Dath has been handbound with Kulla. He smiled, a gentle joy seeping through him at the memory of his friend, at the depth of his utter, transparent joy. And then, as they seemed to do frequently and almost of their own accord, his thoughts drifted to Coralen. In truth he had thought of little else since the battle had ended. Or more specifically, of her kiss. He had wanted to talk to her, every day, had decided that he would, had steeled himself, practised the words, and then gone dry-mouthed and weak-kneed as soon as he’d seen her.

How is it that I can fight Kadoshim but I cannot talk to a woman?

Today. I will talk to her today. That gave him a pleasant feeling in his belly, part the flutter of fear, part something else.

The chamber was mostly empty now, the fire-pits a glow of embers. He stood, thinking of his bed in his chamber, then saw a figure standing before Drassil’s tree, before the spear and skeleton of Skald.

Balur One-Eye.

Corban walked over to him, stretching his neck, blinking the sleep from his eyes, came to stand beside the giant, for a moment enjoying the silence.

Eventually the burning question had to be asked.

‘Why did you kill Skald?’

Balur did not look at him, said nothing. Then he sighed, put his big slab of a hand over his face and rubbed his eyes.

‘It was a terrible thing. I was his guard, his high captain. I seized his own spear from him and slew him upon his throne.’ He said the words as if each one were a punishment.

Corban thought about that, nodded slowly. ‘Aye, that is terrible. A great trust to betray. What I know of you, though . . .’ He shook his head. ‘I cannot conceive of you doing such a thing.’

Balur raised an eyebrow at that.

‘He ordered Nemain killed. Ordered her strangled – here, before him, whilst he sat upon his throne.’

‘But Nemain was his Queen,’ Corban said.

‘Aye, she was.’

‘Then why would he do such a terrible thing?’

‘Because she was with child. And it was not his.’

‘Oh.’

Corban looked at Balur; deep grooves were etched in the folds of the giant’s face. He was ancient.

‘It was your child, wasn’t it?’

‘Aye.’

‘Ethlinn?’

Another sigh. ‘Aye.’

‘So she is your Queen, then. Queen of the Benothi.’

‘She is. Some would say she was Queen of all the Clans, even though she is bastard born.’

‘And that is her spear, then.’

‘Aye. By rights. But she will not take it. Will not claim it. One day, perhaps.’ He looked down at Corban, his face full of melancholy.

The whisper of feet echoed down to him, and Corban turned to see two figures at the great doors. Brina and Cywen. Brina gestured to him impatiently. He reached out and squeezed Balur’s hand and then he strode to Brina and Cywen.