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At this, Lymok nods frantically, grunting into the gag.

“Have you forgotten,” Harok says, “what he did to you?”

Tobi turns and looks up at Harok. “Perhaps there is more to this than we know. We ought to take him back to Urynwud, a prisoner. He will have information about the Exceli and their plans.”

And about Azuria, Tobi thinks. About the Rose Court and why they instructed Lymok to ensure Tobi never escaped the Amber Forest.

Harok looks at Tobi with a soft smile. “You are truly an Azurian,” he says.

“You think Azurians are merciful?”

“I think they are…,” Harok says, ending his statement with an Ambolk word Tobi does not understand.

“I don’t know that word.”

“Azurians do not use simple justice. They use tricks and schemes.”

“Oh. Yes. Perhaps. But this is no trick. This is wise. And you said that banalil was meant to let the forest decide the prisoners fate. Perhaps the forest sent us to Lymok. To save him. Let us take him back to Urynwud. We can find out what really happened here.” He moves a little closer to Harok. “And if you are not satisfied, you can put him on trial. You are Irgo. Surely he should face your justice, not the Exceli’s?”

Again, Lymok makes a grunting noise. Tobi cannot tell if he approves of this idea or not.

Harok purses his lips for a moment. He gives Lymok a long look. Tobi thinks that what Harok would most like to do is to use his sword to take Lymok’s head. But when he does draw his sword, it is to slice through the ropes holding Lymok to the tree.

Harok insists that the rope gagging Lymok is not removed. Tobi thinks it would be better to give Lymok some water and bread, but he knows he has won quite a victory persuading Harok to release Lymok from the tree and thinks better of asking for more.

He says nothing as Harok reties some of the rope around Lymok’s wrists and hitches him to Embox’s saddle, so he will be led along beside them for the rest of the journey back to Urynwud.

As Harok sets Embox walking, Tobi watches Lymok, stumbling awkwardly beside them, clearly weakened from however long he had been left before they found him.

More than once, Tobi insists Harok slows to stop Lymok from falling and being dragged along the forest floor.

And he is sure that if he had said nothing, Harok would simply have allowed Lymok to be gravely injured on the journey.

When they finally arrive at Urynwud, Lymok is staggering like a drunken man, Harok orders the attendants who rush to assist him to fetch four guards to take Lymok to the dungeons. “And I want warriors on his door.” Harok barks. “Not dungeon guards. A dozen warriors.”

Harok turns to look at Lymok. Lymok stares back at him. Harok reaches out and removes the rope that stops Lymok’s mouth. Lymok spits it out, spluttering. But he still says nothing for a few moments. When he does speak, his voice is scratchy for want of water, “It’s good to be home, Irgo.”

This seems to enrage Harok. As two guards appear and take hold of Lymok’s arms, Harok slaps Lymok in the face. It’s a hit with an open palm, but hard. Lymok gasps, swaying back in the arms of the guards. “I will have you flogged at dawn,” Harok snaps. “And then I will decide if you live or die. It may be a different decision from the last time.”

Tobi comes to stand beside Harok. “May I speak with him?” Tobi says, as Lymok is led away.

“On the morrow,” Harok says, turning to give Tobi a brief kiss. “Tonight there will be a feast to mark my return to the throne of Urynwud, healed and whole. We can deal with Lymok when I have done all I mean to do this day.” He gives Tobi a lustful look. A look that suggests there is more to Harok’s plans for Tobi than this simple day in the forest.

Tobi wonders what other pleasures the night will hold.

Tobi finds Lymok far from his thoughts as he is taken to his chambers to prepare for the feast. He is bathed and shaved and oiled and dressed in one of the gossamer thin alits Harok likes him to wear for special occasions.

His hair has grown longer in the time he has spent at Urynwud, although not as long as most male Solwen wear it, but long enough for Tobi to have the sides shorn short by his body servants in the Solwen style. When it is done, one of the servants shows Tobi a dish containing a thick black paste. He nods eagerly and is given a triple stripe of dark paint over his nose and cheekbones. It’s cold and feels strange. Thick and sticky. Nothing like the paint he used to use on his face when he performed. He must look so Solwen. He wishes he had a silvered glass to see it.

But he has to satisfy himself with the expression on Harok’s face when he comes through their adjoining door, dressed in fine clothes of black and green. He simply stares. He looks a little stunned before he says, “Suskara,” voice thick with lust as it often is when he looks on Tobi fresh from his bath.

Tobi puts his hands on his hips and preens, “Good evening, Ereyek,” he says, giving Harok a small bow.

Harok does not reply. He simply crosses the chamber in a few large strides, takes Tobi in his arms and kisses him hard.

The kiss seems to light Tobi’s insides. Harok’s hands rove over Tobi’s body and Tobi’s senses fill with the familiar scent of Harok, herbal and dark. Tobi is lost in his feelings. Here, in Harok’s arms, he melts, leaning closer, feeling Harok’s strength holding him. He has never been happier, never felt safer.

The feast is a great affair. A full fat moon hangs heavy over the trees. The zhilvar is alive with the light of many braziers and a great bonfire. Outside the protective cover of the jewelled canopy, snow is falling from the sky. Trays of food are brought out. Rich winter food. Meat with a heavy glaze of spices, rich sauces thick and glossy with cream, nuts and honey. Everyone drinks strong ale.