The prince took in a long breath through his nose and pulled himself straight. ‘If I am to be honest with you, Vedren, and I believe I should always be honest with my first sworn,’ Chel nodded along, feeling his trail-aches creeping back with renewed vigour, ‘then no, everything is not all right. I have been … ill-used, Vedren, and certainly ill-served.’

‘How so? Do you mind if I sit, Tarf, it’s been quite a trip.’

‘What? Yes, by all means, although not on those boxes, they’re a little, ah, unsteady. Perhaps outside?’ They emerged, blinking, as Tarfel continued. ‘Ill-served, Vedren, for the duration of your absence. When first we witnessed your abduction outside the walls of Merenghi, I demanded the mercenary intercede but she refused. I commanded her to rescue you, and she refused again. Instead she kept me huddled in a hedge while she went off and planted little flags. Then!’ He was beginning to pace, the soft mud of the yard smearing his boots. ‘Then, instead of awaiting your escape, she force-marched me across the countryside, made me hide in trees, in ditches – ditches, Vedren! Cold, icy, slimy ditches! – avoiding anything that could be considered civilization until we reached this place.’

He stopped and waved a regal arm around him, before leaning forward to meet Chel’s drooping eyeline. ‘Now, Vedren, I realize that I must travel incognito, to keep my royal status under our collective bonnet, but I am still a prince beneath my simple garb and I am still in command of this expedition, this great endeavour, the salvation of our kingdom. Yet since finding the rest of our company, every one of them has done little more than ignore me, or worse, give me orders. Orders, Vedren! I’m the prince!’

Chel tried to offer a smile that was both sympathetic and calming. He was very tired, and the prince’s cheeks were getting redder by the moment. ‘And if that weren’t enough,’ the prince continued, his voice now what passed for a low growl, ‘do you know what day it is, Vedren?’

‘Not enough?’ Chel shook his head. ‘The first day after the spring moon, I think.’

‘Exactly,’ Tarfel replied. ‘The spring festival is upon us.’ He took a long, shuddering breath, and Chel saw tears glisten in the corners of his pale eyes. ‘We have missed my birthday.’

Chel felt the silence stretch, and summoned what strength he had left. ‘Your birthday?’

‘It’s a week before the new light festival. I was … I’m eighteen now.’

Chel swallowed. ‘Happy … belated birthday.’

‘Father always said that you became a man, a true man, at eighteen. My brother received new titles, had a lavish feast that went on for days. All the vassals came, bringing gifts, tokens, offers of marriage …’

‘I’m so sorry you missed it, Tarf.’