There was a window to the sky at the far end of the building, but when she went to it, she saw no stars. A cloudy night. She turned back down the long row of horses and stopped again before Small, smiling at his sleeping posture.

She eased the door open and sidled her way into his stall. She would sit with him for a while as he slept, and hum herself to tiredness. Even Archer couldn't object. No one would find her; curled up as she was against Small's doorway, no one who came into the stables would even see her. And if Small awoke, it would not surprise him to find his lady crooning at his feet. Small was accustomed to her night-time behaviour.

She settled herself down and breathed a song about a leaning horse.

Small nudged her awake, and she knew instantly that she was not alone. She heard a male voice, baritone, very quiet, very near.

"I fight these looters and smugglers because they oppose the king's rule. But what right to rule do we have, really?"

"You frighten me when you talk like this." Roen. Fire pushed herself against Small's door.

"What has the king done in thirty years to deserve allegiance?"

"Brigan – "

"I understand the motivations of some of my enemies better than I understand my own."

"Brigan, this is your fatigue speaking. Your brother is fair-minded, you know that, and with your influence he does good."

"He has some of Father's tendencies."

"Well, what will you do? Let the raiders and smugglers have their way? Leave the kingdom to Lord Mydogg and his thug of a sister? Or Lord Gentian? Preserving Nash's kingship is the best hope for the Dells. And if you break with him you'll start a civil war four ways. You, Nash, Mydogg, Gentian. I fear to think who would come out on top. Not you, with the allegiance of the King's Army split between yourself and your brother."

This was a conversation Fire should not be hearing, not under any circumstances, not in any world. She understood this now; but there was no helping it, for to reveal her presence would be disastrous. She didn't move, barely breathed. And listened hard despite herself, because doubt in the heart of the king's commander was an astonishing thing.

Mildly now, and with a tone of concession: "Mother, you go too far. I could never break with my brother, you know that. And you know I don't want the kingship."

"This again, and it's no comfort to me. If Nash is killed, you'll have to be king."

"The twins are older than I."

"You're being deliberately obtuse tonight. Garan is ill, Clara is female, and both of them are illegitimate. The Dells will not get through this time without a king who is kingly."

"I'm not kingly."

"Twenty-two years old, commanding the King's Army as well as Brocker did? Your soldiers would fall on their own swords for you. You are kingly."

"All right. But rocks, Mother, I hope I'll never be called king."

"You once hoped you'd never be a soldier."

"Don't remind me." His voice was tired. "My life is an apology for the life of my father."

A long silence. Fire sat unbreathing. A life that was an apology for the life of his father: it was a notion she could understand, beyond words and thought. She understood it the way she understood music.

Small stirred and poked his head out of his stall to examine the low-voiced visitors. "Just tell me you'll do your duty, Brigandell," Roen said, her use of Brigan's royal name deliberate.

A shift in his voice. He was laughing under his breath. "I've become such an impressive warrior that you think I run around the mountains sticking swords into people because I enjoy it."

"When you talk like this, you can't blame me for worrying."

"I'll do my duty, Mother, as I have done every day."

"You and Nash will make the Dells into something worth defending. You'll re-establish the order and the justice that Nax and Cansrel destroyed with their carelessness."

Suddenly, and with no humour in his voice: "I don't like this monster."

Roen's voice softened. "Nashdell is not Naxdell, and Fire is not her father."

"No, she's worse; she's female. She's a thing I can't see Nash resisting."

Firmly: "Brigan. Fire has no interest in Nash. She does not seduce men and ensnare them."

"I hope you're right, Mother, because I don't care how highly you think of her. If she's like Cansrel I'll snap her neck."

Fire pushed herself into the corner. She was accustomed to hatred. But still it was a thing that made her cold and tired every time. She was tired thinking of the defences she would have to build against this man.

And then above her, an incongruous thing. Brigan reached a hand to the muzzle of her horse. "Poor fellow," he said, stroking Small's nose. "We woke you. Go back to sleep."

"It's her horse," Roen said. "The horse of the monster you threaten."

"Ah well. You're a beauty," Brigan said to Small, his voice light. "And your owner is not your fault."

Small nuzzled the hand of his new friend. And when Roen and Brigan left, Fire was gripping her skirts in both fists, swallowing an infuriating fondness that she could not reconcile.

At least if he decided to hurt her, she could trust him not to hurt her horse.

This long night was not over, for apparently no one in the royal family slept. Fire had just crossed the courtyard again and slipped into the corridors of the sleeping quarters when she met the prowling king, handsome and fierce in the light of the torches. His eyes glazed over when he saw her. She thought she smelled wine on his breath. When he came at her suddenly, flattened her against the wall, and tried to kiss her, she no longer had any doubt.

He had surprised her, but the wine addling his brains made her work easy. You don't want to kiss me.

Nash stopped trying to kiss her but continued to press himself against her, groping her breasts and her back. Hurting her arm. "I'm in love with you," he said, breathing sour air into her face. "I want to marry you."

You don't want to marry me. You don't even want to touch me. You want to release me.

Nash stepped back from her and she pushed herself away, gulping fresh air, smoothing her clothing. She turned to make her escape.

Then she swung back at him and did a thing she never did. Apologise to me, she thought to him fiercely. I've had enough of this. Apologise.

Instantly the king kneeled at her feet, gracious, gentlemanly, black eyes swimming with penitence. "Forgive me, Lady, for my insult to your person. Go safely to your bed."

She hurried away before anyone saw the absurd spectacle of the king on his knees before her. She was ashamed of herself. And newly anxious for the state of the Dells, now that she'd made the acquaintance of its king.

She was almost to her room when Brigan loomed out of the shadows, and this time Fire was at her wit's end.

She didn't even need to reach for his mind to know that it was closed to her control, a walled fortress with not a single crack. Against Brigan she had nothing but her small strength, and words.

He pushed her against the wall as Nash had done. He took both her wrists in one hand and yanked her arms above her head, so roughly that water sprang to her eyes from the pain of her injured arm. He crushed her with his body so she could not move. His face was a snarling mask of hatred.

"Show the slightest interest in befriending the king," he said, "and I will kill you."

His superior display of strength was humiliating, and he was hurting her more even than he knew. She had no breath for speech. How like your brother you are, she thought hotly into his face. Only less romantic.

His grip on her wrists tightened. "Lying monster-eater."