The footsteps drew closer. They were light, unhurried yet deliberate. Then they stopped. There was a faint scrape of wood. A glimmer of moonlight fell through his tiny window in a silver splash on the door. By its pale light, he saw the spy-shutter slide open and a pair of eyes twinkle in the shadow beyond.

He threw off his blanket and swung his legs to the floor. ‘Who’s there?’ No reply, only another sound. A giggle, maybe? He got to his feet, his joints stiff as rusted iron, and shuffled towards the door. The chain shrieked obscenely, shattering the quiet, followed by a deadening jolt as it reached its limit. The eyes had vanished, perhaps scared away. But no other sound followed from down the corridor. No one came.

He waited, his curiosity pricked, and soon enough his patience was rewarded. The eyes returned, furtively, like a fox slinking from its hole. This time he was close enough to see them. Large and luminous. Kohl-rimmed lashes, shifting pools of dark light. Trouble.

‘Who are you?’

Another titter. The woman’s eyes were levelled at his. ‘Ágrios.’

Savage. Ramedios had called him the word many times, but never in the way that soft, silken voice spoke it, more breath in it than sound. He heard the smooth grind of the key in the lock. The door swung open and with it came a waft of scent. It touched his brain like a needle, startling with its sweet-spice perfume. As out of place in this cell as a summer rose.

She was small and slim with a long river of black hair, slightly tousled and woven through with golden thread. Her eyes were sloped and full of mischief, her robe rippled like moonbeams over water as she moved into the room.

Erlan stood at the limit of his chain. She came closer. He didn’t see the point in asking her who she was a third time. What was a name anyway?

‘Arbasdos hates you,’ she murmured, her perfumed breath swirling into his mouth. Was this one of Silanos’s tricks? Or worse, the general’s? Her voice was low and husky. ‘That’s why I’m here.’

‘What’s he to you?’

‘My master. Like you.’

‘Not like me.’

‘He says you are dangerous. A wild man.’ She spoke with an accent, different to the other Greek he’d heard. ‘He says you’re an animal.’

Without warning, something sharp and cold pricked the cord of muscle under his chin. He saw the glint of a long dagger in her small hands. He swore but the pressure increased, piercing his skin.

‘You crazy bitch,’ he snarled, forced to his tiptoes.

‘Back, savage,’ she said, laying her other hand on his chest and pushing with arched fingers. He retreated till his spine butted against the wall. ‘I want to look at you.’