Chapters (51)
- Dedication
- Contents
- PREVIOUSLY …
- PART I
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- PART II
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- PART III
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- PART IV
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- About the Author
- ALSO BY DAVID WRAGG
- About the Publisher
Chel settled in the saddle, checked the saddlebags and tested his riding posture. Still not good. ‘Like you said, someone needs to unfuck this shitstorm. And as you kept telling me, you both spied in the court and survived as a confessor in the citadel with no help from me, or from anyone else. I can’t think of anyone better qualified.’ He offered her a pained grin. ‘I have faith in you, Sab.’
Her cheeks darkened, and she coughed to cover her discomfort. ‘Flattered, truly, but where are you going?’
He looked up at the sky and smiled. ‘I’m going to … broaden my horizons. For a little while at least.’
She reached up a hand, rested it against his knee. ‘I meant it, you know. Father would have been proud of you. They’d all be proud.’ A tear glistened in her eye. ‘How could they not?’
He reached down and clasped her hand, then nodded back to where the young king stood in conference at the courtyard’s edge, courtiers swirling around him like thunderclouds.
‘Watch him for me.’
***
Chel steered the horse through the cheerful crowds to the outer city. The riders shadowing him fell away as he reached the great gate. The sun had broken through the clouds, and the spring-bright landscape beyond the walls seemed somehow open, hopeful.
An image formed in his mind, an image somewhere of an alehouse corner: Foss dozing against the wall, hands resting on his stomach; beside him, Lemon trying to make a point through a drunken haze, her finger jabbing at the table and missing; Loveless with a sleeping baby cradled in one arm, a skin of wine in the other, her eyes dark and her smile mischievous; and standing over them all like a stern but proud father, a hawk-faced man with fire in his eyes and a mocking smile.
Chel liked that image. He’d find them again. One day.
The open country unfolded before him. With the sun on his back, Chel rode.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
It’s a long road to publication for any book, and that’s before you throw global pandemics into the mix. 2020 certainly didn’t go to plan for most of us, and I’d like to extend an extra helping of thanks and deepest affection to everyone involved in getting The Righteous into your hands. May better times be ahead, and soon.
If you’ve read the acknowledgements for The Black Hawks, and I thrice-damned hope you have, then the roll-call of gratitude is much the same – the books were drafted consecutively, and many who suffered for the first got the second thrown in as a bonus. All those mentioned before are as deserving of thanks as ever, especially Jon ‘Global Head’ Brierley who was robbed of his second ‘e’ in the original printing. Sorry, Jon.