Hooves skidded wildly beneath them. Kalam was thrown to one side, met a wall and was scraped off. A polished floor rose up to meet him, punched the air from his lungs. The crossbow flew from his hands and skittered away. Gasping, the assassin slowly rolled over.

They had arrived in a musty hallway, and the stallion was anything but pleased. The ceiling was high and arched, with an arm’s reach to spare above the rearing animal. Somehow Minala had stayed in the saddle. She struggled to calm the stallion, and a moment later succeeded, leaning forward to rest one hand lightly just behind its flaring nostrils.

With a groan, Kalam climbed to his feet.

‘Where are we?’ Minala hissed, staring up and down the long, empty hall.

‘If I’m correct, Mock’s Hold,’ the assassin muttered, retrieving the crossbow. ‘The Empress knows we’re coming – seems she’s grown impatient...’

‘If that’s the case, Kalam, we’re as good as dead.’

He was not inclined to disagree, but said nothing, stepping past the horse and eyeing the doors at the far end. ‘I think we’re in the Old Keep.’

‘That explains the dust – even so, it smells like a stable.’

‘Not surprising – half this building’s been converted into just that. The Main Hall remains, though.’ He nodded towards the doors. ‘Through there.’

‘No other approaches?’

He shook his head. ‘None surviving. Her back door will be a warren, in any case.’

Minala grunted and climbed down from the saddle. ‘Do you think she’s been watching?’

‘Magically? Maybe – you’re wondering if she knows about you.’ He hesitated, then handed her the crossbow. ‘Let’s pretend she doesn’t. Hold back – I’ll lead the stallion through.’

She nodded, cocking the weapon.

He looked at her. ‘How in Hood’s name did you get here?’

‘The Imperial transport that left a day after Ragstopper. This horse wasn’t out of place among Pormqual’s breeders. We, too, were caught in that cursed storm, but the only real trouble came when we had to disembark from the bay. That’s a swim I don’t want to repeat. Ever.’

The assassin’s eyes widened. ‘Hood’s breath, woman!’ He looked away, then back. ‘Why?’

She bared her teeth. ‘Can you really be that dense, Kalam? In any case, was I wrong?’

There were some barriers the assassin had never expected to be breached. Their swift crumble left him breathless. ‘All right,’ he finally said, ‘but I’ll have you know, I’m anything but subtle.’

Her brows arched. ‘You could have fooled me.’

Kalam faced the doors once again. He was armed with a single knife and had lost too much blood. Hardly what you’d call properly equipped to assassinate an Empress, but it will have to do . . . Without another word to Minala, he slipped forward, gathering the stallion’s reins. The animal’s hooves clopped loudly as they approached the old double doors.