, everybody would be doing it, wouldn’t they.’

Rafe swallowed, feeling his gut churn. Wish I’d never asked.

‘Never did trust that Conall.’ Braith muttered.

‘No. It’s a shame,’ Rhin sighed.

‘Did you know he would do this?’

‘I suspected.’