‘I’m saying, Vedren, that I’m not going south to hide. I’m going to face up to my birthright, to my brother. I’m going to make him stop. It has to be me – that much I realized when I saw the remnants of the Rau Rel tear themselves to shreds at the slightest provocation. I cannot expect disparate groups with too much to lose to unify spontaneously against my brother and avert a catastrophe in these lands. Nobody else can do this, can unite the forces required to stop Corvel for good. And as your sister said, if I can’t stand up to him, who will?’

‘You’re going to ask the reavers to … help? For alliance? To be your army?’

‘Corvel has more enemies than he realizes. Why not start with the most dangerous?’

Chel could only nod and try to keep his eyebrows level. Part of his brain was beginning to sound something like an alarm bell, a sonorous and implacable suggestion that he’d made a terrible mistake in accompanying the prince, and that his death was not only inevitable but indescribably gruesome and speeding toward him at an ever-increasing rate. They cut people’s limbs off and stick poles through them while they’re still alive. That’s what they’re going to do to you, to all of you.

‘Are you all right, Vedren? You look a little peaky.’

‘I’m, uh. I’m fine, highness.’

I was supposed to be lucky.

***

Tarfel was in a good mood for the rest of the day, and Chel found his own mood lifting alongside. The prince had a certain puppyish glow when he was happy, and it happened rarely enough to be infectious. For a moment, Chel even saw some of the golden bounce of Mendel the Fair in his exuberance. Perhaps they weren’t so far removed after all.

‘Vedren,’ the prince said, ‘I think our chat earlier was the longest conversation I’ve had with anyone in months. Years, probably.’ He was quiet for a moment, then said, ‘We’re friends, aren’t we, Vedren?’

Chel didn’t permit a moment of hesitation. ‘We are, highness.’

‘Then I think you can probably call me Tarfel, Vedren.’

Chel concentrated on his footing in the gathering twilight. ‘As you wish, Tarfel.’ Then after a moment, ‘How about Tarf?’

‘Yes, why not?’

‘Tarfy?’

‘Um …’

‘Tarfy-Barfy?’

‘Well—’

‘Tarfy-Warfy-Rum-Bum?’

‘Yes, all right, Vedren, you don’t have to take the piss. I’m still a prince, remember?’

‘Right you are, Tarf.’

Both were still grinning when they stopped to camp.

***