“Just one more thing.” He flinched in surprise as her spit spattered softly across his eye. “That’s from Benna, you treacherous little fuck.”

Victus wiped his face, eyes creeping shiftily to Shivers, then back to her. “I didn’t do nothing you wouldn’t have done. Nothing your brother wouldn’t have done, that’s certain. Nothing you didn’t both do to Cosca, and you owed him more than I owed you—”

“That’s why you’re wiping your face instead of trying to hold your guts in.”

“You ever think you might have brought this on yourself? Big ambitions mean big risks. All I’ve done is float with the current—”

Shivers took a sudden step forwards. “Off you float, then, ’fore you get your throat cut.” Monza realised he had a knife out in one big fist. The one she’d given him the first day they met.

“Whoah there, big man.” Victus held up his palms, rings glittering. “I’m on my way, don’t worry.” He made a big show of turning and strutting off into the night. “You two need to work on your tempers,” wagging one finger over his shoulder. “No point getting riled up over every little thing. That’ll only end in blood, believe me!”

It wasn’t so hard for Monza to believe. Everything ended in blood, whatever she did. She realised she was left alone with Shivers, something she’d spent the last few weeks avoiding like the rot. She knew she should say something, take some sort of step towards making things square with him. They had their problems, but at least he was her man, rather than Rogont’s. She might have need of someone to save her life in the coming days, and he was no monster, however he might look.

“Shivers.” He turned to her, knife still clutched tight, steel blade and steel eye catching the torch flame and twinkling the colours of fire. “Listen—”

“No, you listen.” He bared his teeth, taking a step towards her.

“Monza! You came!” Cosca emerged from one of the trenches, arms spread wide. “And with my favourite Northman!” He ignored the knife and shook Shivers warmly by his free hand, then grabbed Monza’s shoulders and kissed her on both cheeks. “I haven’t had a chance to congratulate you on your speech. Born on a farm. A nice touch. Humble. And talk of peace. From you? It was like seeing a farmer express his hopes for famine. Even this old cynic couldn’t help but be moved.”

“Fuck yourself, old man.” But she was secretly glad she didn’t have to find the hard words now.

Cosca raised his brows. “You try and say the right thing—”

“Some folk don’t like the right thing,” said Shivers in his gravelly whisper, sliding his knife away. “You ain’t learned that yet?”

“Every day alive is a lesson. This way, comrades! Just up ahead we can get a fine view of the assault.”

“You’re attacking? Now?”

“We tried in daylight. Didn’t work.” It didn’t look like darkness was working any better. There were wounded men lining the next trench—grimaces, groans, bloody bandages. “Wherever is my noble employer, his Excellency Duke Rogont?”