The River Avenne ran close by; in the evening’s stillness he could hear the waters foaming over the wedge-shaped weir. Drawn to the tumultuous sound, he found himself walking up towards the rail that overlooked the river.

Swollen with spring rains and mountain snow-melt, the Avenne swirled in full torrent over the weir, sending up flecks of white spray.

Khassian stared down, unseeing, into the dark turbulence of the waters. The raw, untamed force of the river called to him.

They would not find his body until days later when it was washed up miles downstream.

Better to finish the work half-done by the Opera fire. He stood poised above the churning waters. Flecks of spray kissed his face, colder than snow. Frozen tears. His mind was as blank as the void below.

Now.

‘Illustre!’ Someone shouted his name. ‘No!’

He glanced around and vaguely saw through the mist of spray the tall figure of Acir Korentan tearing up the path towards him. A defiant smile twisted his lips. At least he would die knowing he had eluded the Commanderie.

He turned back – and stepped out into nothingness.

CHAPTER 6

Acir saw Khassian poised on the edge of the swollen river. He saw him glance back – caught the look of defiant triumph – then throw himself into the waters.

Acir was pulling off his jacket as he ran forwards, kicking off his boots as he vaulted over the railings. He paused a moment to scan the bank for a branch, a loose railing, but there was nothing.

Khassian’s head rose once above the churning waters at the centre of a swirling vortex – and then it sucked him down.

Acir took a breath – and plunged into the torrent.

The shock of the ice-cold water almost knocked the breath from his lungs. He went under – chaos of black water, white spray – then kicked upwards again, reaching out blindly for Khassian’s current-tumbled body.

His hands caught hold, his arm crooked about Khassian’s neck, dragging the head above the water.

Don’t fight me. Don’t fight me now.

The water tore at him, tugging Khassian’s body as he fought to pull it to the shore. It was a limp weight now, dragging him down, he was struggling to keep a hold on it, he was losing feeling in his fingers, they were numbed with the icy cold –

The river had become a lethal adversary – he fought it for possession of Khassian. If he lost the fight, they would both drown. He took in a mouthful of water, coughed it out, spluttering…