of the rift between the two men apparent in their wary, sunburned faces. Personally, Wynter had difficulty not spitting on the ground at Oliver’s feet, but of course there was not a trace of sarcasm in Razi’s voice, nor even a hint of bitterness when he said, ‘My brother is blessed to have such fealty in his commanders and such fierce loyalty in his men. No knight could ever be truer, Sir Oliver. We work in common, and I am honoured to accept your protection and loyalty.’
How he did not choke upon the words Wynter did not know, but she saw their effect as the soldiers’ wariness turned to grudging acceptance. She knew that these men would follow Oliver’s lead now, and would lay their lives down for Razi as surely as yesterday they would have slit his throat. Such was a soldier’s life, after all. In the space of one moment, the very man they were engaging in battle could become the man to whom they must bow, and the why and wherefore of such changing fortunes would always remain beyond their grasp. These soldiers’ only constant was in their loyalty to the Prince, and in the end all they could do was what the Prince asked of them and hope for the best.
Oliver straightened without meeting Razi’s eye and Wynter turned from him, her face smooth and expressionless. Alberon squeezed Razi’s shoulder and let go. He stepped forward and raised his hand for attention. At the back of the crowd, Wynter saw Gérard stagger up behind Le Garou, his face drawn, his proud bearing buckled under the effects of Sól’s poison. Gérard went to speak and Le Garou snapped his hand up, silencing him, his eyes on the Prince.
‘You may soon commence to packing,’ said Alberon, gravely addressing his men. ‘You will be on the road within the month.’
Wynter saw shocked delight blossom in the men’s faces. Still, they regarded the Prince in silence, as if doubting his meaning.
‘Home!’ bellowed Alberon, thrusting his fists to heaven, and his soldiers cheered in suddenly boisterous joy. Alberon raised his voice over theirs and cried, ‘My brother will go ahead as my envoy! He will prepare our way. You will be heading home within the month, men! The palace gates will be flung wide; your families who have, from necessity, disowned you will fling their arms about you; and we will be fêted as the men who risked all to strengthen this kingdom!’
The men roared and jostled, and Alberon let them caper about for a moment, his expression tender. Then he slowly raised his arms over his head again, and gradually the men stilled, looking up at him in smiling anticipation.
‘We have risked our lives for this,’ he said. ‘We have risked our fortunes, our good names, the love of our families. We have always known that the final step would be hardest. Now, thanks to my brother, it is as simple as packing our bags and strolling home. We are done,’ he yelled. ‘We have prevailed.’
The men seemed to sigh as one. Wynter saw some of them close their eyes. Some turned their faces to the sky.
‘We are done,’ repeated Alberon quietly. Then he raised his arms a little higher, and though his voice carried far across the silently gathered men, his next words had all the intimacy of a prayer uttered in the private company of friends.
‘Long live my father,’ he said. ‘Long live the King.’
And his men, like a congregation in solemn communion with God, answered low and heartfelt, ‘Long live his Majesty. Long live the King.’
ONE STEP FORWARD
ALBERON BROKE from Razi as soon as they entered his tent. ‘There you have it, brother,’ he sighed, wearily taking a seat at the map-table. ‘That should keep your head on your shoulders a while longer.’
Christopher and Wynter hesitated at the door, and Razi impatiently gestured them inside. Oliver was about to make his way past them and into the tent when Razi directed the knight’s attention down the hill. Wynter followed his meaningful glance. David Le Garou and Gérard were approaching the sentries at the base of the hill, David’s face set in determination.
‘Deal with that, would you, Sir Knight?’ murmured Razi.
Oliver pointedly looked past Razi to Alberon, seeking the Prince’s orders. ‘The Loups-Garous desire access, your Highness,’ he said.
Alberon sat back, regarding Wynter and Christopher with irritation. ‘In your nocturnal wanderings, did you perhaps cause mayhem of which I should be aware?’ At the young couple’s blushing silence,