‘You fought well,’ Fidele said. Maquin grunted his agreement. Five eagle-warriors were scattered about the clearing, eleven Vin Thalun.

‘Peritus still lives, then?’ Fidele asked.

The warrior nodded.

‘And Lykos?’

‘I do not know,’ the warrior said. ‘All was chaos.’ Pain racked him, and he gave a gurgled hiss. Maquin checked him over. Superficial wounds everywhere. Two were more serious. A deep wound in his thigh, and one in his back, a hole punching through the lower section of his cuirass. Blood made black by the twilight pulsed rhythmically. Fidele looked at Maquin, a question in her eyes.

Will he live? Maquin shrugged his answer, tore a strip of linen from his shirt and tied it tight around the warrior’s thigh. The wound in his back was another matter. If it hasn’t hit a kidney or his liver he may live. He’s already lost a lot of blood, so who knows? But he’s most likely dead anyway. The Vin Thalun on our trail will find him.

‘Help me lift him,’ Maquin said to Fidele.

Together they raised the warrior up. He was unsteady, standing only a moment unaided before his knees buckled.

‘Over here,’ Maquin said, half-carrying the young warrior into the undergrowth.

‘What are you doing?’ Fidele asked.

‘Hiding him,’ Maquin grunted, pushing through a thicket.

‘We can’t leave him – the Vin Thalun following us . . .’ Fidele said.

‘I know.’ Maquin shrugged. ‘He can’t walk. We can’t carry him, or stay. Staying means dying, and I’ll not be dying for him.’

Fidele’s face shifted. A look of horror swiftly replaced with determination. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’ll not abandon him. He is one of my people.’

Maquin laid Drusus down. ‘This is war, not wishful thinking. We stay and we’ll die. Simple as that. He’s a warrior, knows the life he’s chosen. Don’t you, lad.’

‘Aye,’ Drusus gasped. ‘You must leave, my lady.’

She looked between them.

‘No.’

‘Don’t be a fool.’

‘He is a man of Tenebral, has risked his life for this realm, for me. I’ll not just walk away from him, abandoning him to certain death.’

‘Your dying too won’t keep him alive any longer. It’s not brave, not noble, just foolish. You’re throwing away his sacrifice – their sacrifice – by dying yourself.’

Fidele looked pale, but he recognized the stubborn set of her jaw. ‘I said no. And you should remember, I am queen of this realm.’

‘Not my queen,’ Maquin growled, anger at her bubbling up. ‘Fine. Stay and die if you wish.’ He stalked away, gathered up some weapons from the dead warriors and returned to Fidele. She was sitting beside Drusus, speaking quietly to him. The warrior lay with his eyes closed, his breathing shallow.

‘My offer to you was to help you stay alive, not sit and die with you. You should come with me.’ He held out his hand.