The guards proceeded to escort her to the camp, barely speaking throughout the journey. Isabel felt sicker with every passing hour.

It was dark when they finally arrived, and two torches burned either side of the gate.

‘Incoming!’ called out one of the guards as they neared the entrance to the camp.

A moment later, Isabel heard the scrape of the drawbar being removed, and the gate split down the middle. They opened it wide enough for the horses to slip through before immediately closing behind them.

‘Tell the executioner that Lady Isabel is here,’ the man said to the guard inside.

Isabel stopped her horse and asked the man, ‘How many dead?’

He looked her up and down before replying. ‘Eight.’

She gripped the pommel of the saddle. ‘Eight?’ Three more people had died waiting for her to arrive.

The drawbar slid back into place behind her, and she followed the waiting guards. She was aware of the prisoners watching her as she made her way to the tents at the back of the camp but did not dare look in their direction. She was too afraid of what she might see on their faces. They knew exactly who she was and what had taken place in her absence.

Hodge emerged from his tent when he heard the horses, eyes locking on her. She had no idea what to expect from him, whether he would be beside himself with remorse or lost in his own rage. His eyes moved slowly over her, taking in her appearance from head to toe.

‘What on earth are you wearing?’ he asked, sounding almost repulsed. ‘You look like an absolute peasant.’

She had given no thought to what she was wearing or how he would react to seeing her dressed like a wastelander. Of course he would not like it. He had tried so hard to erase that part of her. She did not bother replying.

He walked over to her horse, offering his hand. She stared down at it, feeling disgust at the thought of touching him. But this was the choice she had made, to return to him, to appease him until the gate was opened for all to leave. She could make this hard or easy on herself. So she took his hand and dismounted.

When her feet touched the ground, Hodge turned her to face him, looking deep into her eyes. ‘Your actions have driven me to places I never thought I would go. I did what I had to. I hope you understand that.’

Again, she said nothing.

His soft, clammy hand enclosed hers, and he led her into his tent, gesturing for her to sit at the table.

‘I would prefer to stand as I have been sitting for hours.’

He watched her a moment. ‘There is something different about you.’

She swallowed.