Yrain struggled briefly, but Hawklan pinned her shoulder with his knee, and quietly slipped the knife from her already loosening grasp. Yrain beat her free hand on the ground in frustration for a moment, and then lay still.
‘Are you quiet now, Helyadin?’ Hawklan said softly.
‘Yes,’ said Yrain, her voice breaking.
Hawklan released her and gently helped her into a sitting position. She pushed him away, forcefully but not angrily, and began to nurse her injured hand. Tears were running down her face, glistening in the dull torchlight; but she was not sobbing and, though shocked, her expression was one of anger and bewilderment.
Hawklan swung a menacing finger round to Dar-volci, standing by the crouching Andawyr. ‘Explain,’ he said, his own shock showing as anger.
Unexpectedly, Yrain rea
