rage. She stopped walking and looked up, glancing around.
Across the ward by the main gate, two men had faced off. Their white shirts, embroidered with a grey dagger down the sleeves, marked them as silver daggers, members of the prince’s personal guard. They were both of them blond and burly, but one was a good head taller than the other – Branoic, she realized, and facing him Owaen, captain of the troop, pacing back and forth and shouting so angrily that his words made no sense.
‘Maddo, what’s that all about?’ Bellyra said.
‘Oh ye gods!’ Maddyn said. ‘I don’t know, my lady, but I’d best attend to it.’
‘By all means. Let’s go over. If I’m there Owaen will have to stop screaming like that.’
‘Truly, and my thanks.’
Indeed the royal presence did bring Owaen to his senses. He fell silent and bowed to the princess, but he trembled all over, and his face had gone dead-white. Branoic was smiling, Bellyra suddenly realized, a wicked tight curve of his mouth, as if he were enjoying each and every moment of Owaen’s rage.
‘Your highness.’ Branoic bowed low. ‘Your husband has given me a splendid boon, and I’ll thank you for it as well. I know you must have spoken with him about bestowing land upon me.’
‘I did, and you’re most welcome.’ She turned to Owaen with as pleasant a smile as she could muster. ‘But what’s so wrong, captain?’
‘Forgive me, your highness, but is your husband going to make him a lord as well.’
‘Of course.’
‘But the blazon – forgive me – you wouldn’t understand, your highness.’
‘Oh ye gods!’ Maddyn broke in. ‘He didn’t give Branno the eagles back?’
‘He did.’ Owaen could barely force the words out. ‘Just that.’
Branoic tossed back his head and howled with laughter. With one smooth curve of his body Owaen turned and hit him so hard in the stomach that Branoic doubled over. Maddyn grabbed Owaen’s arm, but he could hold him for only a brief moment – just long enough for Branoic to get his wind back.
‘You bastard!’ Branoic snarled.
Owaen shook Maddyn off and charged. Branoic met him with the slap of one huge hand, then swung on him with the other. Screaming curses Owaen grabbed his shirt with both hands and shook him like a rat whilst Branoic pounded on his enemy’s back. For a moment they swayed back and forth like drunken men; then Owaen tripped, and they both fell. Clasped in each other’s arms they rolled around on the cobbles while they swore and kicked and punched each other. All Maddyn could do was dance around them and try to make himself heard.
‘Stop it!’ Maddyn was screaming. ‘Not in front of the princess! You cursed hounds, stop it!’
‘Here!’ It was Nevyn, running with all the speed and grace of a young man. ‘What – by Lord of Hell!’
Nevyn flung up one hand, then snapped it down with the gesture of a man throwing dice. Silvery-blue flames shot from his fingers and struck the cobbles with a crack like thunder and a burst of light. With a yelp the two wrestlers broke their holds and rolled a little way apart. Owaen sat up, rubbing his right eye which was swelling shut. Maddyn darted forward and grabbed Branoic to keep him off his prey, but Branoic made no objection. He sat up, rested briefly, then got up and stood rubbing his bloody, bruised knuckles while he panted for breath. Owaen scrambled up after him. Dirt and muck smeared their white shirts and the rest of them as well.
‘There,’ Nevyn said mildly. ‘That’s better. Now what’s all this?’
‘Prince Maryn gave Branoic his grant of land and letters patent today,’ Maddyn said. ‘He gave Branoic the right to use eagles for his blazon.’
‘And?’ Nevyn said. ‘Oh wait. The feud. Ye gods, lads! When did it start? Over ten years ago at least!’
Branoic nodded, staring at the ground. Owaen started to speak, then suddenly turned to Bellyra and knelt. Blood ran down his cheeks. His face was so pale that it reminded her of a fish’s belly.
‘My apologies, your highness,’ Owaen stammered. ‘For losing my temper like this in front of you. I meant no insult. Ye gods, can you find it in your heart to forgive me?’
If she didn’t, Bellyra realized, Prince Maryn would have him flogged.
‘Of course I forgive you,’ she said hastily. ‘Do get up, Owaen! Branoic, I forgive you too. But I’d much prefer to never see such again.’
‘My lady is too generous.’ Branoic ducked his head in her direction. ‘I’ll do my best not to shame myself in front of her again.’
‘Good. Don’t. And now you owe me an explanation. What eagles?’
‘It was my father’s blazon, your highness,’ Branoic said. ‘Not that I was ever a legitimate son of his. But when I joined the silver daggers, Owaen had me take it off my gear. It looked like his mark, says he – that falcon he puts on everything he owns.’
Owaen crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at the cobbles.
‘And now my husband’s given you an eagle blazon?’ Bellyra thought for a moment. ‘Well, make them a different colour. That’s what the heralds did with the wyvern device, isn’t it? The usurper’s clan used green for theirs, and so we took the same wyvern but made it red.’
‘My lady is as clever as she is beautiful.’ Nevyn said. ‘Branoic?’
‘A wise thought, your highness, and do it I will. Here. Owaen’s falcon is red. What if I have a silver eagle? And I can have the heralds turn its head in the opposite direction, too.’
‘Owaen?’ Nevyn turned to the captain.
‘That will suit, my lord.’ Owaen looked up at last. ‘My apologies to you again, your highness.’
Bellyra collected her pages with a wave and turned to go. In the doorway to the main broch Lilli stood shading her eyes with one hand while she watched the scene in the ward. Yet when she saw Bellyra looking her way, she spun around and ran, disappearing into the shadows inside. Poor child! the princess thought. She’s still terrified of me, and here I would have liked her so much if only she weren’t Maryn’s mistress.
‘You’ve both had a silver dagger’s luck,’ Maddyn said. ‘The prince could have had you both flogged for this, fighting out in the ward like a pair of drunken bondmen.’
‘True-spoken,’ Owaen mumbled. He was gingerly exploring his injured eye with dirty fingers. ‘I didn’t know the princess would be right there.’
‘You might have looked.’ Maddyn turned to Branoic. ‘You, too.’
Branoic shrugged and refused to look at him.
‘Owaen?’ Nevyn put in. ‘You’d better stop poking at that eye. Let the chirurgeon look at it. Tell him I said to make you up a poultice to draw the swelling off.’
‘I will.’ Owaen hesitated,
