Tarfel set off down the hallway. As Chel went to follow, he took one look back into the armoury as the stone-faced sentinel began to pull the door closed. He thought he saw a flicker of movement within, perhaps only the shadow of the door in the lamplight. But as the door pulled shut, he could have sworn that the glaive was gone.

***

It was strange to be walking the galleries of the citadel without fear of immediate arrest and imprisonment. Somehow, the place had lost its air of menace, despite scant transformation. Old scars lurked beneath the surface, though. Some stains would not wash out.

The stables were below, pungent and familiar. He wondered if he searched the packed earth floor, he might find the gouges left by Rennic’s wild crossbow shots so many months before.

‘Vedren.’ The king paused, his young face pensive, then he spoke again. ‘Vedren, do you think he’s still out there? Do you think I … have anything to worry about?’

Chel took a long breath, flexed his shoulder against the strapping. It still hurt. A lot.

‘No. Nothing at all.’

Rennic’s words echoed in his head.

Ask him where the alchemist is. Ask to see her.

‘Actually, majesty, I was hoping to stop by and see Kosh before I left, say goodbye to her. She’s here somewhere, isn’t she?’

Tarfel’s smile froze at the very corners. ‘I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible, old boy.’ Chel caught the flicker of his gaze toward the black tower that loomed overhead. ‘Matters of state and all that, she’s far too vital to risk, even to a friend.’

Chel worked hard not to turn and look up at the tower.

All the silver in the south says you won’t.

‘I see. Of course,’ he said. ‘Your majesty.’

‘Ah,’ the king said brightly, Chel’s words forgotten, ‘and here we are.’

***

‘Brother Bear, you look like cold shit. Explain yourself.’

Sabina stood before him, resplendent in court finery and revelling in his speechlessness. She seemed to dance on her toes.

‘Sab! You’re … you’re …’

‘God’s bollocks, Bear, how many more headwounds have you suffered since I saw you last? You’re thicker than second-hand pigswill.’

‘… here.’

The king cleared his throat. ‘I’ll, ah, leave you to it. I look forward to our further discussions.’ He edged away, and staff descended on him like carrion birds before he made it three paces.

‘I am,’ Sabina declared, twisting a braid in one hand. ‘Things continue to be “all well” and “deathly dull” at home, so I thought I would take up our new monarch’s invitation. I’m just sorry I missed the coronation, it sounds like you had quite the day of it. Bloody north road was a swamp.’

‘But … why?’