Rafe was in the first boat leading the way, his two grey hounds sitting in it as still as stone, like figureheads. Warriors behind Evnis rowed them deeper into the lake, more boats following, others filtering from a series of streams and rivers along the north-eastern bank of the lake. Before half of them had emerged from the marshland streams a boat appeared from between two towers that loomed out of the lake. It rowed towards them.

‘Hold,’ Evnis said, raising a hand, his men backing water, the motion continuing through the boats behind him.

The lone boat rowed closer, four or five figures within it, the first with long fair hair.

Surely not . . .

Oars backed water and the boat stopped, drifting for a moment until it was side-on to Evnis’ boat, maybe fifty paces away. Half of Evnis’ fleet were spread behind him, the other half still backed up in the streams and rivers.

Edana stood in her boat. Evnis smiled to see her. She was dressed plainly, looking more like a woodsman than a queen, in woollen breeches, a linen shirt and black leather vest, though she wore the grey cloak of Ardan around her shoulders, something that Evnis hadn’t seen for a while. And she wore a sword at her hip.

He almost laughed at that.

‘There does not need to be bloodshed here today,’ she called out, her voice carrying across the still waters of the lake.

It’s unlikely to be our blood, Evnis thought. Perhaps you mean your own.

Edana looked at the warriors in their boats, taking her time to meet their eyes. Men behind Evnis fidgeted.

‘There are men of Ardan amongst you, true-born warriors of Ardan who fought for my father.’

Aye, there are, and now they fight for me. Most of them have always fought for me.

‘Men of Narvon, maybe, Owain’s men. And warriors from Domhain, perhaps, who once served Eremon.’

Tw o figures stood in Edana’s boat, one dressed as a warrior, dark-haired, though Evnis could see he was little more than a lad, beside him a woman, tall and dark-haired, her chin lifted proudly.

A rare beauty, Evnis thought.

‘This is Roisin of Domhain, wife of Eremon, and her son Lorcan, rightful King of Domhain.’

Excellent. This is most helpful of you, Edana, gathering all of the rats into one boat. You are making my life so much easier.

‘You are fighting as pawns for a woman with a black heart, a manipulator, deceiver, a betrayer. Rhin is not a queen; she is a tyrant, a disease that must be cut out.’

Much to his surprise Evnis found himself listening, as if Edana actually had something to say. He pulled his eyes away from her, looked at the others in her boat, sitting at the oars. One of them was Halion, the warrior sitting calmly, his eyes scanning the boats behind Evnis. He looked to the other rower and started.

It was Vonn.