Queen of Fire

“They yielded according to custom,” Ermund told him, not without a note of regret. “The baron will decide their fate.”

“Best keep ’em away from us on the march,” Draker muttered darkly before stomping off to do some more looting.

Banders had extracted enough information from the captured knights to reveal the depth of Darnel’s current delusions. “Rebuilding the palace, making himself a king,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m given to wonder if the Volarians haven’t put some Dark spell on him, stripping away all reason.”

“It was always there, Father,” Lady Ulice said quietly. “This madness. I remember it well enough. As a girl I mistook it for passion, love even. And it may well have been, but love for himself, bound only by his father’s will. With Fief Lord Theros gone he feels himself free, able to fly at last.”

“We’ll have to hope his unreason leaves him deaf to Al Hestian’s counsel,” Banders said. “Taking Varinshold by stealth may well be impossible now and all he need do is wait behind its walls whilst his allies conclude their business in Cumbrael.”

“I should still like to attempt the sewers, my lord,” Frentis said. “Alone if necessary.”

This drew some odd glances from the assembled captains, Sollis’s gaze particularly grave in its intensity. Frentis knew his freshly lightened soul showed on his face but the wolf’s gift was a cherished thing and he saw little reason to hide it. You must forgive yourself.

“I’ll . . . be sure to bear that in mind, brother,” Banders assured him with the kind of tight smile Frentis recognised. The smile you offer to one you think mad.

“We stand barely a few miles from the Nilsaelin border,” Lord Furel said. “A pause here to rest and await word from my messengers might be the best course. Reinforcements could well be marching to our side as we speak. At the very least some word will be coming from the Reaches.”

Banders looked at Sollis with a questioning eye. “I’ll send my brothers out in all directions,” the Brother Commander said. “If there’s word to be had within fifty miles of here, we’ll have it within two days.”

Banders nodded. “Very well. We camp here. Brother Frentis, you come under your brother’s word, not mine, but I think we are of like mind in saying your visit to Varinshold will have to wait.”

Frentis shrugged, bowing with an affable grin. “As my lord wishes.” His smile lingered as he made his way back to his tent, the unease he had felt at the very sight of his bedroll now vanished. A dreamless sleep, he thought, pulling off his boots and lying back on the blanket. I wonder how it’ll feel.

• • •

She watches them fight with cold detachment, assessing skill and speed as they dance in the pit below. Steely echoes rebound from the walls that surround her, the stone roof above coarse and free of decoration, for these are new pits, chiselled out far below the streets of Volar, the birthplace of long-gestated children.

Do you like them, beloved? she asks him, knowing he sees them, keen to engage his interest, hungry in fact to hear a single word from across the gulf that divides them. We learned so much from you.

The men in the pit below fight without restraint and die without screams. But their faces are not those of Kuritai, no blank automata here. These men grimace in pain and snarl in fury, register grim satisfaction at bloody victory. There are at least a hundred in the pit, moving with all the fluency of those bred to the fight.

Give a dog too tight a leash, she thinks, and it chokes. And however much you whip it, it will always be a dog. But these, beloved. She smiles down at the men in the pit. These are lions.