“There is a war coming,” Harry said, his voice loud and confident. “The nests of the Loathly Ones must be destroyed, and the Invaders prevented from entering our reality. But we can’t just wait around for new torcs . . . coming as soon as possible. We need them now. Right now! What’s to prevent our many enemies from launching an attack, while we’re perceived to be weak and vulnerable after such a major defeat? What’s to stop the Loathly Ones from hitting us right now, in retaliation for the destruction of their towers, or to prevent us from attacking other nests? We need our torcs. The family must be protected. It must be made strong again. And for that . . . we need a new leader.”

He stared right at me, his face cold and unyielding. “I demand that Edwin step down! His half-baked ideas and incompetent leadership have cost us too much already. He’s a threat to us all. He has proved himself a failure in the field, got most of his people killed, and doesn’t even have the decency to apologise or admit his fault. It’s time to undo all the damage he’s done to the family, and return us to traditional control. We must restore the Matriarch to power. She alone has the experience to wage a war successfully.”

“No,” I said flatly, and my voice stopped him dead. All faces turned back to me again. I tried to keep the anger out of my voice. “Are your memories really so short? The Matriarch betrayed this family. Have you forgotten the price she made you pay for your old armour? The deaths of your twin brothers and sisters? All those babies, sacrificed to the Heart? She sanctioned that practice, and kept it a secret from you, because she knew you’d never go along with it once you knew the truth. Will you sell your souls again, so easily? The torcs I will provide you, from Strange, will have no price tag attached. The armour I will give you, you can wear proudly.”

I looked at Harry. “I can guarantee the family new torcs. Can the Matriarch do that? Can you, Harry?”

“So, Strange belongs to you, does he?” said Harry.

“Strange belongs to no one,” I said. “But he knows an arsehole when he sees one.” I looked back at the sea of watching faces. “It’s up to you. Make your own decision. Don’t be told what to do, by the Matriarch, or Harry, or me. I can’t lead you into a war against your will, and I wouldn’t if I could. I’m not your Patriarch. I’m just a Drood, determined to do what’s right. To be what I was raised to be. To fight the good fight against all the enemies of humanity.”