My back aches. He’d joined Braith and ridden through the meadows for a while, but then the hounds had become excited, so agitated that they had been forced to dismount and creep through the meadow grass, crouching low. It felt as if they’d been walking for a ten-night, but in truth it was only a little past highsun. Long enough to cripple my back. I am a king now; I should not be slinking through the grass like a snake. Not for the first time he reminded himself why he was here. Edana, a threat to my crown. And Vonn, my son. Just a little more patience and all will be well. Edana dead, Vonn back at my side. And I can do patience. There have been years of waiting, and now my dream is reality. I rule Ardan. At first it had been the most overwhelmingly euphoric feeling, just knowing that he was king. Lord of all he surveyed. Crossing Stonegate as the lord of Dun Carreg, walking into the feast-hall as king. Not king, a voice whispered in his head. As Rhin’s regent.

That does not matter. The reality is that I rule.

Rafe stopped in front of him and Evnis almost collided with him. He slipped to the side, saw the two hounds a dozen paces ahead, their whole bodies trembling, tense as drawn bowstrings. They were staring straight ahead. Rafe put a hand on each one and they seemed to calm, marginally.

Evnis saw the tower, part of a larger hold with a palisaded wall around it. A figure moved along the wall, even from this distance the black and gold of his cloak catching the sun. Closer, about a hundred paces to the left, stood an old thick-trunked tree. A horse was cropping grass before it. It was saddled, but riderless.

Evnis opened his mouth to speak but Braith put a finger to his mouth, then pointed.

Something was moving in the long grass ahead of them, a ripple that went against the breeze.

They sat and watched, the sun sliding across the sky. Sweat dripped into Evnis’ eyes. His back muscles burned, slowly began to scream at him.

Just when he thought he could stand it no longer a man stood in the long grass, back to them. He raised a bow, pointing it ahead and drew an arrow.

Braith gasped, a name hissed venomously as quiet as the breeze. ‘Camlin.’

Evnis saw the huntsman reach for his own quiver of arrows, at the same time slipping his strung bow from his back. Evnis reached out and gripped his wrist.

Braith stared at him, and for a moment Evnis saw murder in the huntsman’s eyes.

Evnis shook his head. He mouthed a word.

Edana.

Slowly, incrementally he saw the commitment to violence leave Braith’s face.

Then Camlin was moving forwards, another figure emerging from the grass a little further ahead. Evnis recognized him instantly.