TOOK his seat and did not look at his brother. ‘Tell the Haun to come up now, Sir Oliver; Monsieur Le Garou and I are ready to speak with them. Lord Razi, you may stay, or you may go. It makes no odds to me either way.’
‘Alberon . . .’ whispered Razi.
But Alberon looked to David Le Garou and said, ‘How shall we handle this, Monsieur? Do you prefer to speak, or shall I?’ and that was it. Razi was out in the cold, watching from a distance as his brother went about his business.
The Haun came – eager, fawning, and utterly thrown. Their linguist translated Le Garou’s news with frozen shock, and the older men’s subsequent efforts to cajole and deny flowed around Wynter as a stark contrast to Razi’s broken silence. He simply sat through it all with his eyes on the table, his face weary. He seemed utterly spent.
At some stage Coriolanus crawled onto Wynter’s lap, and she cradled him with absent protectiveness as the Wolves leered at her from the corners of their eyes. Oliver hovered in the background while Alberon put the panicked Haun in their place. The knight was as poised and imposing as ever, but he looked exhausted, and sometimes, in spite of his courtly detachment, Wynter caught him glancing at Razi or at Le Garou, his face naked with misery.
The Haun left at last, and Alberon rose to dismiss the Wolves. He grinned crookedly, reached across the table, and to Wynter’s dismay, shook David Le Garou’s gloved hand.
‘So,’ he said, ‘we are done.’
‘Our bargain is sealed now, Prince?’ asked Le Garou. ‘My pack will rest easy in your protection?’
Alberon’s face hardened a little and he tightened his grip on the Wolf ’s hand. ‘Do not cross me, monsieur, and I shall endeavour not to cross you.’
Le Garou smiled his sharp smile and held the Prince’s eye. ‘I shall not cross you, Prince,’ he said. His eyes dropped briefly to Razi, as if dismissing a spot of dirt on the table; then he turned to his men. ‘Go direct the boys to set up our quarters.’
They bowed. ‘Yes, Father,’ they said, and Wynter saw Le Garou soak up the title, closing his eyes to it as to a lover’s caress.
‘Yes,’ he whispered. ‘Father. At last.’
Alberon frowned in distaste at this, and Wynter saw him unconsciously rub his hand on his trousers. ‘Sir Oliver will direct your men as to where they can camp,’ he said. ‘And, Le Garou, your followers will behave around the Haun, you understand? There will be no triumphalism.’
Le Garou bowed. ‘None at all,’ he promised, smooth as buttered oil.
Oliver led the Wolves from sight and Alberon stood in silence for a moment, listening to their retreating footsteps. Wynter held Coriolanus close, waiting for Alberon’s anger; waiting for the moment he would turn on Razi and let loose on him all the rage of a prince whose authority had been slighted. She actually jumped when Razi was the first to speak. He kept his voice very soft and did not look up at his brother.
‘The Wolves have six riders in the forest,’ he said.
Alberon glanced coldly at him. ‘To what purpose?’ he asked, crossing to retrieve Marguerite Shirken’s papers and seating himself at his battered little writing table.
‘Self-protection,’ said Razi.
Wynter waited while Alberon uncorked his inkwell and set up his quills. Perhaps there was a chance Razi could work his way back from this? If he was quiet and respectful and of use? Alberon untied the diplomatic folder, chose a letter and broke the seal. He scanned the document, then moved on to the next. ‘They are of danger to my men?’ he asked.
Razi lifted his eyes to Wynter, and she gazed hopefully at him. ‘I doubt they are a threat,’ he said. ‘Not at the moment.’
‘Good,’ said Alberon, scanning another letter, his tone leaving no doubt that he was concentrating on things infinitely more important than his brother’s opinion. Laying the document aside, he snapped the seal on the next. Sitting in the crosswise slash of light cast by the door, the sun in his pale hair, his face hard with regal detachment, Wynter thought he had never looked more like his father. He had never looked more like a king.
‘Alberon?’ said Razi.
‘I am busy now, brother. We shall talk later.’
‘Alberon, I should be grateful if the Loups-Garous were quartered as far from my tent as possible.’
Alberon lowered the parchment and looked at Razi at last. ‘Your diplomacy only