While this ritual was going on there came a moment when Bovai saw Morvai alone and he approached his brother's side.

The look in Morvai's eyes was one of warning.

'If you come to tell me that you love her, I know,' Morvai said evenly.

Stunned Bovai could not reply.

Morvai put his hand upon his brother's arm. 'You have acted with honour.' Then he spoke softly. 'The heart wants what it wants. Always remember that, no matter what else happens.'

Bovai found he could not speak. And then Morvai turned away, broke into a smile and extended a hand to his bride's father, and the two of them clasped hands firmly, then shared a drink from the same goblet.

Bovai had looked over at Anleah, seated at the feasting table and, seeing her aglow with love for Morvai, had felt his heart might shatter within his chest, for he knew that he would never see her look at him in that way.

Throughout the ceremony he had stood by his brother's side, heart filled – at first – with pain, but when he had seen his brother kiss her, he had forced his mind away from his pain, and willed his heart to ice. He would never love again, if love meant such pain.

He had seen something else at that ceremony: the look she gave to Kavala. It had been warm – a friend's smile – yet the look Kavala had returned to her told Bovai that now Kavala had three reasons to hate Morvai. He saw a reflection of his own longing mirrored in Kavala's expression, just for a instant, only a brief flicker; but Bovai had seen it.

When, at long last, protocol permitted, Bovai fled, leaving the feast for fear that his stomach would rebel and that he would vomit.

His pain drove him from the camp. He took his bow and told a sentry he was going hunting.

For five days he absented himself from his father's compound. For a year and a month, Bovai and his brother lived without comment. Anleah grew more beautiful, happy in her marriage. Every smile and laugh was a dagger in Bovai's heart, for he knew the laughter and the smiles were for Morvai. She loved him with an intensity only a few of the moredhel ever knew, and even the most reticent among the warriors would smile at the sight of her singing on her way to the stream to clean clothing, or as she tended the garden.

But Morvai grew more reflective, more thoughtful, and disappeared alone in the forest for days at a time, often returning without game. There were days when he would suddenly become distracted while in conversations, as if he were listening to some distant call.

One day Morvai called Bovai to his side and said something that troubled his brother for months to come. 'Should I fall, brother, should anything happen to me… will you look after Anleah?'

Bovai said, 'Of course, but nothing will happen.'

Morvai smiled and said, 'Fate is fickle, brother. Rest assured, something will happen.' He put his hand on his younger brother's arm. 'See to her needs. Take her back to the lodge of her father, should that be her wish.'

'I will,' said Bovai.

Months fled, the seasons passed, and Morvai became ever more distracted. Gaduin asked Bovai if he knew what troubled his eldest son, but Bovai could think of nothing. Yet Bovai also sensed a deepening unease within his brother's soul.

Then, in late summer of the third year following the marriage, Morvai finally changed. No moredhel needed to be told when a family member made the change, known by the eledhel as the Returning.

Bovai awoke an hour before dawn one day with a dread sense that something was terribly wrong. He was already out of his bed and in the courtyard of the compound, buckling his sword-belt, when he heard Anleah scream.

He had raced with his father and other warriors to Morvai's lodge, and inside found Anleah standing before an empty bed.

'What is it, woman?' Gaduin shouted.

Softly, with tears flowing down her cheeks, Anleah spoke. 'I awoke to find a stranger in this room, father of my…' Her voice broke. 'My husband is no more.'

A cold more frigid than ice stabbed through Bovai's stomach. He glanced at his father and saw the old warrior's implacability. While his mask remained in place, all colour had drained from his cheeks.

Softly, Gaduin said, 'We must find the traitor. He must die.'

Bovai felt the same pent-up rage and fear that his father was suppressing. Their beloved brother and son had changed. He was no longer of their blood. The evil Queen of Elvandar's black arts had lured away another of their people: even as they stood there, the being who had once been Morvai was making his way southward, toward the haven of Elvandar.

Bovai signalled and warriors hurried back to their own lodges to get weapons. Within minutes, fifty moredhel had made their way into the forest, after Morvai.

The chase had been brutal, with no respite for either prey or hunters. In the memory of their race, there had been no greater affront to a clan than this. Even those renegades who had been banished by their own people and who lived in communities of humans and goblins might some day redeem their honour. But one who fled to Elvandar was a betrayer of everything that made one a member of the People, a moredhel.

For six days they ran through the forests, swamps and bogs of Yabon. At last they came to the river marking the boundary of Elvandar.

Bovai had glimpsed his brother three times in the chase; once upon the crest of a hill, another time moving into distant trees on the other side of a valley; and there at the river's edge.

Bovai had unleashed an arrow which had arched high into the sky only to strike futilely mere yards behind his brother as he splashed through the water.

Figures in tunics with bows waited on the far bank, watching to see how close Bovai and the others would approach their border.

Bovai's rage overcame his caution and he ran forward to try to kill the traitor before he reached the shelter of the trees on the other side of the river. He nocked an arrow as he ran, then quickly planted his feet and sighted, forcing himself to accuracy, for this would be his final shot.

As he drew, so did those behind him, and they were answered by the enemy across the river. His own arrow had left the bowstring a scant moment before others, and with a howl of frustration he had seen the shaft fall inches short. Then his shout of rage had turned to pain as an elven arrow struck him in the thigh.

Two of his companions had had to drag him to safety, for even wounded, Bovai was ready to charge across the river.

The last he saw of the creature who had once been his brother was his back as he disappeared into the darkness of Elvandar.

'Bovai?'

He stirred from his painful memories.

It was Golun, leader of his scouts.

'Yes?'

Golun saw that Bovai's arm was still bared in spite of the icy cold.

'Remembering?'

Bovai nodded. Golun had been at the wedding feast and knew of all the dishonour that had followed. Clan Badger had proclaimed the shame of Clan Raven unbearable and disavowed the peace between them. Anleah's return was demanded by her father. Bovai told Gaduin of his promise to Morvai – to take the girl home – but his father had lashed out and struck his son at the very mention of the traitor's name.

Rather than let Anleah return to her people, Gaduin had forced Anleah to marry Bovai against her will. Bovai had fought six battles over four years with Clan Badger, before forcing them to yield after the death of Vergalus. Kavala had been forced to bow before Murad, and Clan Badger had been absorbed into Clan Raven.

Ten years of struggle had followed, as other clans in Yabon sought to displace Raven. The bitterness of what all saw as a base betrayal by Clan Raven of Clan Badger had taken years to quell.

Golun had stood by Bovai's side throughout and in the years that followed Bovai had proven himself worthy of command, his mind cold, calculated, and filled with cunning. He was remorseless in the hunting down of his clan's enemies, gaining the reputation of being the darkest of warriors and one never to be crossed, for vengeance was all that he lived for. He had partially redeemed himself in Murad's eyes, and now he was poised to regain the seat on the Council denied him after his father's death, the seat at Murad's right hand. His rage had served Bovai well.