Even in the gloom, he saw her pupils were gaping holes of shadow. He wondered whether she’d been drinking but there was no wine on her breath. He considered snatching the knife but she must have seen the intent in his eyes because her hand dropped and the razor-edge with it to a place on his body infinitely more delicate. He sucked a sharp breath.

‘Are you an animal, Northman?’ she sighed. What was he supposed to say to that with six inches of steel tickling his balls? ‘A wild beast. . .? But I think I know how to tame you.’ He peered down at his elfin tormentor. She was wrapped in a bolt of silk which shimmered in the dim light, clinging to the tight curves of her body. Despite the absurdity of his situation, a pulse of excitement raced through him, seeing the hard buds of her nipples under the flimsy silk. She was good at this, damn her, there was no mistaking that.

‘I know why you’re here,’ he said.

‘Do you?’

‘You’re Arbasdos’s whore.’

The blade rose half an inch; Erlan recoiled against the wall. ‘I’m no one’s whore,’ she corrected him.

‘Woman, then.’ Probably better to mind his manners under the circumstances.

Her sneer softened to a smile. ‘Like no other.’

‘Until tonight.’ The smile fell. ‘He no longer needs you, does he? Surplus to requirements.’ He took strange satisfaction seeing her bright eyes darken with anger.

‘Bah! Let him find what pleasure he can in the bed of that – that child. She will not keep him for long. Until then. . . I shall tend to his animals.’

She leaned closer, but instead of the brush of her lips or her fingertips, he felt the knife-point circle around him. This was madness with the deadly steel there, yet he felt the nearness of her and the blood flooding to his loins. She didn’t look down. Didn’t need to. She knew exactly where the knife ended and he began. Even so, he pressed back against the wall. The chain clanked.

‘The guard,’ he whispered, his voice suddenly hoarse.

She clicked her tongue. ‘Coward.’ Her tiny nostrils flared with disdain. ‘Anyway, Marcellos will not disturb us.’

‘How can you be sure?’

‘Because I drugged him. He won’t wake till morning. And then they’ll whip him for it.’ Her white teeth flashed beneath him. ‘There are no others in these cells. Only you.’ Another infuriating giggle. ‘They make spears long in the northlands, hmm?’ She was toying with him. But he no longer cared. He felt a thirst long dormant in him reawakening.

‘Here.’ She reached up and popped something into his mouth. A small wad of leaves. It tasted bitter. ‘Swallow.’ He demurred; the blade insisted. ‘Swallow,’ she purred. He swallowed.