“I don’t like our chances.”

“What are our chances?”

“We don’t have any,” Skulduggery admitted. “Do you think you can take Craven on your own?”

“No.”

“Me neither. Do you want to leave him to me, then, and you can take her?”

“I like that idea even less.”

“I don’t blame you.”

She sighed. “We’re going to get killed, aren’t we?”

“It looks likely. Our only hope is a surprise attack.”

“They’re looking right at us.”

“Dammit.”

Skulduggery straightened up. “We have discussed the situation,” he said to them, “and decided that it would be in everyone’s best interests for me to fight you, Melancholia, and for both Cleric Craven and Valkyrie to stand back and cheer or boo as they see fit.”

Valkyrie grabbed his arm. “What are you doing?”

“We can’t win this,” he said softly. “And I would rather not watch you getting killed alongside me.”

“Well, I’m not going to watch you getting killed, either!”

“And yet I’m the one who said it first, so there’s precious little you can do about it.”

“Who made up that rule?”

“I did, just now.”

“We accept your proposal,” Melancholia called across to them. “But after I kill you, I reserve the right to kill her.”

“By which time I shall be past caring,” Skulduggery said. He slipped off his jacket. His gun hung heavy in the shoulder holster, but he didn’t reach for it. He folded the jacket, pressed it into Valkyrie’s arms. “Keep this as something to remember me by.”

“I’m not going to just stand by and do nothing,” she said through gritted teeth.

“You can, as I said, cheer my name, if you want.”

“You must have some kind of plan, even a really bad one.”

“Plans are like buses,” he said. “Sometimes they just don’t turn up when you need one.”

He started down towards the cavern floor. “I’ve enjoyed our time together, Valkyrie,” he said over his shoulder. “You are quite a remarkable girl.”

There were a hundred things she needed to say to him, needed to tell him, needed him to know. There were a thousand words she needed to speak, needed to whisper, needed him to hear. But she stayed quiet, and watched him descend. She’d tell him afterwards. When all this was done, when they’d saved the day and were joking about it on the drive home, that’s when she’d tell him. They had time. No matter how scared she was for him right now, they always had time.

He reached the cavern floor, and Melancholia floated down on a gentle wave of shadows. They faced each other.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” she said.

“I dare say I’m not,” Skulduggery responded.