“You have to go,” Ranadar said. “You can’t fight, and so you’re just another mouth to feed.”

“I can bind wounds, Your Highness.” Hwilli felt her voice shaking in her throat, but she forced herself to speak. “I can tend all manner of ills—”

“We have other healers, ones who can draw a bow as well as bind wounds. You swore a vow to your master, didn’t you? I pity you, but I’ll order you all the same. Go! Your prince commands you. Go with your master, child!”

Hwilli stretched out her arms to Rhodorix, who refused to look at her.

“You heard him,” he said. “Follow his orders.”

He wants me to go, she thought. He doesn’t want me here. The thought was a spear of ice, stabbing her to the heart. Her defeat tasted like a death, a cold emptiness that chilled her mind and her soul. She got to her feet, gave Rhodorix’s sullen back one last glance, and let Jantalaber lead her away.

By the gates the other refugees had drawn up in reasonable order with a squad of archers. At the rear, behind the servants and handcarts, Gerontos sat on his chestnut warhorse.

“Hwilli!” he called out to her. “Come here! You can ride behind me.”

Understanding broke through Hwilli’s grief. Rhodorix had handed her over to his brother, just as if she were a horse he no longer wanted to ride. For a moment the courtyard seemed to move under her feet. Master Jantalaber caught her by the shoulder and steadied her.

“Go ride with him,” he said. “The child you’re carrying could suffer, if you’re forced to walk the entire way.”

For the sake of Rhodorix’s child, Hwilli went to Gerontos. He dismounted, helped her climb up behind the saddle then mounted again. As they rode off, she glanced back to see Rhodorix still kneeling before the prince. Very well, she thought. I’ll do as you say, but I’ll always be faithful to you in my heart and soul.

With a sigh that was more a gasp of surrender, she slipped her arms around Gerontos’ waist to steady herself as the column began to move. He turned his head to glance her way. Despite the awkward angle, she caught a glimpse of a well-pleased smile.

Rhodorix kept silent by iron self-control as Hwilli and Gerontos rode off to catch up with the refugees, most of whom had already filed through the gates. He listened to the sound of the chains grinding through the winches as the gates closed with a rumble like thunder. Under the cover of that sound he allowed himself one long keen. Tears ran down his face; he wiped them roughly away on the back of his hand. The prince, with his hands on his hips, watched him.

“So!” Ranadar said. “You did love that woman. Did you want her to stay?”