His father rose, Ektor standing with him.

‘Father, perhaps we could talk, soon?’ Veradis asked him.

‘Aye,’ Lamar said. He passed a hand over his eyes. ‘After we have reached our decision.’

Ektor nodded a farewell.

Lamar turned to leave, Ektor moving to hold the tent flap open for him. Fidele stood, face taut with anger, and turned to follow them.

‘Fidele,’ Lykos called after her. She paused and looked back.

‘Soon,’ he said and blew her a kiss.

Maquin’s explosion into violence was so sudden that it took Veradis half a dozen heartbeats to realize it was happening.

Maquin leaped across the table, sent it flying as he pushed off from it, cups and jugs and chairs flying, smashing, wine spraying.

Lykos was still seated; he shoved himself backwards and disappeared as his chair rolled, Maquin a heartbeat behind him, somehow a knife in his fist.

He cannot do this – it is a rowan-meet, sacred.

Veradis drew his short sword, heard people shouting, willed his feet to move after Maquin, who slashed at the rolling Lykos, blood arcing. Then Lykos’ shieldman Kolai was there, standing over Lykos, who was still tangled in his chair. Kolai and Maquin exchanged a flurry of blows, punches, chops, knife thrusts, too hard and fast for Veradis to follow. There was a wet punching sound, then, for a moment, everything was still, Maquin standing with his knife buried to the hilt up through Kolai’s lower jaw.

The Vin Thalun collapsed, one leg juddering, and the chaos began again, more shouting, Veradis feeling as if he was moving through water, trying to reach Maquin. Voices were yelling outside the tent, muffled, eagle-guard piling in, weapons drawn, bodies everywhere. Veradis stumbled on something, slipped, then felt an impact on his shoulder, turned, yelling, and something slammed into him, staggering him back a pace. A man.

It was his father, Lamar, his arms around Veradis.

What?

Then Veradis felt something warm on his hand, looked down, saw blood slicking his fist. He jerked backwards, let go of his sword hilt, the blade buried in his father’s belly. With a sigh Lamar collapsed.

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

LYKOS

Lykos scrambled on the ground, fists pulling up chunks of grass and dirt. Maquin’s face loomed over him, standing over the corpse of Kolai.

He was scared, and angry with himself for being scared, but the fear was winning out over any thoughts of revenge, screaming at him to get away.