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gilded hall, the Princess of the Picts. So fair of face but with the dark hair and the dark eyes that belonged to night, to the hours full of
wiccecrceft
and the private secret shadow world that only lovers shared.
    It had been there for all to see, how beautiful she was, that she was formed for love. That had dazzled him. But what had fastened claws in his heart was that which had been hidden. What he only believed he had seen. Her fear of her fate, her desperate, hopeless wish to be free of it. Her apparent loathing for her betrothed.
    The other thing that had undone him was the fact that he had known just what a tainted and vicious force Hun was. And he could not bear the thought of a woman like her being at the mercy of that. So he had— He closed his mind against what he had done.
    The only reflections in the water were of his brother's mangled flesh. His brother, Wulf, who had sur-vived because of the strength of his will. It had been the mysterious power of the water that had led him back to Wulf . He had believed that Wulf was dead.
    He had believed the same of Alina.
    He plunged his face into the sharpness of liquid ice, breaking the images that held him like a spell. The merciless cold struck his skin, ran down his neck, streamed off his hair, soaking through the shoulders of his tunic. He opened his eyes.
    He had made his decisions and nothing called back the past. The only thing that could be changed was what would come.
    It would not be the bloody destruction of another royal feud. It would not be the wanton cruelty that had ravaged his home and his country under Osred's reign. People would not be killed and dispossessed and driven into helpless exile again.
    He watched the moving water.
    There were some things that could not be redeemed, and there were some things that could. There would be no more undeserving deaths.
    Not even for the powerless Pictish hostage in Bamburgh, Alina's brother. Alina who— He moved, balancing himself on his aching left arm, unprepared for the force of the pain that shot through it. But it meant that his right hand was free for the
seax
. It would be much quicker than the sword.
    The now familiar stealthy sound came again, but from the opposite direction this time. Behind and to the left.
    He turned.
    The knife, single-bladed, twelve inches long, deadly, embedded itself harmlessly in a tree.
    "What," he bellowed, in a voice that would have split the heavens open, "are you doing here?"
    There was a small space of silence.
    "Dodging knives?" offered the phoenix of the ashes. "What about you?" Her shoulders were hunched into a thin, stiff line but her gaze met his, straight, like someone who had the right. "Why did you miss your aim?"
    "What makes you think I did?" he yelled. "I could have split your heart in two at that distance."
    "So you could."
    Alina's eyes with their well-remembered matchless pride gave nothing, but he could sense the small waves of shock and fright inside her. His empty hand clenched. If he had not seen until a second later that it was her… She knew what the consequences would have been. It was there in every tightly held line of her body. But she said no more, did not so much as move.
    He had seen the proof of her courage long ago, strong and high-hearted. Reckless, just like his. They should have been two of a kind.
    But what she had used it for in the end… How had she managed to come here after him? Why had she appeared behind him, so silently out of the tree shadows?
    She watched him, her head tilted back, her eyes unwavering.
    "My guards let me come," she said, as though she could read exactly what was inside his head. "It was Cunan who argued. He… How shall I put this? He does not quite trust you. But there was not much he could say, in the end. I am both his sister and his princess. If he wanted to maintain the value of my rank before all you Northumbrians, he could not stop me. The other one merely grunted. That seems to be the full extent of his