“Behind you,” came a sharp voice.

He spun about. “God’s teeth, woman, but you haven’t lost the knack of creeping up on a man!” He pretended at shock to smother the sentimental welling-up that always accompanied her appearance, and threatened to make his voice crack with emotion. She had a long scratch down one cheek, some bruising on her face, but otherwise looked well. Very well. “My joy to see you alive knows no bounds, of course.” He swept off his hat, feather drooping apologetically, and kneeled in the dirt in front of her. “Say you forgive me my theatrics. You see now I was thinking only of you all along. My fondness for you is undiminished.”

She snorted at that. “Fondness, eh?” More than she could ever know, or he would ever tell her. “So this pantomime was for my benefit? I may swoon with gratitude.”

“One of your most endearing features was always your readiness to swoon.” He cranked himself back up to standing. “A consequence of your sensitive, womanly heart, I suppose. Walk with me, I have something to show you.” He led her off through the trees towards the farmhouse, its whitewashed walls gleaming in the midday sun, Friendly and Shivers trailing them like bad memories. “I must confess that, as well as doing you a favour, and the sore temptation of placing my boot in Orso’s arse at long last, there were some trifling issues of personal gain to consider.”

“Some things never change.”

“Nothing ever does, and why should it? A considerable quantity of Gurkish gold was on offer. Well, you know it was, you were the first to offer it. Oh, and Rogont was kind enough to promise me, in the now highly likely event that he is crowned King of Styria, the Grand Duchy of Visserine.”

He was deeply satisfied by her gasp of surprise. “You? Grand fucking Duke of Visserine?”

“I probably won’t use the word fucking on my decrees, but otherwise, correct. Grand Duke Nicomo sounds rather well, no? After all, Salier is dead.”

“That much I know.”

“He had no heirs, not even distant ones. The city was plundered, devastated by fire, its government collapsed, much of the populace fled, killed or otherwise taken advantage of. Visserine is in need of a strong and selfless leader to restore her to her glories.”

“And instead they’ll have you.”

He allowed himself a chuckle. “But who better suited? Am I not a native of Visserine?”

“A lot of people are. You don’t see them helping themselves to its dukedom.”

“Well, there’s only one, and it’s mine.”

“Why do you even want it? Commitments? Responsibilities? I thought you hated all that.”

“I always thought so, but my wandering star led me only to the gutter. I have not had a productive life, Monzcarro.”

“You don’t say.”

“I have frittered my gifts away on nothing. Self-pity and self-hatred have led me by unsavoury paths to self-neglect, self-injury and the very brink of self-destruction. The unifying theme?”