33
Unexpected Visitors

Alyssa sat in her favourite armchair and ignored the food laid out in front of her. Even the waft of Cook’s special chicken broth could not entice her. Hunger was not her companion this evening. Her mind was preoccupied with the startling event which had occurred just over an Eighthday ago. She traced it over and over in her thoughts. She had been dancing and jesting with Gyl. True, she had been fatigued from the day’s activities followed by the dancing, but not so exhausted that she should collapse so dramatically.

Physic Kelvyn had insisted on rest for several days. He had given her a vile-tasting tonic in which she recognised all the herbs of an infusion which would help her rest. She hated to take any stupefacient but with Lorys and Gyl grimly standing by, she had obliged.

Perhaps it had helped; her body did feel rested for the two days’ forced confinement to her bed, although she hated the fussing. Lorys had left his own chambers to move into hers and she loved the way he held her close each evening and gave the order not to be disturbed. Alyssa knew she had terrified him by passing out like that. She guessed it brought back horrible memories of Nyria dying in his arms.

She was not dying. But she knew it was not exhaustion either, nor could it be passed off as the result of a bad batch of quail eggs. It was a convenient excuse but highly unlikely, as no one but she and Sallementro had been affected. It was curious that Sallementro had shown the same reaction. Something had happened in the Heartwood; she was sure of it. It was the only connection between them. The only possible explanation. Which was why she had banished everyone from her chambers this evening, claiming a headache. She hated to lie but Lorys, much against his will, had travelled west on Crown business and now that the main fusspot had departed, she needed the rest of the attention to stop. She needed peace to think.

What could have happened to cause such a massive disturbance to the Heartwood that the shock should reach out this far to affect her and her Paladin? She wondered about Saxon, wherever he might be right now; perhaps he too had collapsed? And Cloot. Had Saxon found the falcon? Had the falcon felt the shift?

As she expected—and this time she did not fight it—her thoughts turned to Tor. She missed that lovely voice in her head. She would welcome his companionship right now; she felt very scared. She had avoided it for as long as she could, but as she sat there, the broth cooling at her side, she finally allowed the dread thought to surface.

The last of the Paladin had fallen. Orlac was free.

Was this truly the case? Surely nothing else would cause the Heartwood to scream and all those connected with it to feel its pain. And the voices in her head—had she heard Orlac delivering his killing blow?

Alyssa shivered. There was no other explanation.

She heard a soft knock at the door and her new, rather nervous maid tiptoed into the room and asked if she wished to see Sallementro at this late hour.

‘Yes. Bring him in. I’ll be right out. Dismiss everyone for the night, Tanya. I shall be needing nothing further, thank you.’

The maid bobbed a curtsy and disappeared. Alyssa took a few minutes to tidy herself, then stepped into her salon, where the musician stood at the window. He turned and smiled although his expression was sad. ‘Are you well, your majesty? It is so good to see you.’ He bent low and kissed her hand.

She did not let go of it. ‘I feel fine, Sal. And you?’

They spoke as friends now.

‘It wasn’t quail eggs, Alyssa.’

‘I know,’ she replied softly.

‘I don’t understand it properly; I never really have. But I sense it was connected with the fact that I am Paladin and bonded to you.’

Alyssa stepped up and put her arms around him. ‘I believe,’ she said haltingly, ‘that Orlac is free.’

She felt his body tense.

‘Then you are in danger, my lady. I must protect you as I promised Saxon,’ he said, not feeling especially brave.

‘I don’t really understand it either, Sal. I think that all of us involved in this strange quest are in danger now: Saxon, Cloot, you, me…all of those who may still be alive in the Heartwood.’

‘What should we do?’

She sighed and let her arms drop away, then stared out of the window with him.

‘Without Torkyn Gynt, I am lost, Sallementro. He was the One. He was the only weapon we had against this foe. I don’t know who we turn to or even who we can tell. I would like to tell the King but I just can’t see Lorys believing such a tale. Can you?’

The musician turned and put his arms on her shoulders. ‘An Eighthday ago we were given a sign. I think we must wait for the next one.’

Alyssa grimaced. ‘But who has the power to stop a rampaging god?’ She felt a flutter of panic.

Sallementro surprised himself at his conviction. ‘None of us. Which is why we wait, your majesty. Other forces are at play here. We cannot control them. They seem to control us. I am hopeful that Lys will visit soon and tell me what I should do next.’

‘At least you have Lys.’

He ignored her bitter comment. ‘Saxon would have felt it too. Wherever he is, I think we can count on his fast return to you. Let us wait for that.’

‘And then what, Sal? The three of us fight a god…with what? My powers are stymied for ever.’ She pointed to the green disc on her forehead.

‘I sincerely believe we will be given a sign; we will be shown our next step.’

There was another soft knock at the door. Alyssa swung around.

‘No one leaves me alone any more. Everyone thinks I’m about to die on them.’

She marched towards the door. ‘Another Queen of Tallinor gone!’ she said, hating the nastiness in her voice which was born of the fear she was suddenly feeling.

She pulled the door open and Tanya bobbed a terrified curtsy.

‘Well?’ the Queen said.

‘Your highness, forgive my disturbance. This has arrived for you. The bearer said it was urgent and for your eyes only.’

Alyssa looked at the scruffy note in her hands. ‘Who brought this?’

‘Um…an old man, your majesty. He…er…he said I was to tell you that Rufus Akre’s teeth finally fell out.’ The maid shrugged. It was a stupid message but she had been directed to deliver it.

Alyssa was shocked. She covered her surprise with a nervous laugh. She had not heard that name in years. Rufus Akre, the lad with gravestones for teeth, who had so desperately wanted to catch her posy during the Floral Dance at Minstead Green. It was the day she expected Tor to ask for her hand. She shook her head with no understanding. Only she and Tor knew of Rufus Akre and his intentions.

Tanya held out the note. ‘Um…the Under Prime spoke with the old man and said it would be all right for me to deliver this, your majesty. He says the old fellow is probably just batty and harmless. Gyl…er, that is, the Under Prime, your majesty, says he believes it could be a note from your father.’

Alyssa took the note, still shaking her head at the old memories which the name of Rufus Akre dredged up. She thanked Tanya and closed the door whilst the maid was still trying to effect another nervous curtsy.

‘Not bad news, I hope?’ Sallementro enquired.

Alyssa walked to her desk. ‘No. But very strange,’ she said, frowning and reaching for her blade to break open the sealing wax.

She read it, her eyes widening. ‘Sal…it’s from Saxon.’

‘What news?’ said the musician, hugely relieved.

‘It’s so odd,’ she said, looking up. ‘He wants me to meet him in the small wood just to the west of the palace.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, that’s just it. He doesn’t really say. There’s someone he needs me to meet but he cannot bring this person to the palace.’

‘You mean he’s here…now? Waiting for you?’

‘He must be.’ She showed him the note.

Sallementro read it quickly. ‘He’s quite firm that you’re not to bring anyone but me with you.’

‘Now, isn’t that bizarre?’ Alyssa exclaimed. ‘Why the secrecy? And why the odd reference to Rufus Akre? He doesn’t know Rufus Akre any more than you do.’

‘Who is Rufus Akre?’

‘Precisely my point!’ she said impatiently. ‘Only Tor would dream up that sort of password to get my attention. And he’s dead.’

The musician bit his lip in thought. ‘Perhaps he mentioned him to Saxon at some stage and Saxon realised you would consider the name a safe code, one you could trust. He must have good reason to use it, Alyssa. I would trust my life to Saxon.’

She looked at him. ‘I do trust him with my life. We’d better go.’

‘How do we get out without being noticed?’

She thought swiftly. ‘I know a way out.’

Sallementro hesitated. ‘You don’t think this is a trap? I mean, should we perhaps tell Gyl?’

She shrugged. ‘It is Saxon’s writing. He would sooner die than lead me into a trap, even if someone was holding a knife to his throat. No, I believe it is genuine, but I am certainly intrigued by the covertness. And, to be frank, Gyl is the last person to bring in on this. He’s worried about me already; this would send him frantic. He would immediately order the Shield to search the woods. Gyl would not be able to tolerate such a shrouded message.’

‘And the King?’ he asked, reminding her of her status.

‘The King is not here, Sallementro. I am the only sovereign in this palace right now and I shall do exactly as I please.’ She grinned. ‘I’ll get my cloak.’

They listened at the door and could hear nothing. The palace was always quiet when Lorys was away. Alyssa was sure he single-handedly created all the noise and bustle of the royal household. She lifted the latch and opened the door slowly. Two guards sprang to attention outside, giving both her and Sallementro a fright. She had not expected to be supervised quite so closely.

‘Your highness,’ one said and nodded.

Alyssa composed herself. ‘Who ordered this guard at my door?’

‘Under Prime Gyl, your highness.’

‘And you are?’

‘Eamon of the Shield, your majesty.’ He bowed stiffly again.

‘Well, Eamon of the Shield. I am not a child, I am not sick and I will not be supervised like this. I simply fainted, for Light’s sake! Now, I wish to take a night stroll with Sallementro and I do not wish to be followed. Is that clear?’

‘Yes, your majesty. I will inform only the Under Prime.’

She swung around. ‘You will do no such thing. In fact, Eamon of the Shield, I shall go directly to him and tell him myself. Perhaps you forget that he is my son; he, like you, will do as the Queen commands.’

The guard was mortified. He nodded. ‘As you wish, your majesty.’

‘I wish,’ she said and marched away.

Sallementro scuttled after her. ‘So, you can be tough when you want to,’ he whispered, impressed.

‘Oh, you don’t know the half of it, Sal,’ she replied, stifling a laugh as they escaped the watchful eye of the Shield.

She led Sallementro towards the kitchens. Those people still up and around the palace were surprised to see her walking the corridors and especially at such a late hour. Alyssa adopted a haughty air and even gave a couple of pages some errands.

She is magnificent, Sallementro thought, seeing her through new eyes as the distinguished sovereign she had quietly become. She was not a girl any more; she was not even just a beautiful woman any more, or aide to the King. She is our Queen, he suddenly articulated in his head. She is truly aristocratic.

‘Someone is going to tell Gyl. Too many people have seen us,’ he warned.

‘Let them,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘I am not scared of Gyl. And we will be long gone before he catches up with us.’

It was a boring evening. He did not feel tired enough to sleep but he was certainly tired of patrolling the grounds and battlements. His captains were already well in control of tonight’s watch and Gyl felt decidedly redundant. He wished he had accompanied the King when given the opportunity, but he could tell that Prime Herek preferred him to remain behind to keep the command strong. He did his duty but he felt restless. And the Light strike him if his mind did not keep flicking back to that young woman heading off into the hills on her own towards Axon. He wondered what had become of her. Had she perished?

Lauryn—a pretty name. He wondered if the face matched. He shook his head clear of such thoughts and decided he would visit his mother. The episode on her NameDay feast was still bothering him. The Queen was in excellent health and this strange incident yielded no explanation around which he could comfortably wrap his mind. He had allowed Physic Kelvyn to pass it off as a mild poisoning from a batch of quail eggs gone bad, but he knew his mother hated eggs. She never ate them unless they were disguised in cakes or pastries.

And he had seen it in her eyes that she tolerated the explanation for his and the King’s sake but inwardly dismissed it. And what about Sallementro? He had reacted at almost the same instant in an identical manner. Why was no one asking questions of this? When he tried to question the King, Lorys had not permitted any further discussion. Gyl realised Lorys could not tolerate any suggestion that anything might be wrong. Well, Alyssa was strong enough now. He would go up to her rooms to share some supper with her. Perhaps she might shed some light on the incident in private.

When Gyl arrived at the Queen’s chambers, both of the guards he had personally posted were not there. He stopped a passing page and asked him to immediately fetch Eamon of the Shield. In the meantime, he knocked softly on the door. There was no response. He listened at the door. Silence. Gyl tried knocking again, wondering why no maid answered. Perhaps the Queen had gone to her bed early and dismissed her staff? It was plausible but did not explain the absence of the guards.

He knew the chambers would be unlocked. No one was allowed past the main guard at the bottom of this tower so the area was secure. He tried the latch and it gave. Stepping inside, he noticed only two candles burning; the rest of the salon was in darkness. He had just decided to peep into the bedroom, in case his mother was sleeping, when a man cleared his throat at the doorway. Turning he saw the guard.

‘Ah, Eamon. Is it my imagination or did I not give orders for you and one other to keep watch here?’

Eamon was standing to attention. ‘No, sir, it is not your imagination.’

‘Then why, may I enquire, have you left your post?’ He kept his voice even but inside Gyl was seething.

‘Sir, Queen Alyssa dismissed us when she left her chambers earlier.’

‘She dismissed you and you didn’t think it appropriate to inform me?’

‘Sir, the Queen forbade me to inform you. She made it very clear to us that she was going directly to speak with you, sir.’

Gyl felt unnerved by his mother’s behaviour. Why would she undermine him like this? ‘Well, she did not come directly to me. I have not seen the Queen this evening.’

Eamon’s eyes flicked nervously from the Under Prime to the flagstones. ‘Sir, she did say she was taking a night stroll.’

Light! This was getting worse by the moment. ‘Was anyone with her?’ Gyl asked, amazed that she would head out into total darkness.

‘Yes, sir. Sallementro the musician was accompanying her.’

Gyl considered this. His mother never took night strolls, though he was glad to hear Sallementro was with her.

‘Tell me, Eamon, did her maid deliver a note here earlier this evening?’

‘Yes, sir. And the Queen left almost directly after.’

Gyl sighed. ‘I see. Did she say where she was going for her stroll?’

‘No, sir, she didn’t. She dismissed her staff and us. She was quite angry, sir, that we were here on guard.’

‘Yes, I imagine she was,’ Gyl said, thinking aloud. He wished he could somehow get a peep at the note.

‘You may go, Eamon. In future, soldier, your duty is to the Shield first and foremost. No orders are to override those of your senior officer. Is that clear?’

‘Yes, sir, but the Queen was quite wrathful, sir.’

Gyl wanted to laugh. His mother wrathful? Ridiculous. ‘Dismissed,’ he said wearily. The soldier gave the Shield salute and disappeared quickly.

Gyl thought about the sequence of events involving the note. The old man who had delivered it had seemed rather pathetic. He had not begged an audience; had simply asked that someone might be kind enough to pass the note to the Queen. He said he came from the same district as she had and knew her father. He simply wanted to pass on some news. He had reassured Gyl there was no bad news contained in it; just a note from a father to his daughter. It had seemed harmless and it was only a note, after all. But where could she have gone? What was in that note?

Gyl knew that Alyssa would have to sneak out of the palace; she would be well aware that he would not approve of her leaving its safety in the dead of night. How would she do it? He thought on it a few moments and decided on the kitchens—it was an area of the palace she knew intimately and it had many exits.

He took the flight of stairs three at a time, startling the guards at the bottom of the tower. He simply could not have his mother, the Queen when all is said and done, in any situation which was not secure. It was his responsibility, as Queen’s champion, to see to her absolute safety.

Cook stoked the smouldering fire for the last time that night. From now on one of the scullery maids or one of those rascal boys would be in charge of keeping the flames alive until dawn. She was exhausted. The King was due back in the palace tomorrow and she was planning one of her special welcome home meals, but the preparations were taking their toll so soon after the NameDay feast which had gone so horribly wrong.

Cook shook her head as she poked the flames into life. The suggestion that her quail eggs were bad was so preposterous she refused to give it legitimacy by even responding to such a claim. She blew on the new flames angrily. The eggs had been fresh that morning. There was more to her Queen’s collapse than people were letting on. Still, it was none of her business.

She had heard that Alyssa, and indeed that musician of hers, were both well now and that was all that mattered. She straightened with a groan, trying to stretch her back. As she did, she heard footsteps approaching and whispering. Turning, she was surprised to see the Queen, dressed for outdoors, together with the same musician who had just been in her thoughts.

She smiled. ‘Well now, my Queen. What brings you down here so late of an evening?’

Alyssa put her finger to her lips and spoke very softly. ‘Hush, Cook. I’m trying to steal an hour for a walk. That wretched physic has me cooped up in my chambers and I am well sick of it all. I am in excellent health and I just want some fresh air. Will you help me?’

‘Help you, your majesty? How?’

Alyssa took Cook’s arm and, with that subtle move, brought her friend into the deception. ‘Sallementro will keep me company.’

The musician pulled a face of resignation, as though he had no choice in the matter.

Alyssa continued. ‘We shall sneak out through the cool room. If anyone asks you if you’ve seen me, please, please, I beg you, tell them you have not sighted me.’

‘Why, my child?’

‘Because I am tired of being fussed over and treated as an invalid. I simply fainted, Cook. I did not even eat an egg. The Under Prime has me under guard now, so I am making a stand and refusing to be subjected to this humiliation. I am Queen. I will walk in the night’s fresh air if that pleases me.’

Her large, grey-green eyes regarded Cook. Who could resist them? It was heartening to see the Queen so high-spirited again, and what mettle. Well, they all knew she had it; she just had not shown it for some time.

‘Of course, my dear. I saw nothing. I’ve been stirring up my flames and preparing to leave my kitchen for the night. If you came past, I did not see you.’

Alyssa kissed her friend on her fat cheek. ‘Thank you, Cook. This means so much to me.’

‘Well, disappear then, you two, before you get caught.’

Cook turned her back on them and gave one last poke at the now merrily burning fire which would keep a huge pot of her vegetable broth simmering through the night. She had no idea through which door the Queen and Sallementro departed but she assumed it must have been that in the cool room, as Alyssa had mentioned.

Once she had noted the arrival of the scullery staff and given directions for the few hours until dawn, she struggled out of her apron, hung it on the same hook where she had hung it for the last forty summers and stretched.

When she finally came out of a huge yawn, she noticed the Under Prime standing in the main doorway.

‘Light strike me, sir! You startled me,’ she said, hand to her heart.

‘Apologies, Cook. You looked like you needed that yawn. I didn’t want to interrupt it.’ He winked, walked over to her and gave her a big squeeze.

She had a terribly soft spot for young Gyl; always had since that freezing morning when they discovered him tied to the palace gates.

‘What’s on?’

‘Vegetable broth as usual, Gyl. Have a bowl.’

‘I will later. It smells as delicious as always.’ He dipped a wooden spoon into the pot and took a taste. ‘Mmmm…the best.’ Then he added, very casually, ‘Cook, you haven’t seen my mother tonight…recently, have you?’

Cook did not even hesitate. She was terribly fond of the son but his mother was her favourite. ‘The Queen? No. I was just heading off to bed now, Gyl.’

‘Oh, well, don’t let me keep you. It’s just that I need to speak to her rather urgently and I can’t find her anywhere in the palace.’

‘Don’t you fret. Your mother always was one who needed quiet time. She’ll be somewhere private, reading or writing.’

‘Hmmm.’ He eyed her. ‘Probably. You head off.’

Cook threw a final glance towards the maid, glad that Nelly had not been around when the Queen had come in. The maid was the worst tittle-tattle in the palace and, like most of the younger women on the staff, was hopelessly besotted with the dashing Under Prime. She would sell her soul for a kiss from him.

‘Keep those flames alive, Nelly, or I’ll skin you in the morning.’

‘Yes, Cook,’ Nelly said, bobbing a curtsy.

As Cook departed she saw Nelly smile, not so shyly, at the soldier. With her back to them both, almost hobbling with fatigue, she blew out her cheeks with relief. That had been close!

Two figures made their way stealthily across one of the many courtyards of the Tal palace. Alyssa knew the routine of the guards well. She had spent many nights chatting to the soldiers in her determination to get to know those who served the King. She had quickly learned their names, their habits and absorbed their regular watch changes, even the route they took on their patrols. Her knowledge enabled her now to plot the precise moment of her and Sallementro’s charge towards the tiny iron gate which would lead them out of the palace grounds. Once through they both leaned back on the stone wall outside, breathing deeply.

Alyssa began to laugh. ‘Sallementro, this is fun.’

He could not help but smile at her delight. ‘I am sure you won’t think so when the King suggests my head be removed from my shoulders for permitting such folly.’

‘Nonsense!’ she said and slapped him with a backhand to his chest. ‘You forget who you are with, musician! Come on.’

Holding hands, they crept up the small mound behind the castle, where she and Saxon often liked to sit and talk privately. Ahead they could make out the dark shape of the clump of trees.

‘Can you see anything?’ Sallementro whispered.

‘No,’ she said, dropping the hood of her cloak. ‘Let’s get closer.’

As she spoke, a tiny light suddenly glowed into life and was immediately extinguished. Someone not paying sufficient attention would never have noticed it. It reminded her of one of the Flames of the Firmament from the Heartwood.

‘There!’ she said, letting go of Sallementro’s hand. She picked up her cloak and began to run towards where she had seen the brief glow.

Sallementro chased after her, suddenly feeling that perhaps this was not such a good idea. He kept hearing Alyssa’s words ‘we are all doomed’ echoing in his head and he felt unnerved. What would he do if this was a trap and someone tried to harm her?

His anxieties were washed away by a flood of relief when a familiar shape emerged from behind one of the trees. There was no doubting that it was the Kloek.

‘Saxon!’ Alyssa called, trying to keep her voice low but betraying her excitement at having him home. She threw herself towards him.

The Kloek had not realised how much he had missed his beautiful Alyssa. He could never think of her as anything but the fragile, almost childlike girl he had taken such delight in lifting from the crowd on that fateful night at Fragglesham. And now here he was, lifting her again with similar delight and enjoying hearing her squeal. The thrill, he knew, would be short-lived but he held that lovely moment while he could.

‘My Queen. Congratulations on your marriage,’ he said with respect, but hugged her hard as one does a loved friend. ‘I am sorry to have left you for so long.’

He felt he ought to bow but she was clinging happily to his neck and he did not want to spoil it.

‘You are fortunate. I shall not have you chopped into pieces, Kloek, because I am hopelessly in love with you, but you shall never desert me like that again,’ she said, hugging him almost as hard in return.

Sallementro arrived. ‘Sax!’

Saxon put Alyssa down gently and bear-hugged the musician.

Sallementro groaned. ‘Mind my fingers, Saxon. I have to play tomorrow.’

The Kloek beamed and inhaled the night air. ‘It is good to be home,’ he said, putting his huge arms around both of them. ‘Come with me,’ he added and pulled them further into the stand of trees.

Alyssa gladly fell in step with him. She felt truly safe now. ‘Saxon, what is all this mystery about? Sallementro almost didn’t let me come to you because he was nervous it was a trap,’ she admonished.

‘He was right to be cautious, your majesty,’ Saxon admitted.

‘Alyssa, when we’re alone like this, if you don’t mind,’ she corrected. ‘So, cough it up. What is this terrible secret that you cannot reveal on palace grounds? You said something about a visitor?’

Saxon became suddenly serious. They were in full cover of the trees now and he felt his stomach flip inside. This was it, the defining moment. How would she react? Was she strong enough to cope with the truth? A dozen other nerve-racking thoughts crossed his troubled mind in the space of those few moments whilst his two friends stared at him. He hesitated a fraction too long and Alyssa’s expression clouded. He saw concern flit across her gorgeous face in the moonlight which filtered through the branches overhead.

‘What is it, Saxon?’ Her smile had faded. She sensed trouble.

Cloot flew in silently and landed on the Kloek’s shoulder. Saxon knew the bird came to offer support. He appreciated it and touched the falcon with thanks. He saw Alyssa’s eyes light with joy again.

‘Cloot! You rescued him?’

Saxon nodded. Words failed him but he knew he would have to find them quickly. He reached up so the falcon could hop onto his arm, which he then held out to the Queen. She kissed Cloot, affection flowing effortlessly from her to Tor’s falcon. ‘Oh, Cloot. You’re safe; you’re alive,’ she wept. ‘Having you here somehow makes me feel like Tor is still with us.’

Saxon felt the hairs on his arms lift at those innocent yet chilling words. He looked over at Sallementro and shook his head sadly at the musician’s questioning expression. Sallementro guessed bad news was coming. He took a deep breath, wondering what Saxon had brought home with him this cool night.

Cloot felt more nervous for Tor, who was hidden in the trees, watching the scene unfold.

Tor spoke to the bird. I can’t do this to her, he said, his voice trembling.

You know that you must. Be brave now, Tor. Alyssa has more spine than you give her credit for. Risk her hate. You have no choice in this matter. Orlac is free—never forget this.

Cloot’s mention of Orlac gave Tor the courage he needed. He recalled how the god had threatened to track down those he loved. Alyssa was one of the main targets. He must reveal himself in order to protect her. He must allow her to hate him to save her. He felt sick.

Lauryn and Gidyon flanked him and he felt their love washing over him across the link.

Don’t be frightened, Lauryn reassured. A woman can never hate someone she truly loves.

Gidyon echoed her sentiments. She will forgive you, Father. Alyssa stepped away from Saxon and looked him in the face. He suddenly seemed very distant. She tried to read his expression: he was nervous. Cloot flapped away and Saxon cleared his throat, but it was Alyssa who spoke for him.

‘Whatever it is, Saxon, the problem will not go away by remaining silent.’

He nodded.

‘Is my father dead?’

‘No, Alyssa. I have not met with your father. That was a ruse.’

She tried to make it easy for him; could see he was genuinely struggling. Sallementro stepped up behind and took her arm but she gently shook herself free. ‘Then is it Goth? Are you afraid to tell me news about him?’

‘I have news on Goth but that is not why I called you out at the dead of night. It was true when I said I have brought someone to see you.’

And then he shocked her by kneeling. He took her hand and kissed it. ‘Forgive me, my Queen, for what I bring back to your life tonight.’

It was a fanciful thing for Saxon to say and a thousand warnings klaxoned in her head. Alarm raced through every part of her. Saxon was afraid. Why? He had brought someone with him but he was so terrified he could not bring himself to say the name.

Go now, Tor, Cloot whispered into his friend’s mind. Our hearts and love walk with you.

Tor told the children to remain hidden until he called them, then he stepped out from behind the tree trunk. A twig snapped underfoot and he watched as the Queen of Tallinor swung around towards the sound.

Alyssa’s mind was racing with possibilities of who the mysterious visitor could be when she heard movement behind her and spun to see who was approaching. She saw the figure of a man who must have been concealed behind the trees. She felt Saxon stand up behind her, felt his arms reach for her, but she stepped forward to avoid them. The shape in the shadows was tall. His silhouette was achingly familiar. She was holding her breath and she wondered why the others were not deafened by the sound of her heart beating. It sounded to her as though its thunderous hammering could reach back to the palace and wake all within.

The man took two steps forward. It was impossible, but he reminded her of someone it just could not be. When he spoke, it confirmed that her mind was playing terrible games with her. Surely she was dreaming? She was in the midst of a horrific nightmare. Why was Saxon feeding it? And why was that man in the shadows talking with Torkyn Gynt’s voice and standing in Torkyn Gynt’s distinctive way?

‘Alyssa…it’s me. It’s Tor,’ the man said.

Tor. She said his name silently in her head.

‘But…but Tor is dead.’ Her breath was suddenly ragged. ‘Saxon, what is this trick you play on me?’ she demanded, her voice quivering.

Saxon was at her side in one stride. ‘It is true, Alyssa. He lives.’

Sallementro had to steady himself by holding onto a tree. He could not believe what he was seeing or hearing.

Tor took another tentative step forward. A couple more and he would be able to reach out and touch her. She was heartbreakingly beautiful, even in the dimmest of the silvery moon’s light. And then he remembered whom he approached. She may be a little wild-eyed and breathing a little too shallowly, her chest moving like a startled sparrow, but she was the Queen of Tallinor. He was compelled to kneel and bow his head. ‘Your majesty.’

His formality snapped her from her state of terror but Alyssa continued to stare in deepest shock at the man she had always loved. She could no longer feel her own body; it was numb. It was truly him: beautiful Torkyn Gynt, the father of her dead son. The man who had torn her apart with love and then died courageously to save her. She had watched those stones break his head open. She had witnessed his blood gush forth and his life spill out with it. She had spent years in despair trying to come to terms with his loss.

And then, out of nowhere, she recalled Merkhud and his strange behaviour on the day of the execution. Those bright grey eyes of his had stared at her for too long, as though wanting to say something important, and yet when he had spoken, all he said was that she should consider Sallementro a friend. And then he had blown her a kiss. Alyssa had thought his behaviour very strange and she remembered how Herek, who had been one of the guards, had commented on the old man’s odd action.

Then an impossible notion hit her; it felt as though a hundred punches had landed in her belly at once. Had the old man won again? Had that conniving old goat somehow stolen Tor from the brink of death?

She turned to look at Saxon, but his head was lowered and he would not meet her eyes. Sallementro, who was clearly not in on this wicked trickery, also stared at the ground.

Alyssa turned back to Tor. He remained kneeling and it seemed he too found the grass more interesting than her.

Grief roared up and threatened to choke the last breath out of her. Pain, anguish, anger—her three old companions—returned with glee.

She found her voice. ‘Stand up!’ she commanded. ‘Stand up and look at me, you betrayer!’

No one moved initially; her order had taken everyone by surprise. Then Tor stood.

‘Look into my eyes,’ she said.

Tor lifted his head. A cluster of tiny flames lit his face; they were never far from his call these days.

So it had been one of the Heartwood flames that she had seen earlier. Alyssa was trembling but she balled her hands into fists to steady herself. Once his face was illuminated by the flames, there was no mistaking who stood before her. Those impossibly blue eyes could belong to no one else but Torkyn Gynt. She could even make out the livid scar which ran across his head, a legacy of the execution stones.

The shock boiled over. Alyssa took one step forward and swung. No one expected it, not even Tor. How she was able to reach so high was anyone’s guess but she hit his jaw so hard that he toppled backwards. And then the Queen began to weep; years of sorrow were loosed in a torrent.

Tor! Someone comes, Cloot called urgently.

Gyl had searched the palace and its grounds with no luck and was now understandably anxious. The Queen was definitely no longer within the palace walls and the castle gates were closed. None of the guards had seen her or Sallementro pass through any of the courtyards. So where was she? He found himself back near the kitchens but outside this time. He felt sure that if she was to steal away, she would use this area to leave from. But why did she need to sneak off at all?

Then he heard a muffled yell coming from the small stand of trees beyond the mount, as the small hill was known. He did not wait for back-up but ran as hard as he could towards the sound. He was the Queen’s champion. If anyone had so much as touched a hair on his mother’s head, the perpetrator would pay on the spot with his life.

Gyl was fast. He pulled his sword, crashed into the small clearing of the trees and was totally arrested by what he found. A tall, dark-haired man was climbing to his feet; he appeared to have been knocked to the ground. Sallementro was standing by him and there was Saxon—damn him all to hell, where had he suddenly arrived from? The Kloek was holding the Queen, who was crying.

‘What in the Light happens here?’ he demanded, his sword immediately at the throat of the dark stranger.

Saxon quickly spoke for all of them. Gyl looked wild enough to kill. ‘Gyl, the Queen is fine. She has received some shocking news and is upset. We need to get her back to the palace.’

Gyl looked from Saxon to Sallementro. There was furtiveness here but he could not see their faces clearly enough to read them properly. He trusted Saxon with his own life and knew his mother did with hers. There was no reason in the world not to trust him now.

‘You!’ he said, pressing his blade against the stranger’s throat. ‘Who are you?’

Tor opened his mouth to speak but it was Alyssa who answered for him. She sounded regal and back in control. ‘Gyl, he is a friend. He brings me news of the past. I expect you to treat him as you would any honoured guest.’

Gyl hesitated a moment but pulled his sword back and sheathed it. He walked over to Alyssa. ‘Are you all right, mother?’

She mustered a smile but her eyes were still watery. ‘I am sorry I hoodwinked you, son.’ She touched his cheek. ‘I just felt you were being overly protective. I am well. Will you escort us back, please?’

She turned back to Tor; her bright tone rang false. ‘Come, old friend, we have things to discuss.’

‘Er, your majesty,’ he responded.

All eyes turned to him.

‘I…I have travelling companions. May I bring them with me?’

Saxon closed his eyes with despair. If they thought that Alyssa meeting Tor again was hard, what was coming next was sure to break her.

‘As you wish. All are welcome,’ she said, a little too lightly, but her voice was steady and she kept her head high. She linked her arm through Gyl’s and moved forward with Sallementro not far behind.

Pull your hoods up, Tor warned his children and they obeyed. They tiptoed from where they were concealed and walked alongside their father and Saxon, following the diminutive figure of their mother, the Queen of Tallinor.

Cloot remained in the copse. He did not envy them all what was yet to come.