Vonn frowned, staring at Rafe’s back, and said no more.

They were walking down to the stream where two men waited for them, one of whom was sitting with his back to a tree, blood drenching his belly, soaking into his breeches, staining the white snow about him. He was screaming.

Might have something to do with my arrow in his gut.

Braith made an irritated sound behind him, though Camlin wasn’t sure if it was aimed at him for shooting one of his men, or at the man on the ground for making so much noise.

‘Sit,’ Braith ordered Camlin and Vonn as he dumped both of their sword-belts and Camlin’s bow and quiver against the tree, next to the straw man. When he was happy that Camlin and Vonn were both secure, Braith went and sat beside the wounded man. He unstoppered his water skin and gave the man some. He drank in short sips, panting in between with the pain.

‘Madoc, this is going to taste sweet as heaven in your mouth,’ Braith said to the warrior, ‘but when it reaches your gut it’s going to hurt like every demon in the Otherworld is trying to claw their way out of your belly.’

Madoc nodded, sweat slicking his face, his shirt sticking to his body.

‘My boot,’ Madoc breathed. ‘Some coin for my Rhian.’

Braith nodded. ‘I’ll see it gets to her.’ He lifted the water skin to Madoc’s mouth and with his other hand drew a knife from his belt.

‘You ready?’

Madoc nodded and Braith cut his throat.

‘That’s seven of my men, now, by my counting,’ Braith said, wagging his knife at Camlin.

‘Aye, that’s what I make it,’ Camlin agreed. He shrugged. ‘It’s war.’

‘So it is,’ Braith said, wiping his knife clean and sheathing it. He came and sat close to Camlin.

Not so close that I can reach him, though.

‘But this is more personal than that, between you and me.’

‘I was afraid you were going to say that.’

Braith barked a laugh.

‘You see, Cam, despite everything, you can still make me laugh. You’ve poisoned me, cut me open with this blade on your belt.’ He paused, pulled back his shirt at the neck and showed Camlin an ugly white ridge of scar tissue. ‘Hurt, that,’ Braith said.

‘Aye, well, I’ve a scar of my own from you.’ He pulled his shirt open. ‘See. You shot me. The arrow had to be pushed through. That hurt a bit, too.’

Braith shrugged. ‘Not that this is a contest, but you did dump me into the ocean for the fish to gnaw on.’ He shook his head.

Camlin smiled grimly. ‘If it helps, I did think you were dead at the time.’

Braith chuckled. ‘But the thing that hurts most, Cam, is the betrayal. I thought we were friends.’