‘He regrets his decision making you regent in his absence, thinks you do not have the strength that is required in these difficult times.’ Lykos reached inside his weather-stained cloak and pulled out a crumpled scroll. ‘He proposes that I take over the regency, for the time being.’
She snatched the scroll and tore it open. It was as Lykos said, written in her son’s hand. This cannot be. Something is wrong; he would not do this. She looked over the scroll at Lykos. He was studying her intently.
She ripped up the scroll and tossed its pieces to the ground.
‘I will never allow you to rule Tenebral,’ she said.
Lykos sighed, long and deep. ‘I was afraid you would say that.’
He burst explosively from his chair, launching across the table, and Fidele instinctively flinched backwards. She was not his target, though.
Orcus had his sword drawn by the time Lykos reached him, but Lykos was inside his guard, something in his hand. He punched hard upwards, under Orcus’ chin. Blood erupted from Orcus’ mouth. Lykos held him close, then lowered him to the ground, where he twitched a few times, then was still.
Fidele stood, opening her mouth to scream.
‘Don’t do that,’ Lykos said, turning to face her. He reached into his cloak and pulled something out, something small. ‘Don’t make a sound,’ he said.
Fidele felt a hand clamp around her throat, fingers squeezing. She tried to scream but nothing came out. She reached to her throat to pull away the choking grip, but nothing was there, only her own flesh.
‘Amazing,’ Lykos said, holding the thing in his hand up. It looked like a lump of clay, a few hairs sticking from it. ‘Come back here.’
She felt her feet moving, tried to stop them, but could not, just walked, haltingly at first, back towards Lykos. She saw blood pooling behind him, almost black, spreading like spilt ink.
‘Stop.’
She stopped.
‘Lift your right hand.’
She lifted it.
Lykos laughed. ‘This is wonderful. Calidus, I owe you greatly.’ His brow furrowed in thought. ‘Tell me that we shall rule Tenebral together. And be polite.’
Never. I will see you dead . . .
‘We shall govern Tenebral together, my lord.’ She could not believe the words were her own, the voice her own. She formed a sentence in her mind, mostly curses. ‘Your will shall guide me.’ She wailed inside.
What? She stared at the lump that Lykos held in his hand. This close she could see that the hairs in it were black. Lines were scrawled across the clay. Runes?
‘Yes,’ he said, following her eyes. ‘It is a lock of your hair.’ He looked behind him, at Orcus sprawled on the stone floor. ‘We’ll arrange for my men to clean this up; don’t want rumours spreading through your eagle-guard. I shall leave shortly and send Deinon and a few others up here. Later today you shall announce that I am forgiven all previous misunderstandings and that the people of Tenebral are about to enter a new age of kinship with the Vin Thalun.’
‘I shall do as you say, my lord.’
He grinned, then looked at her, up and down.
‘Perhaps we should seal this new beginning while we are alone.’ He reached out, ran a hand up her thigh, over her hip and onto her waist.
Get off. Don’t touch me. She spasmed inside, willed her limbs to move, to kick, to shove, her voice to cry out. Nothing happened.
‘Lie back on the table,’ he commanded.
In her mind she screamed.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE
CORBAN
‘What are you doing here?’ Corban said to the trader.
‘Why are you following us?’ Coralen asked as she moved from behind a boulder.
‘Yes, why are you following us?’ Gar strode close to him. Ventos’ hound growled. Storm jumped from the rock shelf; her hackles were raised and she matched snarl for snarl.
This could turn bloody. ‘Ventos, tell your hound; Storm will not tolerate a challenge from him.’
‘Talar, down,’ Ventos snapped. The hound crouched lower and stopped growling.
‘Easy, everyone,’ Ventos said. ‘I am no danger to you.’
‘An explanation, please,’ Gwenith said.
‘I wish to get out of Domhain, and I saw you all leave, saw you heading towards the mountains.’ He shrugged.
‘Why not just use the giants’ road? And what about your goods, your wain at Dun Taras?’ Corban asked.
‘You don’t know, do you? Domhain’s warband has been routed; it is fleeing to Dun Taras. Rhin controls the giants’ road, and that’s the only way in or out of Domhain that a wain can travel.’ He shrugged, a guilty expression crossing his face. ‘I’m cutting my losses. If I get out of Domhain with my life I’ll count myself lucky. I just want to get away, and I thought, you know, safety in numbers.’
‘Rath’s warband is routed?’ Coralen gasped. ‘That’s not possible.’
‘That’s what I thought,’ Ventos said. ‘But it happened. It wasn’t the warband from Cambren that turned it. It was the warriors of Tenebral. They made a wall of shields, just walked up the giants’ road and killed every man that threw himself against their shields.’ He shook his head, passing a hand across his brow. ‘It was terrible to see.’