The Rebel Prince (Moorhawke Trilogy, Book 3)
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Wynter is at last reunited with the exiled Prince Alberon, as he plots insurgency from his forest encampment. But she is losing faith with her companions, as they attempt to drive Alberon's plans in different directions. Caught between Razi's complex diplomacy, Alberon's desire for martial strength and Christopher's fierce personal loyalty, Wynter finds herself torn. Can she combine these philosophies, and find a way to heal the rift between king and heir? Or will each side destroy the other, causing Wynter to lose everything she holds dear? She fears the answers lie veiled in conflict and loss.
Call him off!’ Boro’s huge jaws closed on flesh and fur, ripping a scarlet gash in the black Wolf ’s leg. ‘Sól!’ screeched Wynter. ‘It’s Christopher! Call Boro off! Call him off!’ ‘Frith an Domhain!’ Sól yelled. He called urgently to Boro. ‘Tar anseo! ’ The hound broke off immediately and Wynter fell to her hands and knees, face to face with the black Wolf, who was cowering by the base of the cliff wall. His hackles were raised in a spiky ruff around his snarling face, and his teeth and fur
would break the Northlands apart.’ ‘Disastrous,’ murmured Razi. Wynter and Alberon nodded in agreement. Shirken’s kingdom was the Southlands’ strongest ally in the Europes, and the North’s primary defence against the Haun. Without Shirken’s stabilising influence, Jonathon’s fragile Northern border would be impossibly compromised. Alberon tapped his fingers against Marguerite’s sealed papers. ‘So Marguerite’s fears are well founded, then, and her father’s excesses are a cause for concern.’
He bowed uncertainly to her and she glowered in reply. She stepped free of Christopher’s arms and wiped her eyes, her face hard. ‘Who was he, Sir Knight?’ asked Razi. ‘The Protector Lady thinks he knew her father. Is this possible?’ Oliver shook his head. ‘My Lord,’ he said wearily, ‘I did not even know the fellow’s name. His companions treated him with great wariness. They seemed to distrust him entirely . . . I suspect because of his unhinged nature. He simply translated all that was said,
nobility and his master’s orders. But when the lieutenant turned to scan the party of coldly staring Merron, this sympathy did not prevent Wynter from straightening like the rest of them and glowering at him with all the haughty disdain she could muster. The lieutenant turned on his heel and took the long walk back to Alberon’s tent. Once the soldier had disappeared from sight, Úlfnaor turned to look Razi in the eye. The question was plain in his face: If this goes the way we thought it would,
does aught, we’ll remember it. Let them know that we are strong.’ ‘I swears it,’ soothed the Aoire. ‘You not to worry.’ Christopher blushed suddenly, as if embarrassed by his outburst, and he straightened. Nodding curtly, he pulled his horse back around and glanced at Razi, who turned without further word and led the way between the tents. Wynter fell into place behind them, Sól, Boro and a cranky little pack mule trailing after. They followed Razi up the alley and out onto the road, where they