Bayaz’ chin went up a little, his brows drew down. ‘Perhaps. And?’

‘And while the great Lord Brock had allies and enemies in abundance, his son has none. He has been scorned and ignored for eight years. He is part of no faction, has no agenda but faithfully to serve the crown. He has more than proved his honesty, bravery and unquestioning loyalty to his Majesty on the field of battle.’ She fixed Bayaz with her gaze. ‘It would be a fine story to tell. Instead of lowering himself to dabble in base politics, our monarch chooses to reward faithful service, merit and old-time heroism. The commoners would enjoy it, I think.’

‘Faithful service, merit and heroism. Fine qualities in a soldier.’ As though talking about fat on a pig. ‘But a lord governor is first a politician. Flexibility, ruthlessness and an eye for expediency are more his talents. How is your husband there?’

‘Weak, but perhaps someone close to him could supply those qualities.’

She fancied Bayaz had the ghost of a smile about his lips. ‘I am beginning to suspect they could. You make an interesting suggestion.’

‘You have not thought of everything, then?’

‘Only the truly ignorant believe they have thought of everything. I might even mention it to my colleagues on the Closed Council when we next meet.’

‘I would have thought it would be best to make a choice swiftly, rather than to allow the whole thing to become … an issue. I cannot be considered impartial but, even so, I truly believe my husband to be the best man in the Union.’

Bayaz gave a dry chuckle. ‘Who says I want the best man? It may be that a fool and a weakling as lord governor of Angland would suit everyone better. A fool and a weakling with a stupid, cowardly wife.’

‘That, I am afraid, I cannot offer you. Have an apple.’ And she tossed it at him, made him juggle it with one hand before catching it in the other, his cup tumbling into the sedge, his brows up in surprise. Before he could speak she was already walking away. She could hardly even remember what their conversation had been about. Her mind was entirely taken up with the way that blue cheek bulged as steel slid underneath it, pushing it in, pushing it in.

For What We Are About to Receive …

It’s an awful fine line between being raised above folk like a leader and being raised above ’em like a hanged man on display. When Craw climbed up on an empty crate to give his little speech, he had to admit he felt closer to the latter. A sea of faces opened up in front of him, the Heroes packed with men from one side of the circle to the other and plenty more pressing in outside. Didn’t help that Black Dow’s own Carls were the grimmest, darkest, toughest-looking crowd you’d find anywhere in the North. And you’ll find a lot of tough crowds in the North. Probably these were a long stretch more interested in doing plunder, rape and murder than anyone’s idea of the right thing, and didn’t care much who got on the pointy end of it either.