He smiled and opened his mouth to speak, but she silenced him with a raised finger. Leaning close, she whispered, ‘Are you a fool to have come here!’

‘I know … I know,’ he murmured back, his voice low.

She continued, fierce, hissing, ‘There are veterans here from Korel!’

He raised both hands, surrendering. ‘Yes. I agree. We’ll have to leave tonight.’

‘We?’

He was surprised to see her confused, but then she seemed to recover and she set down the wine, her gaze lowered. When she once more met his gaze he understood; she’d taken too long to find her words. ‘Kyle … there are riches, and more, to be won here – I can’t throw all that away …’

He set down his glass as well, fought hard to keep all expression from his face. ‘You were right.’

‘Right?’

‘I was a fool.’

Stung, she shook her head. ‘No … it’s not that. Don’t you understand?’

‘Leave. Now. With me. You and Dorrin. That I understand.’

But she took up her glass and walked away. ‘Now you are being a fool. A romantic fool.’

He picked up his wine as well, threw it back hard and swallowed. He regarded her across the beaten earth floor. In his anger it occurred to him: was this why she still wore her armour? Hadn’t even unbuckled her sword? He murmured, ‘You’re the fool, Lyan.’

Her face stiffened, and she inclined her head as if in farewell. ‘Thank you for saying hello to Dorrin. You mean a lot to him. For his sake, please do not get yourself killed.’

‘For his sake?’

He watched her closely, saw the muscles of her jaw tighten against an answer she might have given, watched her resolutely refuse to speak.

He crossed to the door, unbolted it and glanced out. The muddy mass of tracks and wagon-ruts that was a way out of Mantle town lay mostly empty. He turned back to give her one last look. ‘Give my apologies to Dorrin.’ And he slipped out.

He might have imagined it, but it appeared as if she lurched towards him as he left, but it was too little and too late. So much, he decided, for what might have been between them. He now wondered whether he’d imagined it all – as a romantic fool might.

He yanked his hood low and pulled his cloak tightly about himself, tucking his hand within his shirt to grip the white blade. He meant to head out north immediately; get out of the encampment as swiftly as possible. His route took him past a few timber houses of the old Mantle town. As he crossed in front of one entrance it burst open and out spilled a crowd of rowdy drunken outlanders in a glare of yellow lantern-light. They stumbled into him and he righted one with a quick, ‘Careful, there.’