‘I swore an oath to Rath,’ Baird said. ‘See her safe to Ardan. I’ll not be letting her out of my sight after the stunt Quinn pulled. You going to try and make me an oathbreaker?’ He took a step forwards.

‘Let them in,’ a voice called from within the cabin.

The warrior hesitated a moment, then stepped aside before following them into the room.

The cabin was dark; Camlin’s eyes took a moment to adjust. Instinctively he hung back, eyes scanning for points of exit. A shuttered window on the far wall, the door behind him. That was all. The room was small, sparsely decorated – a table, two chairs, two cots built onto the walls. Roisin sat in a chair at the table, a flickering candle highlighting her pale skin, jet black hair a dark nimbus about her. She looked exhausted, cheeks gaunt, eyes dark pools of shadow, but even under these circumstances she was still beautiful.

‘Forgive Cian,’ she said with a wave at the door. ‘My shieldmen have been tense since Quinn’s betrayal.’

That’s fair enough, thought Camlin. He caught us all off-guard. Should have trusted my instincts, though. Never liked him.

‘That is understandable,’ Edana said, taking a seat and the wine that Roisin offered her.

Quinn had been King Eremon’s first-sword, Roisin’s champion. He had turned traitor on the beach in Domhain, when it had become clear that the ship they were boarding was too small to take them all to safety. With a handful of warriors he had attempted to snatch Lorcan and use him to bargain with Conall. Camlin had seen Halion put a sword through the traitor’s heart, although Quinn’s poison-tipped blade had slowed Halion enough for Conall to take him prisoner.

‘I would talk frankly with you,’ Edana said. ‘These are dark times, and some clarity would go a considerable way to easing all our minds.’

‘Dark times indeed. My husband is murdered, my kingdom stolen. My son pursued by a usurper.’

‘Yes. The crimes against us both are many. But I have not come to talk of the past, but of the future.’

‘Ask your questions,’ Roisin said, taking a long draught of her drink.

‘Your intentions. You have twenty shieldmen about you still. Do you intend to honour King Eremon’s last words to me? To set me ashore in Ardan?’

‘Ah, Eremon. The stubborn old fool. He should have fled with us. Should be here.’

They sat in silence, Roisin staring into her cup. With a shudder she lifted her gaze.

‘And what of your promise to him? To take Lorcan with you to safety? To be handbound to him?’

Edana looked at her calmly. ‘I will not be handbound to Lorcan. That agreement is dead. It was on the condition that Domhain’s warband defeated Rhin and helped me regain the throne of Ardan. Domhain’s warband is scattered; that hope gone. But if you wish, I will take you and Lorcan with me, give you what protection I can.’ She smiled wanly. ‘It may not be much. I hope to return to Ardan – as Eremon said, there is rumour of resistance gathering in the marshlands around Dun Crin – but it will be dangerous. Rhin rules there, with Evnis as her puppet. I do not know how many, if any, will be loyal to me. I cannot guarantee your or Lorcan’s safety. Your other option is to sail as fast and as far away as possible, to go into a life of hiding, but I fear Rhin will hunt you, as she has hunted me. Lorcan and I are a threat to her power: we are legitimate heirs and a standard for the dispossessed to rally around.’