The sorrow left her eyes, pushed out, no doubt, by the enraged irritation that now filled them. ‘Falcio val Mond, since when has it been your business to keep secrets from me?’
I didn’t have an answer for that, so I busied myself with eating the biscuits at a pace that would have embarrassed even Brasti. Saints, how long has it been since I last ate?
‘I was proud of you, you know,’ Aline said.
‘Proud?’ Crumbs escaped my lips in an embarrassing spray down the front of my shirt.
She smiled, my awkwardness somehow buying me a measure of forgiveness. ‘Yes, you oaf, proud. When I saw Filian standing there with you, when I realised what you must have done . . . the choice you’d faced . . . I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.’
I poured myself a goblet of water from the flagon on the table. ‘It turned out to be rather a stupid choice in the end. All I did was buy us a thousand more problems.’
Aline grabbed my hand. ‘No, Falcio, that’s not what you did. You saved my father’s son – and more than that, you proved everyone wrong, once and for all. You showed the nobles and the Dukes and everyone else that the Greatcoats uphold the laws, no matter the cost to themselves.’
‘Sure, except for the guy who’s planning on invading Orison and Hervor and who just happens to have . . . what was it again? Oh yes, the vast majority of the Greatcoats on his side.’
‘And yet with all that, still the First Cantor found the strength to do what was right rather than what was easy.’
I found the admiration in her gaze profoundly uncomfortable. ‘See, when you say it like that, I don’t sound nearly as stupid as I feel.’
She grinned. ‘Oh, don’t worry; you’ve more than made up for it with all your nonsense these past two weeks. Honestly, Falcio, you really should stick to deciding which farmer gets which part of the cow from now on and stay out of the business of deciding who should rule the country.’
She put on a good show, but I’d known her far too long to believe this act. Aline was as afraid as anyone would be in her position. Unlike me, she was refusing to let it rule her.
‘You’ve spoken to him?’ I asked, trying to change the subject. ‘Filian, I mean?’
She nodded.
‘What do you think of him?’
‘I . . . I’m not sure. We’ve met several times now. He’s clever, and certainly knowledgeable. He might make a good King.’
‘Or he might be a monster.’
‘I don’t know. It’s true he’s difficult to read; what is certain is that he loves my – our – father, even though he never met him.’ Aline took my hand again. ‘That’s the one hope we have, if things turn against us: Filian’s desire to be connected to King Paelis. You could guide him in that, Falcio. Yours could be the voice that keeps him to the path of my father’s ideals, rather than Duchess Patriana’s cold logic.’
I shook my head. ‘Sweetheart, if he becomes King I don’t plan on being within a thousand miles of this place ever again.’
‘You must,’ she insisted. ‘Falcio, I’m telling you, the one hope we have is his admiration for you. He looks up to you, just as my father must have done. That’s how we protect the country, Falcio, that’s how—’
A knock at the door stopped her mid-sentence, and I wondered if her raised voice had made Antrim worry about her, but when he opened the door he was holding a note in his hand. ‘We have a problem,’ he announced. ‘A large contingent of soldiers has just arrived at our gates. They’re carrying Tristian banners.’
‘Isn’t that a good thing?’ I asked. ‘New conscripts arriving – so maybe we finally have some decent troops to work with.’
‘Oh, they’re well-trained soldiers, that much is certain,’ Antrim agreed. ‘The problem is more their commander.’
‘Who is it?’ Aline asked.
‘Trin, my lady.’ He turned to me and abandoning any pretence at decorum, added, ‘Apparently that prick Morn couldn’t even kill her properly.’
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
The Triumphant Return
The gleam of early morning sunlight on the shields and armour of the arriving troops was almost blinding. They held their banners high, sable for Orison and silver for Hervor, catching the breeze and contributing to a tableau so magnificent that I couldn’t help but wonder if she hadn’t timed her arrival just for that effect. Had anyone but her been at the head of this army, I would have felt a surge of relief so overwhelming I’d have been tempted to drop to my knees and thank the Gods dead and alive for their generosity. As it happened, I was spared the need for any display of piety.
‘My, my,’ Trin said, gazing at the ruins of the castle. ‘You’ve really let the old place go, haven’t you, Falcio?’
I ignored the jibe; my mind was occupied with figuring out how she’d got here – we’d not been aware of her presence in the country, which meant Trin had brought her troops down through Domaris, which meant Hadiermo had arranged for safe passage. The second and more pressing issue was the young man who burst from the castle doors and ran past me to embrace her, shouting, ‘Tarindelle!’ He hugged her desperately.
It was the first time I’d heard her called that, but of course I understood why: ‘Trin’ was the name Patriana had given her for her role as Valiana’s maidservant, but it was hardly the name of a Duchess . . . or a future Queen. Tarindelle. Hells, it even sounded royal.
For her part, Trin was looking at me over Filian’s shoulder as the boy clung to her like a sailor hanging onto a mast in the midst of a storm. She mouthed ‘thank you’ to me, then she whispered something to Filian, who reluctantly let go of her and went back inside the castle.
‘You look remarkably alive for someone who sacrificed herself to the barbarians in the snow,’ I said. ‘And you made remarkably good time getting back.’
‘I did tell you I was a survivor, Falcio.’ She looked back at her soldiers, standing smartly at attention, waiting for orders. I guessed there must be two thousand of them, almost twice as many as the rest of the country had sent us. ‘The soldiers of Hervor and Orison have always been more loyal than those in the south,’ she said, noting the pathetic conscripts gazing out from their poorly constructed tents. ‘Perhaps because we treat them better.’
‘Let’s get back to how you evaded Morn and his warriors,’ I said.
‘Ah, that. Well, I’d like to say it was some vastly clever ruse on my part, but in fact I got lucky: a passing blizzard took pity on me. It hid my tracks and I took the opportunity to bury myself in the snow until my pursuers had passed by.’
‘You buried yourself?’