‘Same as the rest of us, my friend,’ Foss said sleepily, roused from his doze. ‘She’s occasionally useful. And it’s not like she has anywhere else to go.’

‘We could fling her over the side. That’d provide a fresh direction of travel.’

Chel rolled his stiff shoulder around in its socket. The thought of landfall, and the magnitude of what faced them, weighed on him with great suddenness, and he was feeling a sympathetic ache. ‘Do you think …’ he began. ‘Do you think we can do it?’

‘Do what?’ Lemon scratched at her mound of hair, sending up a puff of dust into the breeze. ‘Which part?’

‘All of it. Defeat Corvel and his army of confessors. Put Tarfel on the throne. Save the kingdom. We tried to gather forces and overthrow a corrupt ruler once already, and look how that turned out.’

‘Ah, but that was the Rau Rel and all their baggage. This time, we’re in charge.’

Chel shot a glance back at the stern, where the argument had moved on to words spoken at some stage two years before. ‘Good thing there’s no baggage here.’

***

‘Pay attention to this, or we’re doom-fucked from the off.’ Loveless glared at each of them in turn, silencing even Lemon, pre-quip. Chel sighed inwardly. He much preferred Loveless when she wasn’t trying to out-general Rennic, and vice versa. But then, he supposed, it really wasn’t up to him, and the better the generalling, generally the better.

‘Princeling, give them the summary,’ she continued, with a flick of her head in Tarfel’s direction. They had the stern to themselves now, the force of the latest altercation sending the crew to the ship’s opposite end. Rennic watched from the rail, arms folded, eyes narrowed beneath thunderous brows.

Tarfel cleared his throat. His mood seemed a little brighter today, despite the bite of the winter breeze blowing over the ship. His cheeks were rosy and his lips chapped, but Chel hoped the voyage had gone some way to hardening the prince along his path. Shepherd knew, he’d need it.

‘By now we’re all aware of what we face. My brother yearns to restore the empire of our Taneru forebears, which he may well believe is his birthright. Thanks to the events of last autumn, he has already pacified the more troublesome parts of the north. He now sets his gaze upon the south – the free cities, the unruly lordlings, and the disputed territories. From there, he will make war upon our neighbours, the former imperial vassals: Shenak, Amistreb, Tokemia, and then across the sea. The Taneru spread their borders wide, and Corvel believes only equivalent conquest can return Vistirlar to its once glorious station.’