“You mustn’t think badly of yourself.” The Raven sat cross-legged beneath her feet, fingers drumming idly on logs. “Everybody dies, sooner or later.”

Was she really so transparent? No wonder Ebigail had twisted her so easily. “Why?” she croaked. “Why . . . are you . . . here?”

The Raven cracked a smile. “Why not? It promises to be an interesting afternoon.”

The line of king’s blue broke. Viktor didn’t blame them. Most were constables, trained for keeping peace and for containing crowds of the sort that tore and clawed at one another as they sought to escape the grove. Holding firm against the Essamere onslaught was another matter entirely.

“Hold!” he bellowed. “Stay together!”

The Essamere wedge shook itself back into shape, hearthguard moving to fill gaps emptied by ill-luck.

“Run back to her ladyship!” Izack shouted at the retreating line. “She might have spines you can borrow!”

“A little decorum, captain,” said Viktor. “These are our people.”

Izack shrugged. “Should have the sense not to fight, shouldn’t they?”

Viktor nodded. “Redress the ranks. Knights to the fore. Everyone else behind.”

Izack clasped a hand in salute. “Gladly, my lord.”

Truth was, the constabulary had held longer than he’d expected. Long enough for a new line to form. A stiffer proposition, thick with the red of Prydonis and the blue wolf of Sartorov – to say nothing of the kraikons waiting silently behind. Viktor counted a full dozen waiting on the steps of the pyre. Enough to batter his tiny army apart. Elzar had salvaged three kraikons of his own from the initial battle. It wasn’t going to be enough.

If nothing else, they’d robbed Ebigail of her audience. What had been a muster of thousands had quickly reduced to a few hundred curious or macabre souls. And the hymns had fallen silent. Viktor had never cared for hymns.

Josiri drew up in bloodied armour. “I’m surprised Ebigail’s still here.”

Viktor cast his gaze to the knot of figures on the pyre’s steps. “Why would she flee? Our deaths set her ascension hard as iron. How does it feel to live your mother’s dream?”

“Waging war against the Council on their land, not ours?” He flashed a weary smile. “I fear we’ll end as she did.”

Deep down, deeper even than his shadow, Viktor shared that fear, but he dared not say so.

“Thank you for standing with me, brother.”

Josiri stared off across the hilltop. “You stood with me first. I just wish this had ended better.”

“That’s not for us to choose. We do all that we can, and hope our labours are equal to the task. But I think Calenne would be glad to see us fighting together.”

“Perhaps.”