goes so far, is that it, brother? You cannot bring yourself to—’
‘Albi,’ said Razi softly. ‘The damaged property the Wolves spoke of was my friend, Christopher. The vandalism to which they refer was the removal of his fingers.’
Alberon’s face opened in shock and he regarded Razi for a moment with pure and untainted sympathy. ‘Jesu, Razi,’ he breathed.
‘He has borne my tolerance of them all these years, brother. Do not force him to endure their close proximity now; not when it is clear that his patience may never be rewarded.’
Alberon dropped his eyes to Marguerite Shirken’s letter. She had written in dark-red ink, and the neat script put Wynter in mind of blood. Perfect little instances of blood, laid side-by-side in marshalled rows. The impossibly neat aftermath of a mass execution.
‘Marcel!’ shouted Alberon suddenly, his unexpected yell making Wynter jump again.
The lieutenant came to the door, and Alberon spoke without looking around: ‘Go now, and within the earshot of Le Garou, tell Sir Oliver that I have decided to spare those Wolves that are lurking in the forest. If Sir Oliver is lacking enough to look puzzled, tell him that the Prince has no further need to keep his knowledge of the Wolf spies secret.’
‘Aye, your Highness.’
‘Marcel.’
‘Aye, Highness.’
‘Make certain that the Wolves are quartered as far from the Lord Razi’s tent as is physically possible.’
Marcel flicked a curious glance at Razi, saluted, and left.
Razi shut his eyes in gratitude. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered.
But Alberon had already turned back to his reading. He did not bother to dismiss his brother; just sat in busy silence until Razi got to his feet.
Wynter hoped she might be allowed stay; had resolved herself to gentle persuasion once Razi had left. But as soon as Razi moved to go, Alberon said, ‘I am busy, Protector Lady Moorehawke.’
‘Will you not spare me a little of your time, your Highness? There is surely . . .’
‘Perhaps you can visit later,’ snapped Alberon, his eyes on the letter. ‘When I have time to spend on the nicer things.’
Wynter glanced at Razi, who was waiting by the door. He gestured bleakly that she come along. Gently, she deposited a reluctant Cori at the foot of Alberon’s bed and rose to leave.
She had only just passed Alberon’s table when he cursed low and furious and shot to his feet.
‘He is not an envoy!’ he cried, brandishing Shirken’s letter. ‘That Merron snake! He is not an envoy! She says here that she has been forced to entrust her representatives to . . . see here,’ he indicated a section of text and read aloud, ‘to the care of a man I am not certain I can trust. A churlish knave, one leader of the Merron, named Úlfnaor, Air . . . Aeeur . . . curse it, I cannot pronounce that bloody name! In any case, listen to this: I am most concerned by this man, but have been left with no choice and must hope that he does not live up to his people’s reputation of treachery and deceit. I have . . . Wait, where is the next? Yes, listen . . . my envoys are a handsome pair, twin brother and sister, the most becoming of God’s creatures. Certainly, my dear, when you behold them you shall not fail to know they were sent by me. They are blond as God’s blessed sunlight and their demeanour is quite wonderfully courtly and refined – one can only pray to God’s divine grace that these same manners will influence the savages with whom they are forced to travel. As it is, I fear it likely that this Merron cur will do away with them entirely and set himself up in their place . . . for no better reason than he will have the chance to act the lord and so be showered in trinkets on his arrival.
’ Alberon looked up from the paper and his face said it all.
‘Which he did!’ he exclaimed. ‘He did! You saw him! Acting the nobleman! Good Christ! I shall have his goddamned pagan head for it! Listen to this: My dear, these two envoys are most trusted and beloved of me. Should worst come to worst, I beg you take leave to avenge their mistreatment on my behalf. This mission has been a calculated gesture of faith from me to the Merron. I pray that they are sensible and accept my generous trust in them. Should they, once again, prove incapable of civilised