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  He shook her. ‘You knew, didn’t you?’ he demanded, hoarse. ‘How long have you known it was my sister we were hunting?’

  DOM

  Eleventh moon, seventeenth year of the reign of King Rastoth

  Waypoint three, Wolf Lands, Rilporian border

  Men and women trickled into the glade in the birch forest, the third of their many assembly points in the event of attack. Healer Feltith was already there, busy with those who’d arrived before Dom and the girl. Wolves huddled in tents, under shelters and around tiny fires.

  Dom managed a smile when he saw Ash approaching. ‘Thank the gods you saw them up at the Final Falls. That advance warning saved—’

  ‘Where the fuck is she?’ Ash snarled, grabbing Dom’s shoulder and hurling him out of the way of the tent. He pushed through the flap and grabbed the girl by the hair, dragging her into the night. ‘Who are you?’ he roared into her face. ‘What are you?’

  ‘Ash, what the fuck are you doing? What—’ Dom started; then he noticed the glow up in the foothills. They were burning the village.

  Ash grabbed his arm with his other hand and hauled them both towards a fire. Lim sat with Sarilla, her hand swaddled in a piece of shirt, face grey. Ash shoved them to a halt. ‘They’re fucking dead, Dom. Fucking scores of us, slaughtered. Because of her. I told you she was trouble, I told you we should’ve killed her. Did you even find out like Lim asked you to?’ he added as Dom fought a riot of nausea. ‘Who she is, why they want her? What have you learnt?’

  ‘I haven’t – It wasn’t …’ Dom started, but there was nothing to say. Ash’s eyes burnt with the need to hurt and Dom swayed back from the violence. The girl was shaking at his side and Sarilla was staring at her with black hatred.

  ‘Enough.’ Lim stepped forward, limping badly but putting himself between the two men.

  ‘Enough?’ Ash gasped. ‘Tansy’s dead, so’s Ross. Dalli nearly got herself raped and your wife’s crippled.’ He glared past Lim at Dom, pointing at Sarilla. ‘She’ll never use a bow again; fucking Raider cut off three of her fingers.’ Ash spat. ‘Because of you. Because of her.’

  ‘You think I don’t know that?’ Lim snarled, and Ash subsided a little. Lim rounded on the girl. ‘What did you do?’ he asked. ‘Enough of your silence. My people died for you this night. More will die if we don’t know why they seek you.’

  She whimpered, shook her head.

  ‘Tell me,’ Lim bellowed in her face and Dom flinched, reaching for him; Lim shook him off, not even glancing his way.

  ‘I killed Liris,’ she sobbed, hands up in a gesture of futile defence. ‘I killed Liris, I’m sorry, I killed him.’

  The clearing descended into stunned silence, and even Feltith paused in the act of bandaging Sarilla’s hand to look at her.

  Dom was staring at her; they were all staring at her. ‘You killed the King of the Mireces and didn’t think to tell us?’ he managed, but she was too scared, crying too hard, to hear him.

  Ash moved first, shoved a sack and a folded tent into Dom’s slack arms. ‘You could have told us that, not her. You could have known days ago. But you didn’t and this’ – he waved his arm – ‘this is on you. So get the fuck out of here, Calestar,’ he hissed, ‘and take your Mireces whore with you.’

  Dom looked from Lim to Sarilla to Ash, his mind a whirl of incomprehension, shame and simmering anger. ‘Sarilla, I—’

  ‘Get her away from me before I slit the little cunt’s throat,’ Sarilla growled and Lim helped him on his way with a shove hard enough that he stumbled. He heard the girl squeal and looked over in time to see Ash grab her throat and spit in her face, before pushing her towards him.

  ‘Lim,’ Dom tried, but his adopted brother wouldn’t meet his eyes.

  ‘Go to the temple and talk to Mother. You could use her wisdom.’ And they closed in around the wounded, their backs an impenetrable wall and Dom on the wrong side. Even Cam, the man who’d raised him like a son, the man who’d never once pushed him to use his gift despite what it might tell them, couldn’t meet his eyes. They blamed him, every one of them.

  Dom’s breath hitched in his throat and he backed away, unable to turn from the sight of them ranged against him. They were his people that had been killed, his friends and neighbours. Theirs were the bodies littering the burning village he called home. But they were right, weren’t they? This was on him. He could’ve stopped it if only he’d pushed her. If only he’d used his gift, regardless of the cost.

  He didn’t look away until he was inside the first line of trees, and then only because the girl touched his shoulder. He felt a tingle of understanding, a flicker from the knowing, and pushed it away. It was too late now. He didn’t care if she was important, didn’t care that such a momentary touch could ignite his gift. There wasn’t anything worth learning from her now and no one to tell it to even if he did.

  Too late for Sarilla, for the other wounded. Too fucking late for the dead.

  ‘Go where you like, I won’t stop you. I’ve lost family because of you, friends, lovers. Their deaths are my shame, do you understand?’ Dom demanded, turning on her. He dropped the tent, grabbed her shoulders and shook, and then backhanded her so she fell into the mud. ‘Maybe Ash is right. Maybe you are a fucking spy. You couldn’t have done more damage if you’d fucking planned it.’

  She rolled on to her back and wiped blood from her mouth and nose. ‘You expect me to trust you, to tell you everything I know when I’m as much a prisoner here as I ever was in Eagle Height?’ She stood up, shaky but tall. ‘I spent nine years slaving for the Mireces. Nine years you will never begin to understand. And for nine years I listened to their stories about the Wolves. How could I possibly trust you? All I know is what they told me.’

  Dom laughed, a wheezing giggle tinged with madness. ‘What the fuck does it matter if you trust us? My people are dead because I didn’t want to scare you. Because I trusted that if you had something to tell us about the Mireces you would, that you had some touch of being Rilporian left inside. That if you’d killed their fucking king you’d have let us know.’ He bit off any more words. What was the point? Slumping, he picked up the tent again. ‘Just go. Go on, go.’

  ‘Go where?’

  ‘Fuck do I care? To hell, maybe, to the Afterworld. You deserve it.’ He hauled the tent on to his back and began walking southeast. She shifted from foot to foot, uncertain. Then she followed.

  MACE

  Eleventh moon, seventeenth year of the reign of King Rastoth

  West Rank headquarters, Cattle Lands, Rilporian border

  Mace Koridam, general of the West Rank, rested back in his chair and stretched his shoulders when Captain Tara Carter entered. ‘Report?’

  Tara saluted and stood at parade rest in front of his desk. ‘There’s a lot of movement up there. Some sort of raiding or tracking party, it looked like. Found what was left of some dead Raiders, gear and weapons mostly. Animals had been at the bodies, but most had Wolf arrows in them. We got within five miles of the Sky Path, but the number of Mireces patrols forced us back.’

  Mace frowned and crossed his arms. ‘Your orders were explicit, Captain.’

  Tara met his gaze steadily. ‘Yes, sir. I’m aware I went beyond my remit, but there was too much activity, so I made the call. Sir.’

  ‘If this is about you proving yourself, Carter, I can assure you that you have singularly failed to impress me.’

  ‘It isn’t, sir. Word in the mountains is that Liris is dead, killed in his own bedchamber.’

  Mace paused and eyed her. ‘You’re sure?’ he asked, though Tara was already nodding. ‘By the gods, this changes everything.’ With Liris dead, they could have an opportunity to force a battle and break the Mireces once and for all, ending the constant border threat.

  ‘My opposite number among the Wolves filled me in on that particular piece of intel,’ Carter said as there was a knock at the door. It opened and she gestured. ‘Dalli Shortspear. Turns out we weren’t the onl
y ones sneaking around the Sky Path.’

  Dalli gave Carter and Mace a strained smile and Mace winced. ‘Gods, woman, that’s the most impressive black eye I’ve seen in a long while.’

  Dalli fingered the bruising. ‘Mireces spear butt, right in the eye. I will confess to a momentary confusion in the aftermath.’

  Mace whistled. ‘I’d confess to being unconscious if it was me. But you’re otherwise well?’

  Dalli gave a half-shrug, her usual energy missing. ‘As well as can be expected. Mireces war party on the hunt for an escaped slave. She made it down to us and they followed her, attacked the village. Burnt the village. We lost nearly seventy.’ She tapped her fingertips to her heart, commemorating the dead, and Mace and Tara copied her. ‘We’d had a few hours’ advance warning, but there were too few of us nearby to form an effective defence. We fought a holding action, then had to run.’

  ‘My sympathies, Dalli, to you and yours. Any help you need rebuilding, please do ask. I’ll increase our patrols in the meantime, give you a chance to recover.’

  ‘Thank you, General, we’d appreciate that. We’re stretched thin. For now we’ve sent the girl to Watchtown with Dom, to keep her safe and … keep her away from the other Wolves. There’s some bad feeling about what happened. The Mireces wouldn’t have attacked if she wasn’t there, and if she’d told us beforehand that she’d murdered Liris – well, let’s just say we wouldn’t have sent most of our warriors to winter in the smaller settlements.’

  ‘She killed him?’ Mace asked, incredulous. ‘A slave?’

  Dalli touched her face again. ‘That she did, General. Or that’s what she told us anyway, and we believe her.’ She rested her hip against his desk and Mace was suddenly aware of her exhaustion. She was hurt and hurting, grieving, but she’d come to warn them anyway. She puts half my men to shame.

  ‘At least that fat old bastard Liris is dead,’ Dalli said. ‘Even if too many of ours are as well.’

  Mace stalked to the window and back again. ‘You say there’s bad feeling around the slave? We’d be happy to host her here,’ he said, trying not to sound too eager. Her knowledge of Eagle Height must be extensive. This could be the turning of the tide. But why did she have to make her way to the Wolves? I could do so much with that knowledge, so much.

  ‘She and Dom will stay at the temple. With luck there won’t be trouble, but we’ll bear it in mind.’

  ‘Of course. If her presence in Watchtown becomes complicated, let me know and we’ll send someone to fetch her. In the meantime, if you learn anything from her, please do share it with us.’ He paused and Dalli dipped her head. ‘Do we know who the new Mireces king is yet? Or if there even is one?’

  Tara sighed. ‘That we don’t know. I can take a patrol—’

  Mace held up a finger. ‘You’ve done enough, Carter. Just let me have your full report by this evening.’ She opened her mouth to protest. ‘I’ve told you before, being a reckless idiot is not going to get you promoted any faster. If anything, it’ll make me more inclined to demote you. You are not the only captain with a Hundred in the West Forts. I appreciate your zeal, but I have other capable officers who can take out patrols. And I’m not sure your men would appreciate another run out so soon. Dismissed,’ he added when Carter looked like protesting anyway.

  She saluted and stalked to the door, closing it very firmly behind her. Mace suppressed a smile; Carter was going to be an outstanding general one day, if she managed to stay alive that long. And if she could actually bloody listen to orders.

  ‘She’s a good one,’ Dalli said, breaking into his thoughts. ‘You’re lucky to have her.’

  ‘I know, I just wish she didn’t think she had to prove herself all the time.’

  Dalli snorted. ‘She’s the only woman in the Rank, and she’s an officer. Of course she has to prove herself all the time. She’s fighting the instincts of five thousand soldiers.’ Dalli poked at the bruise again. ‘Your men aren’t as enlightened as ours; most of them don’t believe Tara should be wearing trousers, let alone wielding a sword. She’d probably be better off joining the Wolves.’

  ‘Stop trying to steal my best officer, Dalli,’ Mace said with a mock frown. ‘You can’t have her. Listen,’ he said, moving back to the desk, ‘how bad is the feeling about this woman?’

  Dalli’s brows drew together. ‘Bad enough. Seventy is too many for a single skirmish on our own ground. Those four incursions we repelled over the summer cost us less than a hundred, plus your losses of course. To lose so many now, this late in the season …’ She closed her eyes. ‘It’s been a hard year for us.’

  ‘Then maybe she should stay at the forts,’ Mace said. He squeezed her shoulder and she opened her eyes again. ‘Think about it.’

  ‘I’ve got to visit a few settlements in the foothills, tell them what’s happened, then I’ll be going to Watchtown. I’ll see what the atmosphere’s like. If necessary, I’ll bring her here.’ She stood up from his desk. ‘But for now, General, with your permission I’ll raid your kitchens and then find somewhere to get my head down for a few hours. Long way still to go.’

  ‘Of course. Dancer’s grace upon you.’

  She gave him a crooked smile. ‘And you, General.’

  When Dalli had left, Mace wandered back to the window and looked down on the fort, then up at the mountains clawing the air, white and angry against a white sky. Change was coming: he could feel it. Maybe a king-killing slave from Eagle Height could help ensure that change was to their advantage.

  CRYS

  Eleventh moon, seventeenth year of the reign of King Rastoth

  The palace, Rilporin, Wheat Lands

  A couple of easy years, they said. A rest from the threat of border patrols, they said. Crys stood in the audience chamber and tried to keep his eyes open. He’d been here a few weeks and was bored out of his mind. Most of his wages had gone on drinking and gambling and he’d been threatened with a flogging already for being late on duty. That was Rivil’s fault, though; the prince could drink like a horse. Though it wasn’t exactly the done thing to blame your superiors for your own tardiness.

  His Hundred were in charge of the king’s honour guard this week, and he’d thought that’d liven things up. So far he’d stood and listened to the king mumble for four days. He couldn’t make out most of it, and what he could didn’t make much sense. And the court? Crys had never seen such a bunch of expensively clothed arse-lickers in all his life.

  Only Rivil’s endless supply of court gossip had kept him going, and he’d discovered which of the twittering court ladies was not blind to a dashing young officer offering a supportive hand during a turn in the gardens.

  He’d spent the morning amusing himself by examining their outfits, grateful for the fashion for low-cut necklines. He’d be asleep if there wasn’t an army of well-endowed bosoms parading in front of his face.

  The doors opened and the princes entered together. Crys snapped to attention, thumping his pike on to the marble, the sudden movement sending a rush of blood to his numb feet. Rivil winked as he walked past and Crys fought to remain stoic as the prince flicked him the finger for good measure.

  Galtas followed a few paces behind, as always. The bastard’s single eye blazed a challenge at him. Crys really was going to have to give the little prick a beating at some point. He was bigger, but Crys would bet he was faster – he’d just stay on the side without the eye.

  The princes bowed to the king and Rastoth beamed at them. ‘My boys,’ he boomed cheerfully, ‘my good boys. You are well?’

  ‘Very well, your majesty,’ Prince Janis said with another bow, ‘and how is your health?’

  ‘Excellent,’ Rastoth said, though Crys noted that Rivil glanced to the physician for confirmation. Hallos inclined his head. Janis stepped forward and offered Rastoth his arm as he rose, and the three of them made their way about the throne room, courtiers simpering and smiling like a flock of birds around them.

  Crys followed, his knee stiff from
standing still for hours.

  Rivil dropped back to walk at Crys’s side. ‘Bit of a limp there,’ he whispered.

  Crys glanced at Janis, then back to Rivil. ‘It’s the size of my cock,’ he whispered, ‘drags me to the right. What’s a man to do?’

  Rivil burst out laughing and Crys grinned. Janis looked back and frowned. ‘I’m not sure our wise and devoted heir approves of our friendship,’ Rivil joked, giving Janis a little wave.

  ‘He’s just fuming because the king’s stopped next to Lord Hardoc. Or is it Lord Haddock? His breath smells like a week-dead fish, anyway.’

  Crys kept a wary eye on Commander Koridam as Rivil sniggered. ‘His daughter, though,’ the prince said and whistled. ‘Have you seen the tits on her? Face like a cow’s, but with tits like that I’d – Commander, what a pleasure.’

  ‘Your Highness, if you are finished with my captain, may I have a word with him?’ Durdil asked.

  Gods, what now? Crys saluted, bowed to Rivil, and gestured to Weaverson to take his place. He followed Durdil out of the audience chamber and down the long corridors to the commander’s study. Whatever it is, it can’t be more boring than guard duty.

  Durdil sat at his desk and stared at Crys. He cleared his throat. ‘Captain Tailorson, Prince Rivil has requested you to lead his honour guard when he and Prince Janis travel west. They’re going to visit the West Rank before winter sets in.’ Durdil’s eyes were narrow with calculation, so Crys kept his face neutral, as though this was only to be expected. ‘I understand you’ve become quite the prince’s boon companion lately.’

  Crys’s elation died rapidly. ‘I – It is difficult to refuse a prince, sir, when he gives an order.’