Lorcan had turned and walked into the misty rain, and she had understood that she was all alone. She woke with the diplomatic folder clutched to her chest. She’d fallen asleep with it in her arms.
Christopher lay warm beside her, his strong arm looped around her waist. She slid carefully down under their covers until she could rest her chin against the top of his dark head, and she put her arm around him, pulling him closer.
‘Y’all right?’ he murmured, and she nodded. ‘Go asleep,’ he said. ‘They won’t come near the dog.’
She lay staring out into the impenetrable trees, holding Christopher close and listening to the Wolves as they whispered in the darkness beyond the light. She could think of nothing to say when she met the King. She could think of nothing to do. Across the fire, Razi’s dark eyes reflected the light as he too lay awake, thinking. Sólmundr sighed and rolled over, grousing at his blankets.
‘Lass,’ whispered Christopher, ‘go back to sleep.’
But she didn’t, and neither did he, and when dawn finally broke, it found them still lying there, staring pensively into the forest as the trees emerged slowly from the dark.
DAY ELEVEN: CHER FORD
Well, it is still here, she thought, scanning the small group of plain tents, the one smoking camp fire. But this is no royal party. There are too few men, no supply wagons, no military presence. Her heart sank at the growing likelihood that she’d made the wrong decision. She had wasted so much time.
Enough of that! she told herself. Christopher is right. What is done is done! We are but three days from the palace. If we hurry, we may arrive back on the same day as Alberon. Perhaps even hours ahead of him. It is possible that we still have some time.
She looked back at her companions. She had insisted that they take the old cart road through the forest, approaching the ruined ferry house from the east. This abandoned track was detailed on her map with the orange broken line of a disused trail and had been labelled ‘unpassable to cart and wagon’. Certainly it was horribly overgrown, filled with light saplings, waist-high in grass and snarled with trailing clots of bramble. But it was still relatively open ground when compared to the shadowy depths of the surrounding woods, and it made their approach easier and gave them a good view of the camp. More importantly, it allowed the camp to see them and reduced the all-too-likely danger of them being shot as spies.
Boro, bristling with hostility, tried to dash ahead through the high grass, but Sólmundr called him to heel. The warhound returned with great reluctance, barking and snarling into the trees and at the camp. Sólmundr snapped at him, obviously telling him to behave.
‘It’s difficult to tell from here,’ murmured Christopher, eyeing the small group of men who now stood shading their eyes and watching their approach. ‘But they don’t look to be soldiers. I don’t see no uniforms or pennants, nor any other fancy royal things.’
‘We were wrong,’ sighed Razi.
‘We will pass on through,’ said Wynter. ‘It will be easier to follow the track around and back onto the main road. Then we must fly like the wind to the palace. Jesu, I cannot believe that I have made such a grave—’ ‘Go no further, travellers! You must needs turn back here.’
Wynter jerked her horse to a dancing standstill as men emerged from the surrounding trees like shadows made flesh. They filled the path ahead and behind. Boro snarled and prowled, glaring up at Sól as if to say, I tried to tell you. The warrior sighed, lifted his hands from his sides, and told the hound, ‘Tarraing siar!
’ Though they were dressed in ordinary clothes, the surrounding men levelled their crossbows at the travellers with all the dispassionate intent of professional soldiers, and Wynter’s heart soared. She had never thought to see the day when she would be quite happy to have an arrow so coldly aimed for her heart. She uncovered her face and grinned at the puzzled man, whom she recognised as the lieutenant of the King’s guard. Squinting up from the bushes, he was obviously thrown by her apparent delight.
‘You must turn back now,’ he said slowly, convinced perhaps that she’d escaped from some bedlam and could not understand. ‘You cannot make use of this road.’
‘Thank you, lieutenant,’ she said. ‘I commend you for your vigilance. However, we come bearing papers for