Fidele stood in Lamar’s chambers situated at the very top of the high tower of Ripa, gazing out of the window onto the landscape beyond – limestone cliffs, the horseshoe of the bay and the wide sea beyond. Black sails studded the waters, settled about the bay like a murder of crows.

The Vin Thalun. Will we ever be rid of them?

Over a moon now she had been here, surrounded by the enemy. Lykos was out there somewhere, she knew that. Once, not so long ago, that thought would have filled her with rage, and with fear. Now, though, something else consumed her thoughts.

Someone. Maquin.

I feel . . . happy. A ten-night had passed since Maquin had awoken, since she’d found him awake and kissed him.

He did tell me that he’d returned from death for me. Truth be told, though, he hadn’t needed to say anything. When she’d seen him collapse in the feast-hall she thought she’d lost him – and something in her had died. The feelings of relief when he had awoken had overwhelmed her like some dark, powerful wave. It’s ridiculous. And yet, she felt happy, for the first time since . . .

Since before Aquilus died. I should feel guilty about that. My dead husband. And yet a lifetime has passed since then.

‘My lady?’ a voice said behind her.

She turned. Peritus was standing beside their council table, maps strewn across it, platters of food and jugs of wine.

‘Yes?’ she said.

‘We have much to speak on; are you ready to begin?’ Peritus said.

‘Of course.’ She turned and sat at the table. Lamar was there, flanked by his sons Krelis and Ektor, as well as Peritus, once battle-chief of Tenebral, until Nathair had replaced him with Veradis.

‘The messenger told me you had news?’ Fidele said.

‘That is true,’ Lamar said. He looked older than the last time she had seen him, his skin sagging like melted wax upon the frame of his skull. His eyes were sharp, though. And hard.

‘Marcellin marches,’ Peritus said. ‘He has gathered his warband, and the eagle-guard that had been sent on fool’s errands when . . .’ He paused, looking into his cup. ‘Sent to the kingdom’s borders by Lykos.’

Fidele took a deep breath at that. When Lykos had controlled her through his witchcraft he had governed Tenebral through her. She had signed letters, orders written by him that sent the most loyal of her eagle-guard to the fringes of the realm, on the pretext of giant raids or supposed sightings of lawless men. All untrue, part of Lykos’ scheming to ensure that the balance of power in Jerolin remained in favour of the Vin Thalun. She knew that she had had no control of the matter, but that didn’t stop her feeling shame for it.

‘That is good news,’ she said.

‘Your letter to him must have convinced him, my lady,’ Peritus said.