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‘Che—’ Thalric started angrily, but she silenced him with a look.

‘They meant . . .’ The patrol leader grimaced unhappily. ‘I’m sure . . .’

‘Take me to Leose. I have committed no crime, nor harmed anybody. I will come of my own free will to see what my sister has done, and to answer for her if I can. But my companions have no part in this, and if you attempt to take them, then . . .’ she almost said, they will fight, but decided a little more drama was necessary, ‘they will kill you.’

She could see that they believed it, the same fear stamped on each face.

‘Che, not again,’ Thalric hissed.

‘I am not being taken prisoner,’ she insisted. ‘I am going of my own free will.’ This was more to save her pride than to reassure him, for he had mocked her about the number of different cells she had seen the inside of, his own included.

I do not want a fight here, though, for the odds are not good, and besides, I do not want to make enemies of Salma’s own family. Surely there must be a sensible solution to this.

‘Trust me,’ she told Thalric, although she felt far from certain herself. She stepped forward, away from the others, a slow and careful movement, aware of the bowstrings loosening and hoping that the Wasps would not see this as an opportunity.

‘Take me to Leose,’ she instructed the patrol. ‘I have my wings, so I can fly at least part of the distance.’

She had half expected to be brought before Salme Elass in her throne room, surrounded by the woman’s court and servants, to give whatever account of her sister’s actions she could. Diplomacy, she told herself, had always been one of her stronger suits – at least she had not been killed for it yet. A more pessimistic prediction anticipated stone walls and bars, and perhaps worse. Neither prediction bore fruit.

When she was brought into the courtyard of Leose, the place was alive with hasty preparations. There were armed men on horseback, inside the gates and outside, and a ragged company of spearmen was being assembled even as she entered. Whatever had happened here at Leose, a great many people now seemed set to leave it. Aside from a handful of servants, everyone she saw was armed and ready for battle, and their faces spoke of bloody murder.

‘My Princess!’ the patrol leader called, and the nearest rider cocked back her helm and glowered down at the new arrivals. In that face, Che could read the same lineage that had produced her friend Salme Dien, and the briefly glimpsed Salme Alain.

‘You have her,’ the woman remarked, neither praising nor condemnatory. Her eyes, resting on Che, were loveless and bleak. ‘Bind her, put her on a horse, bring her along. I’ll speak to her once we have an idea of where the vermin have gone.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘And her companions, too.’

‘She was the only one who surrendered to us.’ The faces of the patrol were united in a conspiracy of omission.

Minutes later, Che was sitting astride a solid, patient beast moving alongside the one being ridden by the patrol leader, who had clearly hoped to be rid of her by now. Whether Che would have ever taken to riding if left to her own devices, she would never know, but having her wrists roped together to the saddle bow only meant constantly wrenching her arms every time she slid sideways. If the column had not been limited to moving at the speed of the foot soldiers, then she would probably have soon broken her neck somewhere along the way. As it was the progress was merely painful and difficult rather than fatal.

At last, with the dawn light appearing in the east, they stopped, but nobody dismounted. Che sagged against her restraints, feeling more exhausted than if she had been forced to walk the whole distance. She could see woodland ahead, and wondered if there was fear of an ambush, but shortly she spotted a scattering of figures winging their way over. One of them was clearly not Dragonfly-kinden, and she recognized him long before he landed.

‘Gaved,’ she greeted him, and he started in surprise just