‘I will never forget this, or the countless other times you have risked your life for me. If there is ever a time when this is over, and I am Queen of Ardan . . .’ She hesitated. ‘I will not forget this.’

Camlin shrugged. ‘I’m not doing it for a reward.’

‘Why are you doing it, Camlin? A brigand from the Darkwood. You do not even come from Ardan, but from Narvon.’

He looked at Halion, Baird, then Vonn, finally back to her.

‘Because,’ he said with a shrug, ‘you make me want to be a better man. Not just you, but all of you. Marrock, Dath, Corban. Never really had friends before, just fellow thieves. Doesn’t make for a good night’s sleep.’

Edana nodded to herself, as if hearing an answer to a long-asked question.

‘Come back to us,’ she said.

‘I’ll try my very hardest t’do that.’ He grinned.

‘And I want you to take someone with you. Halion, Baird or Vonn, my most trusted shieldmen.’

‘No need,’ Camlin said with a shake of his head.

‘I think there is. And even if there isn’t – it will help me sleep better at night. Please, do it for me.’

Camlin looked between them, at Baird’s slightly wild grin – a good man to have beside me in a fight, though I think he may pick a few that don’t need fighting – Vonn, as serious as a man standing at his mother’s cairn, and Halion, calm, steadfast – keeps his head in a scrap, a strategic man, better with a blade than most, maybe better’n Braith, even.

‘I’ll take Vonn, then,’ he said.

Don’t like the thought of him left around Edana without me here to keep an eye on him.

Edana smiled and Vonn nodded, more to himself than Camlin.

‘Right, I’d better be off, ’fore I lose any more light.’

Edana stretched onto her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. She turned to walk away and they heard footsteps rustling through the grass and reeds. Everybody’s hand went to a sword hilt, including Edana’s.

A shadow appeared amongst the reeds, a figure stepping out before them.

‘Ah, I thought you were here somewhere,’ Lorcan said. His eyes sought out Edana. ‘I need to talk to you about something.’

Camlin lay on his belly upon a slight hillock, reeds a slatted screen before him, looking down upon a willow beside a twisting stream. Three arrows were stuck into the soft earth before him, his bow lying beside him. A figure sat leaning against the willow tree, wrapped tight in a cloak, head drooped forward onto his chest, seemingly asleep. Yellow hair stuck out from a pulled-up hood. A spear leaned against the willow tree, just a handspan from the figure’s fingers.

‘How long do we have to lie here?’ Vonn whispered. ‘I can’t feel my feet.’

Camlin ignored him.

He does have a point.