‘Just be honest,’ she replied. ‘Seven orphaned siblings, their parents two of the Imperium’s greatest heroes. They are raised by the schola progenium to become the finest servants of the Throne. Each wildly different but exceptional in their own way. The charismatic priest, unflappable commissar and maverick fighter ace. Such an inspiring story. It’s what drew you here, right?’

‘If I have offended you–’

‘Everything offends me,’ she spat, rising. ‘Because I am Lucille von Shard, the brash fighter ace who rarely toes the line but always gets the job done. That’s what they chose to make me. And that’s why I take offence.’

She turned back to the fire, throwing a handful of dried leaves onto the blaze. It flared as though doused in promethium, releasing a plume of smoke, most of which wafted from the cave’s entrance.

‘Is that wise?’ I asked.

‘Unless you would prefer to freeze to death?’

‘Won’t it attract the orks?’

‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘Once the sun has risen, they will come for us.’

‘And then what?’

‘I will defeat them, obviously,’ she replied, her back to me. ‘It should only be a dozen or so, no match for the esteemed flight commander Lucille von Shard.’

‘Even without an aircraft?’

‘I have my blade and my wits. Actually, where is my sword?’

‘By the fire.’

‘Ah. Thank you!’ she said, retrieving the weapon. ‘For a moment I was concerned.’

‘When did you last wield it?’ I asked as she fastened the sabre to her hip.

‘All the time.’

‘Really?’

‘Of course. Opening bottles, removing stray threads, carving expletives in the walls of the governor’s mansion.’

‘I meant in combat.’

‘Not often. It’s darn difficult to get close enough when flying. But I was trained by the finest fencing instructors of the schola progenium. I even came sixth in duelling one year.’

‘Sixth?’

‘Yes, though there was a sickness going round. Still, I’m sure I’ll pick it up again fairly quickly. You hold it by the handle, right?’

‘Where did you get that sword?’ I asked, for in the firelight I could see the scabbard was marked by the von Shard crest.

‘It was my father’s. Not his best one, but the balance is tolerable.’

I could not tell if she was mocking me, or was broken by what had happened. She wore a smile, but it was worse than her usual sneer. There was a cold resignation to it, as if she no longer cared for our fates.

My own expression must have been similar.

‘You look worried,’ she said. ‘I know why.’

‘Do you?’

‘Of course. You fear that you will be unable to capture my victory. Well, fear not. I found your little friend.’

She reached into the shadows, dragging free the grime-strewn seer-skull, holding it by the cables running from its spine.