At the very least, having her in captivity would allow him to exert a great deal of pressure on her people, who would naturally be very concerned for her safety.

Perhaps Malekith thought that if he had the Everqueen in his hands, he could use her as a figurehead for his occupation. Perhaps, by the use of magic or torture or some combination of both, he might even be able to make her act the part.

It would be a very bad thing for the people of Ulthuan if the Everqueen was to fall into the Witch King’s hands. The best thing he could do for his people might be to ensure that it never happened.

Looking at the beautiful girl walking beside him, he was not sure he was capable of killing her. She was not his enemy, she was his queen. It was his duty to keep her alive if he could, and that was a duty he intended to perform for as long as there was breath within him. The Everqueen caught him looking at her from the corner of her eye and looked at him quizzically. ‘What are you thinking about, Prince Tyrion?’

‘I’m thinking about my duty, your serenity, and what I may need to do to perform it.’

‘I’m sure that you will do whatever needs to be done, Prince Tyrion.’

‘There are some things that I hope never become necessary.’

‘We all have had such duties to perform. When the time comes, you must put aside your personal feelings and do what is needed.’

Tyrion wondered if she knew that she was signing her own death warrant. He half-suspected that she did.

Sunlight dappled the path. Alarielle gave a shout and dropped downslope. She picked up something, studied it and nodded.

‘What are you doing?’ Tyrion asked. He was still taken aback by the suddenness of her action. He glared around, half-expecting some threat to emerge from the trees.

‘I saw this,’ said Alarielle, raising the long piece of wood in her left hand.

‘Very good,’ said Tyrion. ‘You found a stick.’

‘Not just a stick,’ she said, already cross-legged and whittling away at the wood. ‘I can make this into a bow.’

‘I am not sure that will help us against the armies of Malekith,’ he said.

She kept stripping the bark from the wood with her knife. ‘No, but it will help us to eat.’

‘Only if you can hit something with it,’ he said.

She smiled. It was as dazzling as the sunbeams filtering down through the gaps in the leaves. ‘I think I might be capable of that.’

‘How long is this going to take?’ He glanced around, as much to let her know that even now enemies might be creeping up on them as to give himself a chance to spot pursuit.

‘A while,’ she said. ‘You may as well make yourself comfortable.’

‘Let us hope our enemies are doing the same.’

‘You were not brought up in Avelorn, were you, Prince Tyrion?’

‘You know it.’

‘It’s easy enough to see. You do not move like an elf of Avelorn. You do not cover your tracks like an elf of Avelorn. You do not think like an elf of Avelorn.’

‘I suspect all of this is leading towards the inevitable conclusion that I am not an elf of Avelorn, and that you are…’

‘How long do you think this pursuit may go on?’

‘I don’t know. Weeks, perhaps months.’

‘Indeed.’ She inspected the bow which she had stripped of all bark now. ‘Improvised, but it will do.’

‘What has the time got to do with it?’

‘How do you propose we eat?’

‘We forage for edible roots, we bring down small game.’

She was making a string from the lacings of her dark elf tunic now and winding it around the bent piece of wood, drawing it taut. Tyrion could see a bow beginning to take shape.

‘And how are you proposing to do that?’

‘I was brought up in the mountains of Cothique. I can use a sling.’

Alarielle took some other pieces of wood and began to sharpen them. She was making very basic arrows.

‘I don’t see a sling,’ she said.

‘They are easier to make than a bow,’ said Tyrion. ‘You can use leather or cloth. Leather by preference.’

‘And you are good with this improvised weapon?’

‘I am good with any weapon.’

Alarielle took her hastily made bow and sighted at something in a nearby tree. She aimed, drew and fired.