and treat me with respect, as one head of state to another, with the grace and nobility worthy of man destined to be King of his peoples.’ Oliver pursed his lips at this, and Úlfnaor knowingly held his eyes. ‘And so,’ he continued, ‘I allow my Second again to introduce me, knowing that, this time, there will be no more mistake.’
Sólmundr once again clucked his horse forward. He once again made his introductions, and the Merron once again waited. This time, Oliver bowed and the lieutenant smoothly followed his lead.
‘Lord Úlfnaor,’ said Oliver, still bent at the waist. ‘Forgive me. We had been told to expect a simple messenger, not a diplomatic representative. I fear we are ill-prepared. Had the Royal Prince understood . . .’
‘It not matter. I forgive. We go on.’
Oliver straightened. ‘Unfortunately, his Royal Highness is very busy. He begs that you forgive him this, asks that you hand over the papers and says that he will speak with you as soon as time allows.’
Wynter briefly closed her eyes and shook her head. So, that was how it was to be. After all he had done to get here, after everything he had been forced to sacrifice, it was quite clear that Úlfnaor was never destined to get his audience. He would never have the chance to negotiate on behalf of his people. He was to be a messenger in all but name, and Shirken would laugh behind her sleeve to the very end.
There was a long, empty silence, during which time Úlfnaor sat heavy in his saddle, and Sól stared blindly out at the trees.
‘I will come to royal tent,’ said Úlfnaor at last. ‘I will hand papers myself, as is my duty. Then you will show my party to our quarters and I will wait the Prince’s pleasure.’
Oliver blinked in surprise. He had been expecting wounded pride perhaps; had been anticipating an argument. He went to speak, seemed to think better of it, nodded and gestured that the Merron should dismount and follow him up the hill.
Christopher fell into place at Wynter’s side and they strode forward to flank Razi as the party trudged through the last of the daylight to Alberon’s tent. At the royal quarters, Úlfnaor and Sól went forward with the papers. The rest of the Merron closed ranks around Razi, shielding him from sight and obscuring Wynter’s view of the tent. She heard Oliver’s voice as he announced the Merron lords.
‘Your Royal Highness, I present Lord Úlfnaor, Aoire of the Merron people, emissary from her Royal Highness Princess Marguerite of the Northlands.’
This was greeted with silence, during which Wynter imagined Alberon stepping into the sunlight. Úlfnaor and Sól kneeling in the dust. Úlfnaor holding out the package of letters. She imagined Alberon reaching forward and taking it. She tried to picture him as something more than the boy she’d known. In her mind, she tried to form him into a man. But nothing came to her, nothing but a clear image of him as she had last seen him, a ten-year-old boy standing in a doorway, the bright sun in his hair, his hand raised in farewell – her final sight of him as she had ridden away from the palace. She waited for his voice, wondering if she’d know it. He did not speak.
Instead Oliver said, ‘His Highness thanks you.’
At Wynter’s side, Razi held his breath, waiting. She resisted the urge to take his hand. The wall of cloaked and masked Merron was blocking their view, and Wynter felt closed in by them. She could not breathe. She longed to push them all aside and pull the scarf from her face. She longed to shout, Albi! It’s us! It’s Wyn and Razi! We are here! She glanced at Christopher, standing to Razi’s left. His hands were clenched.
Úlfnaor’s voice rang out suddenly, his tone urgent, as though Alberon had begun to turn and the Merron leader wished to prevent him leaving. ‘Your Royal Highness! I have other package for you, it also my duty to deliver into your hands.’
There was a pause, as if the Prince was taking his time turning back. A surprisingly deep voice said, ‘Another package?’
Razi took off his hat and scarf. He let the Merron cloak drop from his shoulders. He lifted his head. The Merron parted ranks, and the brothers were finally revealed to each other.
Alberon stood with his hand shading his eyes, puzzled. It took him a moment to comprehend; then he stepped forward, his