They stuck their small snouts in the air and approached Gaborn cautiously, growling, “What? Food?”

Gaborn glanced downriver, wondering at the scouts’ reaction. The man in splint mail could see the ferrin now, a dozen of them, sauntering around the foundations of the mill. Reason dictated that if Gaborn were near, the ferrin would have scattered.

After a moment’s hesitation, the scout in splint mail waved his broadsword toward both banks, while he shouted orders to his men. With the thundering of the waterwheel in his ears, Gaborn could not hear the orders. But presently, all six hunters hurried back uphill into the trees, angling south. They would search the woods, downstream.

When Gaborn felt sure they were gone, and that no prying eyes watched his direction, he carried Rowan uphill.

12

OFFERS

Chemoise Solette felt dazed. Watching her best friend, Iome, lose her glamour horrified Chemoise to the core of her soul.

When Raj Ahten finished with the Princess, he turned and gazed into Chemoise’s eyes. His nostrils flared as he judged her.

“You are a beautiful young creature,” Raj Ahten whispered. “Serve me.”

Chemoise could not hide the revulsion she felt at those words. Iome sill lay on the floor, dazed, barely conscious. Chemoise’s father still lay in the wagon down in the Dedicates’ Keep.

She said nothing in response. Raj Ahten smiled weakly.

Raj Ahten could take no endowment from a woman who hated him so intensely, and his Voice would not sway Chemoise. But he could take other things. He let his gaze drift down to her waist, as if she stood naked before him. “Put this one in the Dedicates’ Keep, for now. Let her care for her king and her princess.”

A chill of horror crept over Chemoise, and she dared hope that while she was in the keep, Raj Ahten would forget her.

So a guard took Chemoise’s elbow, pulled her down the narrow stairs out of the Great Hall and up the street to the Dedicates’ Keep, and thrust her through the portcullis. There he spoke a few words in Indhopalese to the guards who’d just been posted. The guards smiled with knowing grins.

Chemoise ran back to her father, who had been dragged into the Dedicates’ Hall, and now lay on a clean pallet.

The sight of him felt painful, for his wound ran deep and had festered so many years.

Chemoise’s father, Eremon Vottania Solette, was a Knight Equitable, sworn to bring down the Wolf Lord Raj Ahten. It was an oath he had not taken lightly seven years ago, the day he disavowed himself from Sylvarresta’s service to ride through the spring-green fields for the far kingdom of Aven.

It was an oath that had cost him everything. Chemoise remembered how tall he’d sat in the saddle, how proud she’d been. He’d been a great warrior, had seemed invincible to a nine-year-old girl.