Owain was mustering his forces against Rhin. At the moment they were spread throughout Ardan, combating a scattered resistance across the land — remnants of Dalgar’s warband that had been routed on the plains about Dun Carreg. If there is any justice in this world, Owain and Rhin will kill each other. She snorted to herself, knowing the only justice she would get would be the one she made. With a sharp knife.
They reached the courtyard before the great hall. The mound of corpses had been reduced to a charred heap of twisted bone and ash. Nearby was a dark pile of dung, much bigger than any horse could leave. Cywen had seen the creature that had deposited it, a draig, led through the streets of Dun Carreg by Nathair. She shivered at the thought of it, not even fully grown, but still the most terrifying thing she had ever seen. Lizard-like, its torso had been low to the ground, carried on four bowed legs with curved, raking claws. A broad, flat skull and a square jaw with protruding, razored teeth, a thick tongue flickering. But it was the eyes that chilled her — no liquid, warm intelligence there, like her beloved horses. Its eyes had been small, dull, black. Merciless, a killer’s eyes. Conall picked up his pace and strode past her, entering the great hall first. He ignored the red-cloaked guards that stared at them both.
As they passed deeper into the keep, Cywen began to notice more of the same black-cloaked warriors that had stormed Stonegate. At first they appeared as shadows, merging with the walls, but as her eyes adjusted to the gloom she saw more and more of them, spread about the hallways. She could feel their eyes on her.
‘Here we are,’ Conall said to her, stopping before a door that had two more warriors standing before it. He looked down at Buddai. ‘That hound can’t come in.’
‘He’ll howl if he doesn’t. He’s no danger to anyone, unless they’re a danger to me. I’m not in danger, am I?’ She smiled sweetly.
‘No. All right then, but I will have your belt, please.’
Cywen just looked at him.
‘I’ve seen how you handle a knife,’ Conall said. ‘There is no way that you are going to take them in there.’
‘What do you think I am? Suicidal?’ Cywen snapped, eyes drawn to the silent warriors staring at her.
‘Maybe.’ Conall shrugged. ‘I’ve never understood women. The belt.’
Grumbling, Cywen undid it and held it out.
‘Any more? I’ll search you if I have to.’
Cywen scowled, bent over and pulled a knife from each boot, and another strapped to her arm.
‘Thank you,’ Conall said with a smile. Passing the knives to one of the guards, he entered the room. Cywen followed.
Three men stood inside: Nathair, Sumur his guard and Evnis. Cywen concentrated on Nathair, ignoring the other two. He was lean, muscular, with a strength about him, in his gaze. He still wore the two swords at his belt that she had seen on his arrival, one long, one short.
‘Welcome, Cywen. My thanks for coming,’ Nathair said, smiling at her. He poured her a cup of something from a jug. She refused it.
‘What do you want?’ she said.
Sumur stiffened.
‘Be polite,’ Conall muttered.
‘I want to talk to you. About your family, about you.’ Nathair’s smile lingered.
‘Why?’
Conall sighed.
‘As I told you,’ Evnis said, ‘she has no manners, is not fit to speak to such as you.’
Nathair waved a hand. ‘She has been through much tragedy, much heartache.’
At Nathair’s words Cywen felt a sudden pressure build behind her eyes, a burning sensation. Angrily she willed the blooming tears to fade. Don’t be an idiot, she scolded herself.
‘How old are you?’ Nathair asked.
‘I’ve seen eighteen namedays.’
‘And I understand you have a brother. Corban, I am told.’
‘Aye,’ Cywen said, feeling uncomfortable. ‘What of it?’
Nathair’s face hardened. ‘I saw him in your great hall, on the night the fortress fell. He interested me.’
‘Why?’
‘I will ask the questions, and you will answer. The stablemaster, Gar. I am told he is close to your family.’
‘Sounds like you’ve been told a lot,’ Cywen muttered, flickering a scowl at Evnis.
‘Answer the question. You are addressing a king,’ Evnis said. ‘Gar is close to your family, yes?’
‘Yes.’ Cywen glared at Evnis; the act made her feel better.
‘There were no others with him, with Gar?’ Sumur said, taking a step towards her. ‘Men like him?’
‘No. What do you mean, like him?’
Sumur didn’t answer, just stared at her until she looked away.
‘This Gar, tell me about him,’ Nathair said, glancing at Sumur.
‘What’s to tell?’ Cywen shrugged. ‘He is, was, stablemaster here. He’s always been part of my family, like kin, really.’
Nathair’s fingers tapped the rim of his cup. He was staring intently at her. ‘What else. Where is he from?’
‘Helveth, I think.’
‘This is a long way from Helveth. What brought him here?’
‘I don’t know.’ Cywen shrugged. ‘He never really spoke of his past. Something bad happened, I think, and Brenin gave him Sanctuary. He was a good king, renowned for his wisdom and kindness.’ She scowled at all of them now, knowing they had all played a part in Brenin’s death.
Nathair’s lips twitched in a smile, which made her angrier. Was he laughing at her?
‘So why was he so involved with your family?’
Cywen shrugged again. ‘I don’t know — he and my da were good friends. .’ A rush of memories almost overwhelmed her, her voice cracking. She paused. She didn’t like this, but it was clear that there must be some kind of reasoning behind this questioning, and if she played along, within reason, perhaps she could discern what was going on here.
‘Your brother, he had a wolven with him,’ Sumur said, his accent thick. ‘How did that happen.’
‘Storm? Corban saved her, as a cub.’
‘What did you say?’ Nathair whispered, a frown creasing his forehead.
‘Storm — that is the wolven’s name. He could tell you more; he was there when it happened.’ Cywen nodded at Evnis.
‘During a hunt we stumbled upon a pack of wolven. We killed them, though at some loss,’ Evnis said, pausing. ‘Vonn, my son, nearly died. .’
‘And?’ Sumur prompted.
‘There was a litter of cubs. I killed them all, except one — Corban took it, claimed King’s Justice when ordered to relinquish it. Brenin was not here — he was at your father’s council, I believe — so his wife, Alona, gave judgement. She allowed the boy to keep the wolven. Foolish of her.’
‘No, it wasn’t,’ snapped Cywen. She closed her eyes, could almost see Storm, smell her. And with her, Corban.
‘That wolven nearly ripped Rafe’s arm off, and it killed Helfach,’ Evnis hissed. ‘It should have been put to death.’
Anger swelled in Cywen. ‘You’re the one that should be put to death,’ she snarled at Evnis. ‘You’re the traitor that let Owain in. None of this would have happened if not for you. Corban, my mam, Gar would still be here, my da would still be alive. .’ Suddenly the anger was a white, consuming rage. She snatched for a knife, actually growled as she realized nothing was there and without thinking launched herself at Evnis, fingers clutching for his throat.
Evnis threw himself backwards, eyes wide with shock, but Sumur and Conall were quicker, each grabbing one of Cywen’s arms. Buddai snarled at them both, teeth snapping, not sure whom to bite first. Sumur reached for his sword hilt.
‘Easy, girl,’ Conall hissed in her ear. ‘Your hound’s about to die on your account.’
Instantly she went limp, the anger draining, consumed by concern for Buddai.
‘No, Buddai,’ she commanded. The hound paused, looking at her.
‘Let me go,’ she said. ‘I’ll not do anything. Evnis’ life is not worth trading for Buddai’s.’
Conall released her, nodding to Sumur. The black-clad warrior held her gaze a few heartbeats, then let go.