Whisper made a little snort of laughter. Be careful what you wish for.

The captain-general of the Keys, with a disapproving glance at the re-slouching Nadej, announced the first item on the agenda: The Situation in the North, and Are We at Risk? To hear the mercenary captains tell of it, their former rivals, the northern companies, had outlived their usefulness now that hostilities in the north were concluded, and been forcibly disbanded before they turned to structured banditry. There seemed to be a general nodding around the hall at this.

Saleh of the Black Suns added that the northern companies had been a vulgar, treacherous lot, more interested in plunder than steady income and contractual stability, and had long darkened the name of professional soldiery in that part of the kingdom. There was a reason, she added, with a pointed look at Nadej, that every northern company tried to come south the moment they could scrape together the wherewithal.

Nadej’s response was not recorded in the official account.

Chel waited for the counterpoint, assuming this was a matter to be debated. Instead, the next speaker merely agreed. The situation in the south was completely different, and come the thaw the southern tribes would still come rampaging from their mountain holds, certain barons would decide their tax burden was too heavy, and the rebel cities of the south would overstep their pretence of independence. Not to mention, nodded another, that some of those rebel cities were using their newfound wealth handsomely in maintaining that independent pretence. One by one, the captains and affiliates gave themselves reasons to avoid concern.

‘What is this?’ Chel murmured to the others, trying to keep Tarfel from hearing. ‘What’s going on?’

Whisper shook her head with a wry grimace.

‘An exercise in reassuring themselves,’ Rennic muttered.

The captain-general cleared his throat and looked out over the hall. ‘Fest tells me we have had a request for a special address. Normally there would be a place for this kind of thing but I feel—’

Rennic stood forward from the wall. ‘Princeling, this is your moment. You ready?’

‘Um, well—’

‘Good.’ Rennic pushed Tarfel forward and into the glare of the hall’s attention. ‘Prince Tarfel Merimonsun,’ Rennic bellowed, silencing the hall at a stroke. In the quiet, Chel heard the small, significant sounds of a hundred hands being placed delicately on a hundred weapons.

‘Fuck off,’ came Nadej’s voice from the dais. ‘The runt prince is twice-dead.’

Tarfel looked suddenly small, hunched and alone. Chel swallowed. Then the prince straightened and pulled back his hood. His gaze was clear-eyed and defiant.

‘I assure you, I am very much alive, and I come to you with a warning.’ With a flash of his signet, he began walking around the hall toward the dais, his voice initially scratchy but carrying over the murmurs that had begun in all corners. ‘You believe you are safe from the fate that befell your northern comrades.’