He gave a smile that was more grimace than grin. 'I suppose you wouldn't remember, but I used to be a page. I always knew I wanted to join the Greatcoats and I used to follow King Paelis around asking questions about the law all the time, hoping he'd let me join the order. Then he'd get annoyed and threaten to have my tongue cut out for him to wear as a necklace. I said that would make me the King's Tongue and then he'd have to make me a Greatcoat.'

'That's a nice story,' I said, 'but you're lying.'

'True, but I'm in a lot of pain, so it's possible that I forgot the real reason.'

The sound of a scream made us both turn.

The healer was pressing a red cloth against the assassin's chest. 'I can't save him,' she said. 'The sword went through his lung. Saints know why his heart's still beating.'

I glanced at Mateo. 'You should have hit him in the stomach. He'd have lasted longer that way.'

'I was aiming for his stomach, but you had Brasti-fucking-Goodbow shoot me in the shoulder. Bastard managed to hit the exact spot where the bone plates in my coat were broken from a spear last year. So I'm sorry if my aim was off, but kindly go fuck yourself, First Cantor.'

'Sorry,' I said, and actually meant it. If only I'd recognised him sooner, this might have gone differently. 'How did he even get so close to Aline?' I wondered aloud.

'Apparently whenever a new Greatcoat arrives, she and Valiana insist on greeting them personally,' Mateo replied. 'I got here yesterday and the Realm's Protector asked that I stay close by. This fellow,' he said, kicking the assassin's foot, 'arrived a couple of days before me. Said his name was Harden something.'

'Harden Venire, but that's not him. Harden is dead.'

The healer called to me, 'I've got this man as stable as I can make him. Not sure what's been keeping him going but it won't last. He's got minutes, no more.'

I went to walk over, and nearly passed out when I put all my weight on my ankle. Now that the immediate danger had been dealt with, my body was obviously intending to have a few words with me.

'Here, sir, I found this for you.' I turned to see a guardsman holding out a walking stick. 'If you hand me your rapiers I can hold onto them for you.'

'I'm fine,' I said, taking the cane from him, but I'd barely taken a step before the damned thing got caught up in my scabbard and nearly sent me flying. 'Hells, take it,' I said, unbelting the damned thing.

'That's the wrong side, sir; the doctor said you should use the stick on the opposite side to the injured leg.'

'Hells, fine.' I handed him the other one and walked gingerly over to the assassin. Whilst I'd been fumbling about, Valiana had got there first.

'Give me the name of the man who sent you,' she said. The rage, barely contained in her voice, was enough to make me hold my breath.

The assassin tried to speak, but all I heard was the gurgling of his throat as his body struggled to hang onto what life remained in him. 'Who sent you?' Valiana repeated, kneeling down beside him.

'I am a Needle of the Gods. It is their will that commands me.'

'I already met one of your Needles,' I said. 'She didn't impress me, either. Who sent you? Why now? How many others are there besides you?'

'Everyone,' he rasped, blood bubbling up from his mouth. 'The whole world is commanded to see the girl dead and you destroyed by despair.'

The gurgling got worse for a moment and I feared he could no longer speak, but he opened his mouth and I realised he was laughing.

'Give me a name,' Valiana said. 'Give me a name and we can ease your suffering.'

'You . . .' His eyes focused on her. 'You are the little bitch who calls herself the Realm's Protector, aren't you? You have come to me, just as the God said you would.'

'Then name your God,' she said. 'Or is he so full of fear he hides even his name behind the man he sent to kill a child?'

'There is only one God,' the assassin said. 'Let me give you his true name.' He opened his mouth wider and I thought he was trying to speak, but instead he stuck his tongue out and bit down hard on it. Blood gushed from the wound, though it was not enough to make a difference to a man already dying.

Valiana turned to me. 'Why would he-?'

The assassin's head shot up and as Valiana turned back to see what he was doing, his mouth was on hers. She pulled away instantly, a look of utter revulsion on her face as blood from the man's tongue dripped down her mouth. I dropped down to my knees and drove my fist into his face, though the force of my blow caused more pain to my knuckles than I suspected it did to him.

He laughed, the sickening, distorted sound coming out in guttural exhalations.

I punched him a second time, then a third, all the while repeating my questions, over and over, shouting at him, 'Speak, damn you to all the hells! Who sent you? Who is your God?' but all he gave in return was more blood and spit and laughter.

When this didn't work I leaned in to him and whispered, 'I don't care if you do think the Gods sent you, you bastard. There are seven hells for those who would kill children and I will make sure that you find yourself in the worst of them.'

The assassin let out one last, long breath, all that his torn lungs and slowing heart could provide. The air leaving his body came out as a sigh of satisfaction, the whisper of a man answering a lover's kiss.

The gurgling stopped, though blood still seeped from his mouth. I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see Valiana wiping the sickening red smear from her face. Despite the horror we had just witnessed, she spoke gently and clearly. 'Come, First Cantor. His filthy work is finished. Ours is just beginning.'

I stood up and spared one last look for the assassin. He was as ordinary a man as any young, maybe Mateo's age, with fine facial hair on smooth, barely tanned skin. He didn't look as if he'd ever so much as done a hard day's work, never mind trained to be a killer.

'Falcio,' Valiana repeated, pulling at me. 'We need to go.'

But I stayed where I was, paralysed by the figure laying at my feet. The expression on the assassin's face, with the blood still leaking from his mouth and the last light gone from his eyes, was the most peaceful and contented I had ever seen.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN.

The Bedroom

It took me an hour to free myself from the guards and noblemen and every other Saints-cursed bastard demanding to know what had just happened, and were they safe?

'The Dukes will want a report,' Valiana told me as we walked along the upstairs hall towards Aline's rooms.

'The hells for the Dukes,' I said. My ankle was screaming every time I stepped on it. A lifetime practising with swords and yet somehow walking with a stick escapes you.

'I'll take care of the report.' Valiana's voice was flat, tired, resigned.

I let my steps slow to a halt. 'No, I'm sorry. I should do it. I'm just a little . . .'

'Used up?' she offered, giving me a weary smile too weary for a young woman of twenty. 'It's becoming a common affliction. You should see poor Pastien when he doesn't have to put on his brave face for the court.'

There was very little I cared about less than the wellbeing of the young Ducal Protector of Luth, but I wasn't entirely stupid; Valiana obviously wanted me to ask.

'So what's he like?'

There was a note of affection in her voice when she answered, 'Pastien is . . . well, he's very decent, I think. He keeps trying to find ways to keep the Duchy stable until a new Ducal line is selected, but he's young and out of his depth.'

That almost made me laugh. 'You're younger than him.'

'True, but I suppose I . . .' She hesitated, looking for the right words. 'In some ways living with Patriana taught me a great many things that are helping me to do this job. Pastien doesn't have that experience and he's surrounded by some of the most avaricious noblemen I've ever met.'

'Can he hold the Duchy together?'

'Not as things stand. He's under pressure to grant more autonomy to the Margraves and Viscounts over their respective lands.' She gestured towards one of the windows that faced the courtyard. 'More and more pilgrims are showing up every day and Pastien doesn't have nearly enough troops to protect the palace. I sent for a hundred Aramor soldiers to help bolster his own guardsmen.'

'A hundred? You realise we have precious few of our own?'

'I know that, Falcio.' All the weariness returned to Valiana's voice. 'But unless we can stabilise the smaller Duchies like Luth, the rest of the country will never be governable.' She put a hand on my arm. 'We have to give Aline a strong throne, Falcio. Without that . . .'

She let the words hang there for a while. I wished I had something to say that might comfort her, but my thoughts were filled with visions of crazed religious zealots who didn't even have the decency to die when you stuck a blade through their hearts. Weighed down by our respective concerns, we started walking again, and soon reached the door to Aline's bedroom. Kest was waiting outside, with Tommer in his black leather greatcoat standing next to him. He was holding a shortsword in his two hands, point to the ground.

'What is he doing here?' I asked Kest.

The dispassionate shrug I got in reply managed to eloquently convey both that Kest had had no say in the matter of Tommer's presence and that I should leave it be.

'I should have been there to protect her, First Cantor,' Tommer said, his voice still a little high-pitched for such earnest declarations.

'You're not a-' I was about to say, 'You're not a Greatcoat', but then I remembered how the boy had stood in front of the nobleman who'd tried to stop me in the throne room, how he'd stood between Aline and the Knights in black tabards when they'd come to kill her the year before, how he'd stood up for justice in Rijou. 'Just make sure Kest doesn't fall asleep on the job,' I said finally.

The boy nodded very seriously.

'How is Aline?' I asked Kest.

'Ethalia's taking care of her,' he said, which wasn't much of a reply to my actual question. Kest isn't much use when it comes to discussions of feelings so he shifted to something more practical. 'A number of nobles, including two members of the Ducal Council, have demanded to see the heir. I sent them away, but I suspect they might return. If they do, should I-?'

'If anyone you don't trust with your own life tries to walk through that door, Kest, teach them the first rule of the sword.'

'Well, about that . . .' He paused and glanced at Valiana.

'I haven't told him,' she said.

'Haven't told me what?' I asked, and when neither of them spoke, said firmly, 'I may only be carrying a stick but I swear I'll see the next person to give me a vague half-answer in the duelling court.'

Valiana took a deep breath. 'The Tailor is here, Falcio.' She cut me off before I could begin to reply. 'We needed her. With everything that's been going on, we had to have someone who knows about the more esoteric aspects of the country's history. I decided to have her brought to Luth.'

I'm not sure what was on my face but it was enough to make both Tommer and Kest flinch. Valiana held her ground. 'Say what you want to say, First Cantor.'

I wasn't even sure where to begin. 'You decided to bring the Tailor here? Did you happen to forget that she's a convicted-?'

'No longer. The Ducal Council issued a pardon for her.'

'Why in the name of Saint Zaghev-who-sings-for-tears would those bloody fools give her a pardon? Do they like it when people try to have them killed? Because I'd be more than willing to grant them their wish at this point!'

Somewhere around the middle of my little speech my voice had turned into a bellow that was reverberating throughout the hallway. The door to Aline's room opened and Ethalia stepped out, looking stronger than she had on the road. I hoped that meant that the Saint's Fever had passed for now.

'Lady Ethalia,' Valiana began, 'if you could persuade Falcio to calm down, I would-'

'Realm's Protector,' Ethalia interrupted, her voice quiet but carrying an edge, 'rest assured that if there were one person in this world who would induce me to violence, it is the woman currently sitting at Aline's bedside.' She turned back to me. 'But we are where we are right now, and you, Falcio, need to get yourself under control before I let you go into that room.'

Before I let you go into that room? 'I'm perfectly controlled,' I said, trying to control myself.

Ethalia reached out and took my wrists. She winced, as if holding plates left too long in the oven. 'Look at your hands, Falcio: they're still shaking. And don't pretend it's just nerves. You're scared and you're frustrated and you're so full of rage you can't even feel it any more.'

'I'm fine,' I said, and tried to pull my hand away to reach for the door, but Ethalia didn't let go, even though I could see it was hurting her.

'That look in your eyes will terrify Aline far more than a hundred assassins,' she said softly. 'Is that what you want for her?'

I looked at Kest for support but he just shrugged. 'You always look like you want to kill someone to me so it's hard to see the difference.'

Thanks a lot. 'All right,' I said, 'I promise to behave and not try to kill the Tailor, all right?'

Ethalia held onto my wrists for a few seconds longer, making me feel like an errant child needing to be calmed. 'Very well,' she said at last, letting me go and stepping away from the door. 'Try to remember the life Aline has lived, and the one she has yet to live.'

I found Aline sitting up in bed with the Tailor sitting on a chair next to the bed. Oddly, she was forgoing her usual practice of continually sewing something or other and instead holding Aline's hand, which both surprised me and on some very deep level offended me.

'Ladies,' I said, by way of greeting.

The Tailor grinned up at me. 'Why, is that the great Falsio dal Vond, come to save us from all the nasty people of the world?'

'Not all the nasty people, apparently,' I replied, then I remembered Ethalia's caution and tried to laugh as though this were just a joke between old friends. The Tailor, apparently as aware as I was of the nervousness in Aline's expression, made her own attempt at a friendly chortle. Well, it turns out we're both terrible actors, so we have that in common.

'Well, sweetling,' the Tailor said, rising from her chair, 'I'm sure you want to catch up with Falcio here, so I'll say goodnight.' She leaned over and kissed Aline on the top of her head before joining me at the door. 'You and I will see each other soon, won't we, Falcio?'

Through a rather massive act of will, I forced my mouth into a semblance of a smile. 'It's a promise.'

That sent the Tailor into her more customary cackle and she patted me on the shoulder as she walked through the door. Valiana and Ethalia entered after she left and sat on the edge of the bed. Aline smiled at them; for a moment I felt the heavy iron weight around my heart ease, just a little. Let me protect these three, I prayed to whatever Gods were listening. Destroy the rest of the country if you must, but let me hold these three close to me, always. But my mind went back to the assassin's face as he lay there dying on the ground, smug with the self-satisfaction of a zealot who believed he had the right to kill the girl who I had sworn to keep safe from harm.

'Falcio?' Aline was still looking at me, but her expression had changed. There was fear in her eyes that I hadn't seen before and it took me a moment to realise it was me who was making her that way. Ethalia caught the look on my face and then whispered into Aline's ear, causing her to start giggling.

I went to Aline's bedside. 'Well, your Majesty, it appears you still haven't won over all your subjects.'

'Do we know who the man was?'

'Not yet,' Valiana replied, 'but we'll find the people who sent him.'

Aline looked down at her hands. 'It was my fault. He came like the others before and presented himself at court. He said his name was Harden and he was the King's Whisper. I looked him up and he was there in the records. I know how happy it makes you when they return and so-'