‘Then … step again.’
‘Ah, I see. It seems, after all, that at least one man must surrender.’
‘It is—’
‘The honourable thing,’ Draconus finished, nodding, and then looking away once more.
She’ll not forgive you, Draconus. Do not agree to this. I understand you. I have found the love of which you speak, the love that holds and has held you for all this time. Silchas would make honour its enemy, its slayer. He drew breath to speak.
But Draconus said, ‘You spoke of my Houseblades.’
‘As I rode in, sir, their standards were sighted from the north tower. They are upon the forest road, in column.’
‘Ah.’
‘My brother Anomander is with them.’
Kellaras started, facing Silchas Ruin.
‘Yet,’ said Draconus, ‘you still claim command.’
‘You well know his dilemma,’ Silchas said harshly. ‘She forbids him unsheathing his sword!’
‘It is your belief then, sir, that he will not break that covenant?’
‘He is the First Son of Darkness!’
A faint, sad smile creased the hard features of the Consort, and still he kept his gaze averted. ‘As you say. I imagine you know your brother’s mind in this. Very well. But I will have my Houseblades.’ He swung his head and fixed Silchas with a lifeless stare. ‘In my exile.’
The heartbreak burgeoning in Kellaras’s chest was fierce enough to steal his breath.
Silchas Ruin had the decency to bow. Or, perhaps, it was unintentional irony. If anything else, Kellaras would never forgive him. ‘Lord Draconus, will you accompany us, then?’
‘In a moment. The door is directly behind you. Await me in the corridor beyond.’
‘You will make your farewell to her?’
The question seemed to strike Draconus like a slap across the face. What had been lifeless in his eyes suddenly flared, if for but an instant. ‘Silchas,’ he said in a low voice, ‘have you lost your mind?’
As the commander hovered, as if uncomprehending of the wound he had driven into Draconus, Kellaras stepped forward and took Silchas by one arm. ‘Now, sir.’
He very nearly dragged Silchas back to the door. Fumbling, he somehow found the latch. The doorway spilled in a bloom of light that hurt his eyes, and then he pulled Silchas through. At the last moment, before he closed the door once more, Kellaras looked back at Draconus.
The Consort stood watching, a man bereft of love, who had just felt the cold kiss of honour upon his lips. The only man present who understood courage.
It was a sight Kellaras would never forget.
When they were gone, Draconus gestured wearily with one hand, and a moment later Grizzin Farl appeared from the darkness.
The Azathanai stepped close and laid a hand upon the Consort’s shoulder. ‘Forgive me, Draconus. I could not protect your love.’
‘You never could. Nor, it seems, can I.’
‘I did not know,’ sighed Grizzin, ‘that love could die so many deaths.’
Draconus grunted. ‘It has enemies beyond count, my friend. Beyond count.’
‘Why is that, I wonder?’