poured him some water. ‘I shall try to live up to your Highness’s example,’ he said.
Alberon sighed. ‘Do not get surly now. I do not mean to be short with you. It simply galls me that you would turn your nose up at the same stuff as sustains my men. You are among warriors now, Razi. You must learn to win them over.’
‘Razi is no court fop, Alberon. Do not be so—’ Once again Razi placed his hand on Wynter’s and squeezed gently to silence her. ‘How do you mean to strengthen our father’s kingdom, Albi?’
Alberon grinned, his face transformed with sudden delight. ‘Ah, now we get to it!’ he said, shoving back his plate and leaping to his feet. ‘Finish your meal,’ he called, heading for the door. ‘Let Anthony clear the table.’
The tinder in the brazier caught flame and Anthony sat back as the fire roared abruptly to life. At the door to his tent, Alberon paused and looked over at Wynter, his face illuminated in the blaze, his eyes shining with grave delight. ‘I have a lovely surprise for you, Wyn,’ he said gently. ‘You will be so happy.’ He ducked inside and disappeared from view.
Wynter glared after him, angry at his unfathomable attitude towards his brother and thrown by his unpredictable changes of mood. Razi kept his hand on hers, his eyes on the dark rectangle of the door.
‘My Lord?’ Anthony hovered at Razi’s elbow, waiting for his dishes. Razi did not seem to hear him, and Anthony glanced at Wynter. She smiled tightly, ate the few mouthfuls of bread and meat on her plate and nodded for him to clear her place.
‘Razi,’ she murmured. ‘Eat your meal. Let the child finish his work.’
Razi mechanically complied, and the young servant pottered off with the dishes, leaving the pitchers and beakers behind. Wynter shrugged her cloak up around her neck and watched as his little figure disappeared into the dusk.
She waited until he was well out of earshot, then murmured tightly, ‘Alberon has no right to speak to you that way.’
‘He has spent years at war,’ said Razi, his lips barely moving. ‘He does not think that I can understand.’
‘I cannot tolerate it. If he persists—’
‘Hush now, Wyn.’
Razi was intensely focused on the door to Alberon’s tent. Wynter turned her attention there too, tilting her head to catch any noise from within. There was nothing but silence. They waited. The fire popped and crackled as it took hold of the bigger logs, and Wynter found herself glad of the extra heat. The thin mountain air had grown rapidly colder with the loss of the sun.
Soon the weather will turn, she thought, and there will be no hope of feeding even this small number of men. It is perfectly obvious that his supplies are already starting to fall low. Alberon must surely know that his time is running short.
If Alberon was aware of this – and how could he not be – it certainly didn’t show in his demeanour. He seemed nothing but doggedly determined to succeed. Glancing at Razi’s intent face, it occurred to Wynter that, despite Alberon’s tiresome needling of his half-brother, much of his confidence was rooted in Razi’s ability to sell his plan to their father.
She leaned in, meaning to make this point to Razi, but a low muttering from within the tent silenced her. Alberon’s voice came gentle and low through the canvas, and Wynter met Razi’s eye as they heard him say, ‘Come now, do not be ill-humoured. It is only outside, and I promise . . . you will be pleased.’
Slowly, Razi sat upright, alarm clear in his face. There was someone else in there! Wynter remembered Alberon’s sleeping area – half-obscured by heavy netting, the neat bedding dressed in shadow – and she turned in her seat, her eyes wide. Alberon came to the door of his tent, his face glowing with that mischievous delight so familiar from their youth. Under his left arm, he had Marguerite’s folder and two rolls of bulky parchment; in his right arm, a bundle of cloth.
‘Clear the damned table,’ he laughed, struggling with his poorly balanced scrolls. Razi jumped up, shoved the pitchers and beakers aside, and wiped the table clear of crumbs and grease. Alberon threw his papers carelessly on top. Then he gently hoisted the cloth bundle in both arms and, grinning, deposited it into Wynter’s lap.
The bundle moved and Wynter had to prevent herself from leaping to her feet in alarm