She was close to the head of the column, riding with the men of Ripa – Krelis and Ektor, Alben and Peritus and almost the full strength of their warband, more than eight hundred men. Veradis had suggested he only bring an honour guard, but Krelis had refused. Fidele knew it was because he trusted no one on this journey, not even Veradis.

Even with eight hundred, if the Vin Thalun turned on us we would be sorely outnumbered. And whose side would Veradis stand upon?

Ahead of them Fidele could see Veradis, sat upon a white horse, his young captain Caesus at his side, eagle-guard marching in disciplined ranks behind them.

He has changed, been changed by this war, but there is something I still trust about Veradis, something solid at his core. In truth it was Veradis who gave her a glimmer of hope about the outcome of all of this. He clearly tried his best to remain neutral whenever Fidele spoke to him of Lykos or Maquin, impartial and objective, but she knew, could sense, that deep down he agreed with her. And that he and Maquin shared an old friendship did not hurt.

There is hope. If Nathair will not listen to the counsel of his mother, surely he will listen to that of his oldest and closest friend.

The chamber was high in the tower, a fire and torches crackling both to warm the room and to brighten the constant twilight of the forest; they were only partly successful at both tasks. Fidele sat upon a long bench; an open space lay before it, then a raised dais, a tall, high-backed chair empty upon it. Beside Fidele sat Krelis, Ektor and Peritus. None of them was in chains or bound in any way, but Fidele felt as if they were captives on trial, with eagle-guard scattered around the room, along with the black-eyed Jehar watching them dispassionately. There had been hundreds of them in the courtyard of this old giant tower, gathered around a great wain that sat in the courtyard like some brooding beast. Once upon a time the Jehar had made her feel safe, the thought of them about her son comforting her through dark nights of worry for Nathair. Now, though, with their flat black eyes and dead stares, they scared her.

Veradis was also in the room, standing with his back to Fidele beyond the empty chair, staring out of a window at the forest and wide river beyond the tower, the noise of wains creaking, auroch bellowing, whips cracking, drovers yelling orders. Fidele had glimpsed a wide swathe cut into the far side of the forest, beyond a stone bridge. A road cut straight as an arrow through the trees, heading north-east, a steady flow of traffic travelling both ways.

A door creaked open, cold air washing into the room, and Nathair strode in.

My son.