King’s Wrath. Fiona McIntosh

not stand by and watch it stolen from you. My father would turn in his tomb … if he had one.’ His voice was so deeply tinged with sorrow that Ravan stepped forward, his hand held out.

      ‘Forgive us, my lord, for putting you in this position. We felt it was important that the king know about Piven but …’

      ‘You did the right thing. Now we are forewarned. So flee. He sleeps now but should he awake I will slow him down.’

      Roddy grinned and hugged Gavriel, surprising the Legate. ‘Thank you, my lord. Thank you. And don’t worry about us. You couldn’t catch us even if you wanted to.’

      Gavriel, still crookedly smiling from the youngster’s affection, gave a bemused frown. ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘Watch,’ Roddy whispered and clambered onto Ravan’s back.

      Ravan nodded at Gavriel and some unspoken message travelled between them — a mixture of respect and thanks, with a promise to meet again.

      ‘I will look out for you, my lord. You have my loyalty, even if King Leonel does not.’ He took one quick step, then another, and then they were gone.

      Elka had found a deep ditch, a hollow that an old stream had cut into over many anni, before Francham had redirected water as the town had grown.

      ‘Here?’ he had asked, unable to mask his surprise.

      ‘No one will see you.’

      ‘And you trust me?’

      ‘If I take you into Francham and you’re recognised, we’re in instant trouble.’

      ‘Oh I agree, and you’re so inconspicuous of course.’ It was not said unkindly — in fact, it sounded almost affectionate. He was charming her! What a rogue. Even so, he didn’t have to try hard. He was good company; she appreciated his sharp intelligence and had grown to understand that he had a grasp of fair play as well as a sense of nobility about him, which was attractive. She really couldn’t help liking the man, which surprised her; when she had argued to save his life she had definitely not expected to enjoy him.

      In fact, since they’d fled the camp, she’d begun to accept that the people who were so embracing of the emperor were not wrong about Loethar. Yes, he came from the Steppes and had brutally wrested rule from the rightful kings of the realms. And yes, his methods had been savage. But the fact that he’d stopped all animosity as soon as he believed he had control had impressed her. The ugly overthrow had, by all accounts filtering back into the mountains, been stupendously balanced by the last decade of dignified rule.

      ‘Here’s my problem, Loethar,’ she had said as they struggled to slowly descend into Francham via difficult terrain, far from what she believed might be an area that Faris’s people would scour. ‘Everything I’ve come to believe about you is suddenly challenged.’

      He had not replied immediately, his silence compelling her to explain her remark.

      ‘As you know we Davarigons keep to ourselves but news obviously finds its way through. Initially we heard such terrible stories that you became almost larger than life itself.’

      ‘The rampaging monster from the east who eats babies,’ he finished for her.

      ‘No, who eats kings!’

      He had had the grace not to smile but she sensed he wanted to. ‘The stories were true.’

      ‘What was in your head? The person I accompany now does not match up with that madman. I walk with a sane, insightful …’

      ‘Handsome?’ he offered.

      She ignored the comment. ‘I was going to say calm individual, who shows no sign of the cruelty he was famed for.’

      He nodded. ‘The notion of imbibing the magic by drinking the blood of the Valisar king and eating his flesh had haunted me since childhood, since my mother had first whispered the truth of my lineage.’

      ‘What in Lo’s name would possess her to do that?’

      ‘Anger. She was a woman used and scorned by King Darros. She raised me to have a burning hate for the Valisars. She insisted I was not a Steppes child. She said I looked different, I was royal, I was from the west. Over and over she taught me that one day I would fight to rule my people, that I would lead an army towards the sunset and take revenge against the throne that ignored my existence.’

      ‘And you think King Brennus knew about you?’

      ‘I know he knew,’ Loethar had growled. ‘If he’d only tried to reach out to me, recognise me, I think we might have behaved as brothers and I would have accepted that it was no fault of his that he wore the crown of Penraven.’

      ‘Why didn’t you extend that generosity to Leo? It is not his fault that he is the son of Brennus, born a prince and raised to be king.’

      Loethar had regarded her with a rueful gaze. ‘Because I was a man obsessed ten anni ago. I wanted to punish Penraven for ignoring me. I wanted all the Set to know that it was Penraven’s arrogance that had brought such destruction to their lands.’

      ‘And now you feel differently?’

      He had sighed. ‘The obsession has passed. Now I’m more than just an angry, headstrong leader; I’ve become a good ruler with the respect of the people of this empire. I can make our empire the most powerful region of our world.’

      ‘And Leo cannot?’

      ‘Leo is where I was ten anni ago. He’s angry, confused, capable of trying anything to get his hands on that crown because he believes it is his right. That’s how I felt. Except in contrast to me Leo is still a very young man and his youth makes his outlook even more narrow, even more desperate than mine was. I’d already ruled a nation. Leo has been answerable to Faris for all this time.’

      ‘Not any more, I’d guess.’

      ‘You’re probably right.’ Loethar had paused, and then said, ‘You know, Faris has been my nemesis for this last decade. He hasn’t been able to outwit me for so long by being a dolt. He’s cunning, wise, patient … I have no doubt that it’s because of him that Leo has had the time to grow up and feel safe, begin to believe in himself as a king. Faris has given him a great gift.’

      ‘And now Leo wants to take Faris’s life.’

      ‘So do I.’

      ‘You know I won’t permit you to trammel anyone.’

      ‘Not yet.’

      ‘Never.’

      ‘Never say never, Elka. Who knows what decisions lie ahead?’ he had said, and smiled at her without guile. She had sensed sadness behind his charm, though, as if he knew something she didn’t.

      So, having left Loethar in hiding, she now found herself entering Francham. It was still early and Francham tended to be busiest by night. The smell of baking bread was fresh in the air, though, and too seductive to resist. She followed her nose to the baker, who turned at her early entrance into his shop, just hauling a steaming loaf from his oven.

      ‘Lo, but that smells good,’ she said, smiling.

      ‘Stars save me, woman, but you’re big,’ he commented. ‘I nearly dropped the damn bread.’

      Elka didn’t take offence. ‘Let me buy it then, if it has my name on it.’

      He grinned, reaching for a cloth to wipe at his damp forehead, leaving a trail through the flour that had gathered in a light dusting across his face. Nearby his wife and a youth, perhaps his son, were banging and kneading dough. Behind them she could see two neat rows of small loaves, uniform in size and appearance.

      ‘I won’t give you this one. It’s too hot and you look like you might want to eat it straight away.’

      ‘You’re right. You’d better give me another small loaf too for later.’ She dug in her pocket for a