Nothing kills people like a war, and the war with the Irish had been long.
But now, it was almost done.
“It feels dirty,” Arfa said, leaning on the Tintagel battlements.
Merlyn nodded. “But you did well.”
“So many people dead. And suddenly it all stops because of a stupid marriage. At least it’ll be over once Tristan gets back.”
Merlyn arched an eyebrow. “You sent Tristan?”
“You sent a compulsive womaniser to spend weeks travelling with the renowned beauty who’s meant to marry his uncle.” Merlyn sighed. “No, can’t see anything going wrong with that at all.”
Fair warning: I will tell the rest of this story, but probably not for a while.