“It’s all right for the Girls’ Own,” she said. “They joined up because Vordan needs them, and when the war’s over they’ll go home. I . . . I haven’t got anywhere to go.” She tugged the collar of her uniform. “This is who I am now, for better or worse. This is my home. After the war, maybe it will be all right for a woman to keep this on, but . . . maybe not.”

Winter found her throat getting thick. She’d never put it that way before, never even thought it so bluntly. This is my home.

“I leave it to your discretion, of course,” Janus murmured, after a moment of silence. “What of Captain Verity?”

Winter took a deep breath and blew it out. “I’ve put Abby Giforte in command of the Girls’ Own, sir, and kept Jane on my staff. I’d appreciate your official endorsement of Abby’s promotion, incidentally, on the off chance that we ever get the chance to claim any of our pay.”

“Certainly. Captain Giforte—the younger Captain Giforte, I suppose I should say—seemed a most capable young woman. But it was Captain Verity I was asking about. Have you encountered difficulties with her?”

Winter hesitated, but something about Janus’ penetrating gaze made her think that trying to conceal anything from him was a lost cause. “A few, sir. But we’re working them out.”

“If it would make things easier for you, I could order her back to Vordan. I’d make it clear it wasn’t at your request.”

Winter’s breath caught. The thought of sending Jane away made her want to curl up and die on the spot, but her immediate protest froze in her throat. If it means no more days like yesterday . . . no more standing by and waiting to see if she stumbles out of the cloud of smoke, or if I’m going to find her sprawled and cold on some battlefield . . .

“No, sir,” she said after a long moment. “That won’t be necessary.”

“As you like,” Janus said. “Now, I received your report concerning the attack in Desland. You’re certain the three assassins were Penitent Damned?”

Winter blinked at the sudden change in subject. “Uh . . . no, sir, not completely certain. But they wore the obsidian masks, and all three seemed to have . . . abilities that were more than ordinary. One bore a demon for certain—I nearly devoured it with the Infernivore. I understood that only the Penitent Damned carried demons.”

“The truth is more complex, but only slightly. You haven’t seen them since?”

“No, sir.” Winter frowned. “If they wanted to kill me, on the march would have been an ideal time. Our security fell by the wayside after the rains started.”