He’d not even seen her approach, working her way along the line toward him while he dug, oblivious.

‘You need to go down further, or it won’t flower in the summer. May I show you?’

He looked around for Mero, but his slab-faced guardian had wandered away, seemingly bored of supervising drudge-work. She was beside him now, close enough to feel the gentle heat of her body, warmed by both sun and exertion. She reached across, steering his hand out of the way, shuffling round, scooping at the hard earth with her own trowel.

‘You need a deeper hole, you see?’ Then, quieter, direct to his ear. ‘Why are you here?’ A pause, then, ‘Is it for me?’

He could feel the flush rising, somewhere around the top of his chest and heading for his face. On some level he found himself ridiculous, which just made it worse. He’d faced red confessors, mercenaries, wolves, reavers, threats to life and limb. But there was something so much more unsettling about this.

She was looking away, disappointed, and an electric surge in his gut drove his mouth.

‘Yes. Maybe a little.’

She smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her attention still on the growing hole before them.

‘Is it true you come from the east?’

‘Yes.’

‘And that you’re an outlaw?’

He frowned at that. ‘I suppose so.’

‘Are you staying with us? For a long time?’

She wasn’t looking at him, but he could feel the force of her attention, her apprehension of his answer. He kept his eyes on her hands, watching her gouge and scoop the earth, thinking of Rennic’s words. Three days gone already, the year’s first moon racing toward them, their chance to alert the south before Ruumi’s war-band arrived, slipping away. He wondered how the others were faring, taking their plan to disaffected lordlings, fierce hill tribes, agents of foreign influence. How had things ended at the Gracechurch? Would the southern mercenaries heed their warning? They had to get back on the road. They had to.

He couldn’t meet her eye. ‘I think so. Yes.’

She grinned and looked up at him, her copper-flecked eyes radiating genuine joy. ‘I’m pleased to hear that. There aren’t many boys my age.’ She coughed, catching herself, knowing she’d said too much. ‘It’s always good to make new friends.’

Chel wondered where she’d heard that.

***