“But things will be different this time!” He did not say it only to her. He promised it to himself. He shouted it to everyone in that triumphant gathering at the foot of the Tower of Chains. “We have a chance now! For a fresh start. For a new Union.” One of Forest’s men was holding an old battle flag, and Orso felt a surge of pride as the breeze took it and the blazing sun gleamed in the Agriont once again. “A chance… to do things right.”

He looked across those eager faces. Some of them were even starting to smile. “No more riots,” he called, “no more trials, no more executions. No vengeance and no settling of scores. No Court of the People!” He caught Savine’s eye, her chin up, her eyes shining. If she believed in him, he knew it could be done. “But there can be no more Closed Council, either. No corruption and injustice. No dead grip of Valint and Balk around the throat of the nation. This time… I mean to govern for the many, not

the few. To be a king for everyone.”

“You really think you can do all that?” asked Vick, and it seemed, behind her customary mask of scorn, she couldn’t entirely hide a glimpse of hope.

At that moment, Orso felt as if he could do anything. “I can try. We can try. Together. I owe you all my thanks. You especially, Vick.” He seized her scabbed hand and pressed it to his lips. “You gambled everything. You didn’t have to.”

“Seems I’ve a sentimental streak of loyalty,” she grunted, licking her bloody top lip and awkwardly working her hand free.

“I am heartily glad of it.” He clapped Corporal Tunny on the shoulder, dragged Forest into a crushing hug. “Where would I have been without you?”

“Just doing my duty,” growled Forest, his cheeks colouring above his overgrown beard.

Orso turned to the Young Lion—pale, gaunt and ungainly on his false leg, blond hair darkened with sweat and that sickly smile still on his face. For various reasons, several of them good ones, Orso had grown to dislike the ex-Lord Governor of Angland quite intensely. But his father once said you can measure a man by how he treats those he dislikes. He had said he would be a king for everyone, and he meant it. The lowest as well as the highest, his enemies as well as his friends. And Brock had come through for him today. There was no denying that.

“I owe you, too, Lord Brock,” said Orso, since it seemed they were all going back to their old titles. “We have had our differences. We could hardly have had bigger ones. But if men like us can march into the future together, there is hope for anyone.” He offered his hand. “There is hope for everyone.”

Brock winced down at Orso’s open palm, taking a deep breath. As if composing himself for some distasteful task. “Not everyone,” he said, then produced a dagger from behind his back and stabbed Forest in the chest.