[[You see?]] Her tone grew stern. [[That’s precisely what Revekah meant. And you’ve only broken one. Eskavord may be gone, but the Southshires is free. Not just from Malatriant, but from the Council.]]

“But for how long?”

She pulled away. [[If you persist, I’ll throw you down the hill. You have a seat on the Council. Even friends, if half of what you’ve said is true. Use them.]]

“You mean . . . leave the Southshires for Tressia?”

She shrugged. [[Why not? You’re hardly the Duke of Eskavord any longer.]]

Josiri winced at Anastacia’s bluntness, but her wisdom shone bright even through sorrow. With Malachi’s help he could do more – far more – for his people than he could as the master of a scorched ruin. Grief was a privilege he’d not earned.

“And you’d come with me? Life’s different in Tressia. You’ll be on display in a way you’ve never known here.”

She slid her arm through his. [[Let them stare. I’m worth it.]]

Viktor set his pack to his shoulder and stared back across the deserted camp. Most of the soldiers had gone. Those who remained were out in the ashen fields, aiding the proctors in their labours. It was better that way. He’d never been one for fanfare and ceremony, and never less than today. The dead of the pyres would stand witness. He doubted their eyes would ever leave him.

He looked up and found Rosa staring at him. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just that I don’t remember the last time I saw you out of uniform.”

He stared along the open road and offered no reply. It felt no less strange to him. The travelling leathers didn’t . . . Well, they didn’t feel right. But uniforms were for soldiers, and he wasn’t a soldier any longer.

“You’ve freed Melanna Saranal?” he asked at last.

“She left at dawn,” Rosa replied stiffly. “I let her have the sword, but not the bow. I still say we should have kept her. A princessa is a valuable bargaining piece.”

“Josiri would only have let her go. Better I take the blame for that, too. You have my written orders?”

Rosa nodded tersely. “I do.”

“And you’ll present them to the Council?”

“I will not. We took this decision together.”

He laughed under his breath. Did guilt or friendship lie beneath her defiance? “There’s no point us both becoming pariahs. Let the blame fall on me.”

She folded her arms. “I can’t do that.”

“You’re a good woman, Roslava Orova. The Republic’s fortunate to have you.”

“To have us both.”