She lifted her cloak and tapped the hilt of a knife. She’d taken to the habit of being armed at all times. It had been Maquin’s idea.

Peritus grunted, no doubt thinking her knife would make little difference against a Vin Thalun. Maybe he is right, but I feel better for it. And I am not afraid to use it.

‘You have come here every night.’

She didn’t answer.

‘They are long overdue,’ he said.

‘That means nothing.’

‘It means something. Maybe not the worst.’ He looked at her. ‘You were Queen of Tenebral . . .’

There was a question in there, hesitant, voiceless. It said: What are you doing? How can you consort with a pit-fighter?

Because I love him. ‘Do not worry,’ she said coldly, ‘I know my duty.’ Duty has taken so much from me. My pride, my dignity, almost my life. I will not let it take Maquin from me as well. Just a little longer – I will do what I must for Tenebral, for my people. And then . . .

She reined her thoughts in, the possibility that Maquin could be lying out there dead returning to her.

A long silence grew between them, like a wide space. She felt Peritus shake his head, a ripple in the air.

‘You should not be alone,’ he said eventually.

She didn’t answer. A silence fell between them.

‘Marcellin will be here soon,’ Peritus said into the quiet.

‘Has there been any word of him?’

‘None. But he cannot be far away. We shall have justice.’ He looked at her. ‘And our revenge.’

Peritus had suffered much, seen Armatus, his oldest friend, beheaded by Lykos. And he had seen Fidele in Jerolin, with Lykos at her side. She had condemned him to death, her friend, because of Lykos’ spell. Peritus knew why.

‘I am sorry,’ she whispered.

He reached out a hand and squeezed hers. ‘You were not yourself,’ he said.

A Vin Thalun voice raised in song drifted on the breeze from the town.

‘Why are they not attacking?’ Fidele said.

Peritus shrugged. ‘They have tried to storm the walls, and they have tried stealth. Easier to starve us out.’

‘But what of Marcellin? They must know he is coming.’

‘Aye.’ Peritus’ face creased in a frown, moonlight picking out ridges and making deep valleys of shadow on his lined face. ‘That troubles me, too.’

A shout suddenly went up from the darkness beyond the wall. A clash of iron, a scream.

Feet drummed on the stairwell as more warriors took to the wall. Peritus had his sword drawn. Krelis suddenly loomed over them, a dozen warriors filling the stairs behind him.

‘What’s going on, then?’ he asked them. ‘An attack?’ He sounded hopeful.

‘Don’t think so,’ Peritus murmured, eyes scanning the shadows. ‘Hard to tell, too dark.’