The warhorse made easy progress despite his double burden, carrying them with steady strides away from the woods and fields around the town of Lundern. And away from a young man, his boots sunk deep into the Land he loved. Fianna found herself twisting the bracelet, the golden weight new to her wrist. Dragons only knew how such a thing had come into his family. Now she wore it herself, a reminder of his proposal.

I should have given it back to him the moment Arwan appeared, she thought. For one moment all possibilities had narrowed. Then the banner and the knight’s announcement, and her lifetime’s goal was suddenly open before her again. The Dragon Throne might yet be hers. So why did she suddenly recall other summer days, a quiet boy listening to all that she did, and didn’t say?

Because this is new to me, she decided. She deliberately lowered her hand to pat the grey rump behind her. It’s only a hope-promise. I can return it at any time, without explanation or lack of honour. ‘I’ve not seen Arundel since he was still a colt.’

Arwan’s laugh was carried back in the breeze. ‘It was always said of you, my lady, that knights you might not remember, but a horse you never fail to name.’

Fianna gave his steel-encased back a tight lipped smile. ‘The stables and the kennels were always my refuge, Arwan. You have good reason to know that.’

‘Aye.’ His grim answer told her that he remembered well the reasons for her long hours away from the main bustle of court. ‘You are not forgotten, my lady, by the men and women at arms who were befriended by a young princess.’

‘A princess, maybe.’ Her hands tightened on the smooth mail. ‘But, as their queen?’

‘You are the only child of the King,’ he answered, unperturbed. ‘And methinks our knights would welcome following you into battle.’

‘But it’s not up to either knights or nobles.’ She once again cursed the laws of the Fourth Kingdom, recalling her aunt’s long lament. A woman could be knight or merchant or farmer, but she could not sit on the Dragon Throne, not so long as a male heir was available. ‘And what of my step-mother’s child?’

‘The babe is yet unborn.’

‘It could be a boy.’

Without any noticeable difference in the calm, cultured voice, Arwan said, ‘Many babes die in birth. Or soon thereafter.’

For a moment Fianna blinked, not understanding. Then comprehension came swift and, for one horrible moment, she could have acceded to the suggestion. ‘No, Arwan,’ she said unsteadily. ‘I would do many things for the throne, but not that. Not to kill a child.’

‘Methinks the Lady Sallah would have no such hesitation.’

‘Then be glad I’m not her.’ Fianna shivered despite herself. Somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to doubt that her aunt was capable of giving such an order. ‘No one will suggest that course to her. You hear me, Sir Arwan?’

‘I hear you, my lady.’

Soon afterwards they reached a small thicket, a stream running nearby. Fianna swung to the ground, stiff from sitting on the hard cantle of Arwan’s saddle. To her relief, a black mare raised a head from the water at their approach. ‘Well thought,’ Fianna told Arwan appreciatively. ‘I feared we would be riding double all the way to Secondus.’

Arwan laughed. He tethered his horse to a tree, and drew off his steel helm. The dark curls springing free were dusted with grey, a shade Fianna did not remember from the last time they had met, several years ago. ‘I brought more than a steed, my lady. Look into the bags behind her saddle.’

Fianna obeyed, finding inside new tunics and trousers. As Arwan politely turned his back, she traded the plain clothes she had worn for over four years for the silk of noble birth. The colours were mingled greens, blues, and reds, not the colours of her house. She frowned as she rolled up the cloak and attached it to the back of saddle.

Alastair had re-joined them as she changed, and he greeted the black mare. ‘A fine hound,’ Arwan said. ‘I had thought him to belong to the pig herder.’

Fianna smoothed the shorter outer tunic over the inner one. ‘It seems he’s decided to come with us.’

‘As a gift?’

The sharpness of his tone made Fianna snap, ‘And what if he is?’

Arwan risked a glance back. Seeing that she was fully dressed, he turned around. ‘If you are to be queen, you will need a knight of noble blood to sit beside the Dragon Throne.’

‘Yes, I know.’ She felt the bracelet slide beneath the long silk sleeve and changed the subject. ‘The hound is not full bred.’

‘I see that,’ Arwan said. ‘The best ones rarely are. He will protect you, my lady.’

Fianna nodded, flushing slightly that she had needed Arwan’s approval before accepting the dog. She unhooked the mare’s reins from a branch and mounted, suddenly restless. ‘Tell me, Arwan, why you didn’t bring with you the proper colours for my family and rank?’

He removed the banner from his saddle, carefully winding the bright silk around the mast before slipping it into a casing of leather. ‘We ride to Secondus quietly.’

‘Quietly?’ She raised her head, scowling. ‘I left quietly. I had different plans for my return.’

Arwan looked up at her, his blue eyes frank and fearless. ‘You are not yet Queen.’

‘Then why did you come for me?’