A key rattled in a lock, the door at the end of the corridor swinging open and feet slapping on stone, splashing through puddles in the dank corridor, voices protesting. One of them making him stand and run to the bars.

Fidele.

She was being escorted into the corridor by eagle-guard, along with Krelis, Ektor and Peritus. At a glance it was clear that they were prisoners, their scabbards empty of swords.

The eagle-guard filed towards his cell, one of them muttering and rifling through a ring of keys. He stopped and opened the first cell, a few doors before Maquin’s, thrust Ektor into it, the young man spluttering at the indignity, moved on to the next cell, where Peritus was thrown, then the cell the other side of Maquin, placed Fidele in there, and finally the last one for Krelis.

The eagle-guard filed out without a word, looking somewhat shame-faced and confused at having locked their own Queen away.

‘Didn’t think I’d be seeing you down here,’ Maquin said, as close to Fidele’s cell as he could get.

‘As dark as things have become, my heart still skips to see you,’ her voice came back to him.

He reached a hand out through the bars and felt her fingers lace with his.

‘What happened?’ he said.

‘Nathair is a madman, that’s what happened,’ Krelis yelled, slamming his cell bars, sending a cloud of dust puffing into the corridor.

‘Something terrible,’ Fidele said, and proceeded to tell Maquin of the meeting with Nathair.

‘More like a sentencing, not even a trial,’ Krelis growled. ‘We should have fought in Tenebral, killed Lykos when we had the chance.’

I remember advising that exact course of action.

You are blinded by your thirst for revenge, Ektor had said. You’re not seeing clearly,

Not blinded. Driven.

Mind you, in light of the events in the tent, he does have a point.

‘And we should never have walked into that tent, then father would still be alive . . .’ Krelis was muttering.

‘Ifs and buts will not help us now,’ Ektor said from his cell. ‘We must think of a way out of this, else we’ll all end up in a group execution alongside Maquin.’

Comforting.

‘And Fidele, perhaps you should not have accused Calidus of being Kadoshim,’ Ektor said.

‘It is the truth.’

‘Like as not, you are right. I have suspected the same. But to stand and point a finger when you are surrounded by what, six, eight thousand men sworn to him and Nathair?’

‘Aye,’ Fidele muttered, ‘the timing could have been better, I’ll give you that.’

Kadoshim? The God-War that Orgull spoke of. Is there no escaping it? Will it suck us all into its jaws.

‘So what do we do?’ Krelis said. ‘How do we get out of here?’

‘We bide our time,’ Peritus said. ‘Hope for an opportunity, and if one presents itself, we seize it.’

If there is one.