A door behind the King’s dais opened and Evnis walked in, followed by a handful of warriors, all in sable cloaks edged with gold.

Evnis looked older than the last time Rafe had seen his lord. He still walked with purpose and energy, but there was a stoop to his shoulders that hadn’t been there before, the lines of his face deeper, and silver streaked his dark hair.

‘By Asroth’s stones, if it isn’t Rafe returned to us,’ Evnis said, a grin splitting his face. As he came closer Rafe saw rings of gold and jet on Evnis’ fingers, his warrior torc wound with gold wire.

Rafe blinked. He seems genuinely pleased to see me. Without thinking, Rafe dropped to one knee and bowed his head.

‘Stand,’ Evnis said. ‘We have much to talk about, not least your adventures with Queen Rhin and the conquest of Domhain, but I think there is more to your arrival here than a yearning for home. Am I right?’

‘You are, my lord,’ Rafe said. He fumbled inside a pocket and produced the scroll that Braith had given him.

Evnis broke the seal and read.

Evnis was close enough for Rafe to smell his breath – it was sour, a hint of mead upon it; spidery veins spread across his cheeks, there was something bloated about his face. He had the look of a man who spent too much time in his cups. Rafe’s gaze drifted to the warriors behind Evnis – most he didn’t recognize, but then his eyes fell upon a familiar face – Glyn with his twisted nose, broken by Tull in the sword-ring. He winked at Rafe, and he grinned in return.

Evnis looked up and stared at Rafe; his eyes still held all their wit and cunning.

‘So,’ Evnis said. ‘News indeed. Glyn, muster a hundred swords, we are riding south.’

‘Aye, my lord,’ Glyn said and strode from the room.

Evnis put an arm around Rafe’s shoulder and steered him towards the doors. ‘We shall make ready and you can tell me your news. First, though, if you don’t mind, I have one question to ask of you.’

‘Of course, my lord.’

‘Have you seen my son?’

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CYWEN

Cywen sat with Brina against the trunk of a broad oak. It was late in the evening but still light, both sun and moon sharing the sky above; dusk was settling about them.

‘Again,’ Brina said.

‘Lasair. Uisce. Talamh. Aer.’

‘Good,’ Brina said.

Good! That’s the first time she’s used that word and aimed it at me. Cywen couldn’t keep the smile off her face. She’d been officially titled as Brina’s apprentice for over two moons now, spring turning to summer as they travelled through the realm of Narvon.