not move or reply, and after a moment Razi nodded and walked away. Alberon glanced at Wynter.
‘What he says is true?’
She nodded dumbly, her neck stiff. Alberon looked down again at Shirken’s paper, obviously confused at the differences between his brother’s story and that of the Princess.
She makes a toy of you, thought Wynter. She uses you to her own end. But she said nothing, because sometimes the truth was easier to take when you were allowed see it for yourself. Alberon wandered back into his tent, and Wynter watched him return to his little writing table and sit. He spread Marguerite’s letter on the table, smoothed her blood-red writing beneath his hand, and once again, he began to read.
Without a word, Wynter turned from him and followed Razi down the hill.
A STRING OF SILVER LIES
THE WOLVES had not yet moved from the foot of the hill, though Oliver, already mounted and obviously fuming, was doing his best to get them going. Razi did not falter as he neared the milling horses, but the Wolves’ smirks and sly glances made it obvious that they had delayed moving off so that he would be forced to make his way past them.
Wynter was alarmed to see the female Merron warriors striding up the road towards them, their eyes fixed firmly on Razi. Led by Hallvor, the women had their shields in hand, and their weapons, though sheathed, were strapped around their waists. They were coming to protect their Caora. Wynter knew that such a show of strength would bode ill for them, and for Razi, so she lifted her hand to them, her face set in grim warning. Stop where you are! Hallvor saw her, and gestured the others to a halt. Wynter glared and jerked her chin to the tents, get back, and after a moment’s hesitation, the warriors bowed and melted away.
David Le Garou pointedly ignored Razi, but when Jean stepped into Razi’s path and bowed low, Wynter saw Le Garou smile to himself in sly amusement.
‘Al-Sayyid!’ cried Jean. ‘Where go you? Will you not stay with the Prince? Have you not more advice you can give him?’
Razi swerved past without answering.
Gérard chuckled as he swung himself into his saddle. ‘Don’t be a whelp, Jean,’ he murmured.
Oliver’s face darkened. ‘You are clogging up the thoroughfare,’ he snapped at David. ‘Tell your men to get going.’
David just smiled at him, and took his time gathering his reins.
Gérard suddenly walked his horse backwards, and Razi was forced to jerk to a halt as the huge animal blocked his path. ‘Oops,’ said Gérard childishly, but he made no move to pull his mount out of the way. Wynter came to Razi’s side, staring up into the Wolf ’s dark, grinning face.
‘It will be nice to be neighbours again,’ called David Le Garou. ‘One gets so used to the familiar. It feels empty when one does not see the same faces every day.’
Razi clenched his hands and strode away through the choking dust. But Le Garou was not finished, and he wheeled around and kicked forward until they were on a level. Wynter, jogging beside her silent friend, glanced up. The Wolf was simply walking his horse along, matching Razi’s pace. David’s handsome face was serene, his eyes roaming the tents as if seeking a nice spot to picnic.
‘Lovely,’ he sighed. ‘Simply perfect.’
His men fell in behind him, and the whole entourage trotted slowly along beside Razi, their faces painted with glee. Razi just kept striding forward, stubbornly refusing to duck in among the tents and out of Le Garou’s range.
‘Hmm,’ mused the Wolf, arching an eyebrow towards the now silent Merron quarters. ‘That mongrel has finally ceased his yapping. Perhaps the Prince has done the sensible thing and had him muzzled . . . certainly I should do the same, were I lumbered with such an undisciplined beast. They’re simply too untrustworthy, these packless creatures. In fact, I believe I may go so far as to say—’
To Wynter’s relief, Oliver chose that moment to urge his horse between David and Razi, cutting Le Garou off in mid-sentence. The knight kept himself between them and glared across at the Wolf with every ounce of his courtly disdain. ‘You will break off here, Le Garou. Now. Or I shall be forced to make you sleep in the forest with the rest of your mangy curs.’
Wynter lost sight of Le Garou’s face as Oliver danced his own mount sideways, forcing the Wolf ’s big stallion to