***
Alison peered out of the reed shelter that Fury had constructed. It was early morning and she felt the need to relieve herself. That was best done when the tide was flowing and it was flowing very rapidly now. She paddled out into the cold water and was squatting down when she spied the dragon boat. It was moored nearby. She wasn't frightened. It was there to protect them. There were young men on board. Sometimes they waved but never when she went for a pee.
That told you something about them. When she was small, she'd lived on a military base where her father was in the medical corps. Things were different here but not totally. The young men on the boats were subject to strict discipline. They were the sort who would lark around then spring into action when a command was given. She felt at home in their presence but couldn't say the same for Fury. She'd struggled to dismiss unpleasant thoughts about him.
Fury was a wimp.
She was pregnant and he couldn't come to terms with that. They had exchanged talismans and made love. Everything should follow automatically from that but it hadn't. She had told him and he'd not known what to do.
A calamity had occurred. She was going to have a baby and Fury was incapable of appreciating the responsibilities he would have to face. Alison adjusted her clothing and went back to the shelter.
***
Tom rose and stretched himself. He had spent an exhausting night tramping through woods and marshland with the special forces under his command. They were loaded down with entrenching tools and other military hardware. He'd carried twice as much, partly because of his superior size but mainly to show he shared a common burden.
He no longer slept in the guardhouse. Some of his warriors were female and he preferred them to the hairy-legged amazons who had previously shared his bed. The new arrangement met with the queen's approval but was deeply resented by the girls of the guard.
His new companions arrived to help him dress. A war council had been called and he would be attending it as the holder of the esteemed office of Head Master. His ceremonial cloak was produced and fastened with his broach of office. Otherwise, his clothes were the same as those of his men ... knee-length tunic worn over leggings and leather boots. The tunic was padded to absorb sword thrusts and reinforced with chain mail in vulnerable places.
His new force would soon be put to the test. Morgon had laid siege to the port of Dunavon and the queen was preparing a counter attack. It was the opportunity Tom had been waiting for. He left his tent and was escorted to the council chamber by his personal guard.