“No.” Jane sounded suddenly urgent, and she leaned in. “Winter, listen to me. This is our chance to get out of this, don’t you see? You, me, everyone in the Girls’ Own. De Ferre wants to be rid of us. We could be done with this, done with war and marching and dying.”

“And do what?”

“Whatever we want! Go back to Vordan, or out into the country. Settle down and fucking raise pigs, if we want to. Please. I know he’s got his hooks in deep, but listen to me.” Jane was crying now. “This is the only chance we’re going to get. If we don’t get them out now, every one of those girls out there is going to end up like Chris or Min or any of the others. Because he’s not going to stop.”

“I can’t do it,” Winter said.

“That’s Janus talking. You can! We can lose ourselves so thoroughly that not even the Black Priests will be able to find us. I know how. We—”

“It’s not that.” Winter shook her head. “It’s not about Janus, not really. Think about it, Jane. Even if de Ferre let us go, what about the rest of the army? How long until he marches them on another suicide mission? Or until the Directory sends someone even worse?”

“Fuck the army. Fuck the Directory. Fuck all of them. It is not your responsibility, don’t you understand? You don’t have to care.” Jane sucked in a long, shuddering breath. “Just because you weren’t brave enough to save me doesn’t mean you have to save the whole world to make up for it.”

There was a long, pregnant pause.

“I’m sorry,” Jane said. She curled in on herself, head cowed. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry. Winter, please—”

There was a knock at the tent pole.

“Sir?” Bobby said from outside. “Sevran and Cyte are here, and Abby’s on her way.”

“Please,” Jane whispered. “Please.”

Winter looked at Jane in her blue uniform, red hair in gorgeous disarray, eyes bloodshot and sparkling with tears.

“She sees you pulling away from her,” Abby had said. “Into this world of flags and drums and cannon, and she doesn’t think she can follow.”

“You’ve fallen in love with Janus bet fucking Vhalnich.”

You don’t have to care.

But I can’t help it, can I?

“I can’t,” Winter said in a very small voice.

“Sir?” Bobby said again.

Jane stood up, rubbing furiously at her eyes. Winter held out a hand, but she batted it aside as she stalked past, out through the tent flap and past the startled group outside. Winter’s hand dropped to the table and lay there like a dead thing.

“Sir?” Bobby said hesitantly. “Winter?”

Winter swallowed, and found her voice.