‘I have been thinking on that, highness. On war. I have been thinking that it does not matter where the war is, or who fights it. Or whether we hold blood ties to the slayers, or not. It could well be on the other side of the world, fought by strangers, for reasons we cannot even understand. None of that matters, highness. It is our war nonetheless.’

‘How so, Yedan Narad?’

‘Because, in the end, nothing divides us. Nothing distinguishes us. We commit the same crimes, taking lives, holding ground, yielding ground, crossing blood-drenched borders – lines in the sand no different from this one here. With fires at our backs, and fires ahead – I thought I understood this sea, highness, but now I see that I did not understand it at all.’ He raised his sword and pointed its tip at the shimmering, flame-wrought surface beyond the shore. The weapon bucked and trembled in his hand, as if bound to its very own will. ‘That, my queen, is the realm of peace. We dream of swimming it, but when at last we do, we but drown.’

‘Then, O brother, you give us no hope, if war defines our existence, and peace our death.’

‘We all commit violence on ourselves, highness. It is more than just brother against brother, sister against sister, or any other combination you care to imagine. Our thoughts wage savage mayhem in our skulls, with no respite. We fight desires, wave banners of hope, tear down the standards of every promise we have dared utter. In our heads, my queen, is a world that is without peace, and by that description we define life itself.’

‘You question your purpose, brother,’ she said. ‘After all this. It is no surprise.’

‘I was a lover of men, Twilight—’

‘No. That is not you.’

Confusion took him and he almost stumbled. Drunkenly righting himself, he let the sword drop again, the point sending up a burst of sparks as it struck the sands. They walked on. He shook his head. ‘Forgive me, it nears the time.’

‘Yes. I understand, brother. The night crawls; even should we lie in sleep and so see nothing of it, still, it crawls.’

‘I would have you, my queen, uproot the spike.’

‘I know,’ she replied in a soft voice.

‘Their faces were my shame.’

‘Yes.’

‘So I cut them all down.’

‘White faces,’ she murmured. ‘Not sharing our… indecision. We are their only shadow, brother, and in that, we can never lie to them. You did what you had to do. You did what they demanded of you.’

‘I died in my sister’s arms.’

‘Not you.’

‘Are you sure, my queen?’

‘Yes.’

He halted, shoulders hunching, head bowing. ‘Highness, I must ask you – who set this world afire?’