What’s happening to me? Have I caught some disease from the mission to Oriens and into Forn? Some plant spore that has infected me? I’ve heard tell of warriors breathing spores or seeds into their lungs, their stomachs, and fungus growing inside them, eating its way out!

‘Am I going to die?’

Riv found the fact that Aphra didn’t immediately discard that option deeply worrying.

‘No,’ Aphra eventually said. ‘But I think we’re going to have to get you out of Drassil.’

‘What! Why?’

‘Riv, you’re growing. You have new muscle forming—’

‘I can feel it,’ Riv said, flexing her shoulders, feeling muscle bunch between her shoulder and neck. It was an odd sensation.

‘This must be how Vald feels,’ she said.

‘You’re starting to look like him,’ Aphra agreed with a wry smile. She stroked Riv’s face. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.

‘Why?’ Riv said. ‘What for?’

‘So many things. For the way I’ve been, with you. I’ve had my own troubles, but that is no excuse. You are my blood, the most important thing to me in all the world, and I have neglected you, let you down.’ A fat tear rolled down Aphra’s cheek.

Riv looked up at her, a whole host of emotions whirling through her. She tried to find words, but they wouldn’t come, so she settled for a smile.

The latch on the door rattled. Riv jumped, twisting to look and immediately regretting that, a wave of dizziness.

A figure entered. Aphra was standing, a hand on her sword hilt, stepping between Riv and the door. She relaxed when she saw who it was.

‘Mam, you startled me.’

‘How is she?’ Riv’s mam said.

Aphra stepped out of the way.

‘Hello, Mam,’ Riv said.

‘Oh, my darling,’ Dalmae said, crouching down beside Riv, stroking her face.

‘Nice to see you,’ Riv whispered, feeling an edge of delirium starting to fog her brain again.

‘It’s nice to see you, too,’ her mam said, a half-laugh. Riv was surprised to see tears in her mam’s eyes. She wasn’t much of a crier. Riv was also surprised to see that beneath her cloak her mam was dressed in her old White-Wing uniform, a short-sword hanging from her belt.

‘What’s going on?’ Riv asked, brow wrinkling, her sense for danger tingling, a faint echo in her head.

‘The fortress is on alert,’ Aphra said, her eyes flickering to their mam. ‘Word of a possible Kadoshim attack.’

‘I’d better—’ Riv started, struggling to rise, though too quickly, a new wave of dizziness and she blinked and found herself lying in her cot again.

Try again, slower this time.

‘Garidas is downstairs, asking for you,’ her mam said to Aphra. ‘He’s not alone. A score of his hundred in the barracks. More outside.’ There was meaning in the words that Riv didn’t understand.

‘What did you tell him?’ Aphra asked.