Riv staggered a dozen paces, fell against a high-backed chair, her balance feeling all wrong, as if she were trying to navigate the deck of a storm-racked ship. Faces loomed in and out of focus, thought she saw Jost and Vald but was not sure, blinking, shaking her head.

Aphra and Dalmae appeared from the door of the stairwell. They paused, taking in the scene before them.

‘Traitors,’ Dalmae yelled at the top of her voice, ‘Garidas is in league with the Kadoshim.’ There was a moment’s silence, even the few shouting at one another paused, and then chaos exploded. The sound of steel clashing, screams, blood on the barrack’s stone floor.

Riv pushed herself away from the chair and ran through the hall, weaving through a chaotic melee of battle, tripping over fallen bodies, on towards the doorway to the street.

The doors burst open before she reached them, more of Garidas’ men were rushing on, drawing blades. A gust of cold air hit Riv like a slap in the face, rain hitting her as if flung by an angry hand, stinging and refreshing. It helped her to focus for a moment and she ran out into the storm-drenched night, gasping in deep lungfuls of air, feeling as if she were suffocating.

A harnessed wain and half a dozen horses were tethered in the street.

The ones Garidas brought here to help Aphra escape. He was a good man, well intentioned, and Mam just murdered him!

She turned and ran through the empty street, rain sheeting down, the stone dark and slippery. Her back itched and burned, like a scab ready to peel, the sensation of new muscle rippling and bunching disturbing her, and the fog in her mind ebbed and flowed, like the tide rising and falling.

What is wrong with me?

Time enough for that later. First, I must do what is right.

As she turned a corner she heard the sounds of battle spill out from her barrack into the open behind her. Turning down another street, she saw figures, more White-Wings. They were setting oak bars across another barrack’s door. Riv recognized Lorina, captain of the other hundred that had marched to Oriens. More of her White-Wings were standing in the shadows, waiting. As Riv ran past, muffled voices cried out, thuds hammering on the far side of the barrack doors.

This is all Kol. Charming, handsome, fascinating Kol. A storm is coming, he said to Aphra. What side will you choose?

Kol has been arrested, accused of improper relations, Garidas said. She suddenly remembered Kol’s hand upon her cheek, fingers brushing her lips, and she shivered.

He has made the storm, has planned for this. Sent the giants away, has Lorina with him, and my sister. But Garidas said he had Kol in custody, that he is being taken to Israfil.