the palace had been stripped of every possible reminder of Alberon. She hardly imagined that his room had been left intact. He must have seen something of this in her expression, because his eyes slipped from hers and he cleared his throat.
‘How is Razi?’ he asked quietly.
‘Oh, Albi, why do you not ask him yourself, instead of just telling him to comb his hair and shave his face as if nothing had happened. Why must you act the prince around him?’
‘Oh, please! He has done nothing but act the politician since he got here! He’d talk knots into a string, that man! I feel like I am wrestling a God-cursed eel every time he opens his mouth!’
Wynter huffed. ‘That is just Razi, Alberon; he has never been any different.’
‘He was never thus with me.’
You never before gave him reason to be, thought Wynter. But she did not articulate it. ‘He has only the best of intentions,’ she said. ‘You are his brother, Albi. He loves you dearly – you know this.’
‘I . . . I shall try harder to hold my patience.’ Alberon glanced at her. ‘He really approves this match of yours?’ At her warning look, he spread his hands in defeat. ‘I suppose between us both we can afford to support you,’ he sighed. ‘You and your gypsy.’
Wynter gritted her teeth against a reply.
‘I am sorry about Lorcan, Wyn. I want you to know that. It must seem that I do not care, but I do. It is so difficult, these days, to react to things the way one should.’ Alberon’s attention drifted to the door and he watched the insectnetting blow in the breeze. ‘I am calm, or I am angry,’ he said softly. ‘There seems to be nothing in between.’
‘Why did our fathers suppress the machine, Albi?’
‘I don’t know!’ he cried, animated once again by his frustration. ‘It makes no sense to me! Father simply dragged it into the light one moment, then pushed it back into the shadows the next. It was madness! We had already lost so many men! Things had come so damn close. Then to find that we’d had, all along, the ability to make these wonderful machines! That we’d actually had one to hand and had not used it until the very last moment? My God, Wynter!’ he lowered his forehead onto his clenched fists, his face hidden.
‘My God, I was so angry I almost killed him.’
‘Don’t say that.’
‘I’m only talking to you,’ he mumbled. ‘I’d never say it out loud.’
‘Well, it is a little late for caution in any case. The poor man thinks you mean to usurp him, Alberon. It has broken his heart.’
He shook his head. ‘I can’t let it go, Wyn. I simply know that this will work.’
Wynter stroked the cat and carefully considered her words. ‘I think that certain aspects of your plan have flaws. This marriage to Marguerite Shirken, for example.’
He looked up at her from between his fists. ‘Are we about to trade insults over marriage partners, Wyn?’
She tightened her jaw and slid him another warning look. ‘As I was saying, your plan has flaws. I think you could do with sitting down with your courtly brother and discussing some of the finer details. But on the whole, Alberon, I agree with you. I think the production of more machines is this kingdom’s great hope. I cannot understand our fathers’ suppression of them.’
Alberon lifted his head to gaze at her in wonder, and he looked so like her childhood memory of him that Wynter nearly cried. ‘Really?’ he asked.
‘Really,’ she whispered.
‘And Razi?’
She dropped her eyes. ‘Razi can be persuaded. Later.’
‘Oh . . . I see.’
He sighed, and there was a moment’s thoughtful silence between them.
‘That Haun,’ said Wynter, ‘I think he knew my father.’
‘The youngest one? Their linguist?’ At her nod, Alberon pushed wearily to his feet and went to the door, looking down into the camp. The insect-netting blew about him in the wind, and he looked like a red-clad ghost seen through mist. ‘He is a strange fellow. I think he might be mad. I suspect he was one of the Lost Hundred.’
Wynter startled at that. The thought had not even occurred to her. ‘He would have been very young when the Haun were sent east,’ she said doubtfully.
‘Aye. But think about it, sis. His excellent Southlandast, his fine manners. He has a feel of the palace about him, don’t you think?’
Wynter stroked the cat and thought about that. It certainly would