‘Not Lykos’?’ Veradis asked. It is true, then. He almost could not believe it, even hearing it from Fidele’s own lips, had been convinced that Calidus had been mistaken.

‘No doubt you have heard many things about me, Veradis,’ Fidele said, holding her chin high.

‘I have,’ he said. You married Lykos. You ordered the execution of Armatus and Peritus. You sent the eagle-guard to the four corners of Tenebral on pointless errands.

‘They are all true. But, I did them against my will. Believe me or not, Lykos cast a bewitchment over me.’

That surprised him. He had not expected Fidele to accept the charges in the first place, but to then accuse Lykos of sorcery . . . Veradis had doubted Nathair’s judgement in choosing Lykos as his regent, he had many faults in Veradis’ opinion – but a sorcerer? He is too drunk, most of the time. His first reaction was to laugh, the accusation seemed so ludicrous, but one glance at Fidele’s face convinced him that she believed what she said. Or that she was mad.

Show her some respect. She was the high king’s wife, is mother to Nathair.

‘How did he bewitch you, my lady?’

‘I do not know how or where he learned his infernal talents,’ Fidele snapped. ‘All I know is that he had a doll, a clay figure, a strand of my hair set within it. When Maquin fought him at the arena it was crushed underfoot, destroyed, and immediately the chains within my mind were broken.’

‘So there is nothing left of this doll?’

‘Obviously not, or I would still be under his spell.’

Genius and insanity are separated by a hair’s breadth.

‘Lykos has committed countless atrocities,’ Peritus said.

‘He has burned Ripa, sunk our ships,’ Lamar said.

‘I told you they don’t like me,’ Lykos said in a mock-whisper.

Shut. Up. Nathair is right, politicking is like parenting a horde of bairns. He took a deep breath.

‘Veradis,’ a new voice said. Alben. He had stayed silent and listened, thus far. He leaned forward now, his gaze intense. ‘Lykos is false.’

What is that even supposed to mean? And what do they expect me to do? Hand them Lykos’ head on a platter?

‘Even if he is, Alben, I am not here to judge any man’s character,’ Veradis said. ‘I am a King’s messenger. Nathair has a proposal. A command.’

A silence settled over them, angry glares criss-crossing the table.

‘Let us hear it, then,’ Alben said, leaning back in his chair.

‘I will state the facts. You have grievances, that is clear. There has been a breakdown of government in Tenebral to the point of civil war. That is also clear. The next step here is battle, where many people will die.’ Veradis gestured to the tent entrance, through which gathered warbands could be glimpsed.

‘Many have already died,’ Fidele said.