At last, they crossed inside the ring of lanterns, and the wall of restless king’s blue uniforms. All of them facing outwards.

“Still time to change your mind, Halvor.”

She snorted tiredly. “And waste all their hard work? Look how pretty they’ve made it.”

The pyre was decidedly not pretty. It had been thrown together from fallen boughs, spare lumber and broken furniture, then packed with twigs and leaves gathered from the grounds. And planted at the centre, a beam salvaged from the wreckage of the manor’s tower.

“Then we’ll wait,” said Kurkas. “I’ll have them pull it apart and build it up again. Lumestra knows the bloody thing looks like it’ll come down with a gust of wind.”

Halvor shook her head. “No. She’ll be back before then, and I’ll be gone.”

“So what? We chained her up before. This’ll work no matter who’s holding the reins.”

“So it won’t be my choice any longer. It’ll be something done to me. And I want it to be my choice, Kurkas. I want to know I hurt her.”

He winced away his selfishness and gazed into the flickering brazier beside the pyre. Better to send an enemy to the flames than a friend, but it wasn’t his choice. However deep Malatriant had her talons into Eskavord, it wouldn’t stop there. Might be it couldn’t be stopped at all, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t try.

“Brask? You heard her.”

The lieutenant helped Halvor onto the pyre. Another necessity, this one borne of Kurkas’ status as a one-armed and practically one-legged man. He watched as the lieutenant drew Halvor’s wrists behind the makeshift stake and set the shackles in place. Could he have done the same, had he been called to it?

He hoped never to find out.

Too soon, Brask withdrew, and strode from the ring of lanterns.

“You ready, Halvor?” asked Kurkas.

“You don’t have to stay.”

“Bugger that. With you to the end.”

So saying, he pulled a brand from the brazier. It felt heavier than it should, but he knew the weakness wasn’t in his arm, but in his heart.

“For the Phoenix, Captain Halvor.”

Her lips broke into a broad grin. For a moment she was again the defiant woman who’d fought so hard to kill him, and striven with equal fervour to save his life. What was that Thrakkian saying? Enemies made the finest friends.

“For the Phoenix, Captain Kurkas.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Kurkas thrust the brand into the pyre.

“Father!”

Melanna sat bolt upright, heart hammering at her ribs. The distant scream fell away into the murk of scattered dream, revealed not as her father’s – not even belonging to a single voice – but a chorus of strangers, howling in agony.