The Rebel Prince - By Celine Kiernan Page 0,87

hands.

‘Oh,’ he breathed, ‘the scum.’

‘What is it?’ mumbled Wynter.

Christopher shook his head.

‘It Maidin Ór,’ snapped Sólmundr. ‘It Merron song! It Merron! Who teach it to coimhthíoch?’

‘I did,’ whispered Christopher, ‘when I were a slave. I taught Pierre to play it on my father’s guitar.’

Sól sank back in shock. ‘But why, Coinín?’ he cried. ‘It Merron song, we not ever—’

‘Because I liked it!’ hissed Christopher, glaring across at him. ‘I liked it, and I used play it, and he made me teach it to him! All right? Is that all right, Sól? Can you accept that?’

At Christopher’s taut anger, Sólmundr softened instantly and held up his hands, his face gentle.

‘Shhhh,’ he said. ‘Shhhhh, a luch. Ná bac faoí . . . it all right.’

Christopher’s face darkened and he bowed his head again. He dug his fingers into his hair and squeezed hard, as if trying to hold himself together.

‘You not to worry, luichín,’ rumbled Úlfnaor. ‘No one blame you. It not your fault that those caic steal everything they see.’

The music continued to float gently around them and it was as if the entire camp had paused to listen, so quiet had the night become. Somewhere out there, the blond Wolf sat and played that lovely tune, and Wynter had no doubt that this terrible pained reaction was the very reason he had chosen it. She imagined him glancing up from the strings to look at David Le Garou, the knowledge of what he was doing clear in his grin, and she wondered if he was still playing Aidan Garron’s guitar.

At that thought, anger blazed hot and clear and sharp within her, and she welcomed it. It felt good. It felt much better than her previous muffling fog. Razi sat at her side, his hands clenched, his face dull, and Wynter glared at him.

‘When shall we act?’ she asked.

‘Soon,’ he whispered. ‘Give me time.’

‘For what? The Haun have gone back to their leaders, bearing the message Alberon wished. What use have you for the Wolves now?’

Razi sighed and shut his eyes. ‘Please, Wyn,’ he said.

Christopher looked up from between his hands, his face hard. She met his eye, rage to rage. ‘Soon’ was not enough.

The music ceased without warning, cutting off in mid-chord, as if the guitar had been snatched from the player or dropped from his hand. It was so abrupt an ending that everyone sat frowning for a moment, waiting for it to start again. Christopher straightened, staring out into the quiet night. The silence stretched on, and the sounds of the camp filtered in to fill the void. Hallvor glanced at Sólmundr, sidelong, from the corner of her eye. Sólmundr studiously did not look her way.

With a warning growl, the warhounds stood up, and the Merron snapped to attention, following the hounds’ gaze.

‘Stand down your dogs,’ said a familiar voice. ‘I must speak to my brother.’

Wynter and Razi got to their feet as Alberon stepped into the light. His face was drawn, his red cloak bundled around him as if for comfort. Oliver, just visible in the shadows at his back, eyed the assembly with caution, but Alberon only had eyes for his brother.

‘Razi,’ he said hoarsely, ‘do you know?’

‘Wyn told me,’ whispered Razi.

Alberon shook his head. He drew his cloak even tighter and stayed at the edge of the light. ‘Jesu,’ he whispered. ‘To have slaughtered them all. Even women, Razi . . . even little children. I cannot conceive of such a wicked act. It is no wonder Father struggled so hard to hide those machines.’

With a whine, Boro trotted across to the Prince. The Merron straightened anxiously and Oliver tensed, but Alberon, ever a lover of dogs, just glanced down and fondled the hound’s sharp ears. He seemed to lose himself for a moment in this innocent activity; then he took a deep breath.

‘Razi,’ he said at last. ‘What are we going to do? How am I ever to bridge this rift?’

‘We must talk,’ said Razi quietly.

Alberon glanced with uncertainty at the ring of attentive faces sitting around the fire.

‘Not here,’ said Razi.

Alberon nodded. ‘Come on,’ he said and wearily gestured Razi to his side.

Wynter and Christopher went to follow, but Razi held his hand out to still them.

‘Stay,’ he said.

They leapt to object and Razi snapped at them, ‘Stay, goddamn it.

’ Wynter drew herself up in frozen disbelief. He would deny her this? After all they had been through, he would leave her out in the cold? ‘Razi!’ she cried.

But Razi strode past without

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