‘You know …’ The voice came from Tarfel, looking up now, an empty wine pitcher lying flat across his knees. ‘My birthday party. My proper one. Would have been like this. Bigger, though.’

Chel stirred himself. ‘Well, Tarf, Loveless did say—’

‘Courtesans!’ said the prince emphatically. ‘Concubines! Companions!’

The friendly girl offered the prince a beaming smile. ‘Perhaps, master, you would enjoy a private party this evening?’

Tarfel stared up at her, purple-lipped, his bloodshot eyes offset against his ghastly pallor. ‘You know what? I would!’

The smile widened. ‘Very good, master. Please, take my hand and follow me. How many friends should attend?’

Tarfel disappeared from view, arm-in-arm with the friendly girl. ‘I think …’ came his voice as he skipped away, ‘at least four.’ Kosh watched them go, her face very still. After a moment, she got up and followed.

Chel wanted to go too. An image of Rasha fluttered into his mind, Rasha in the rain, Rasha’s lips on his. He very much wanted to make the most of the Bridge House’s hospitality. All he had to do was stand and walk, something he did countless times a day.

Instead he sat and watched the others vanish from view, his mouth twisted and sullen. A suppressed belch resurfaced. ‘You’re sure it’s safe to, you know, let them go off on their own?’

Lemon and Loveless offered flat stares. ‘We’re all friends here, remember?’ Loveless said. ‘The scumbags and vagabonds are downstairs.’

‘Fewer guards up here, too,’ Lemon added, her speech slurring. ‘Cos we’re all trusted folk, see? Those of good stature. Standing. Stature.’

The friendly boy hovered still. ‘Would anyone else care for a celebration? Perhaps you, master?’ He rested one gentle hand on Foss’s shoulder. The big man swallowed and, with great care, removed the hand.

‘Thank you, friend, but I am just fine.’

The boy smiled, nodded, and excused himself.

‘How …’ Foss sighed, then paused, face clouded.

‘How the fuck do you think, Foss-bot?’ Loveless chuckled. ‘They’re professionals, no different from us.’

‘Aye, well, they’re a little different, though,’ Lemon said.

‘Admittedly, I imagine they get less blood in their hair. I’d certainly hope so, anyway.’

‘You know,’ Lemon said, then paused to drain the last of her wine. ‘I’m surprised you’re not taking them up on their offers.’

Loveless scoffed. ‘I don’t pay for it.’

‘It’s all-inclusive tonight, Ell! Quids in!’

‘You know what I mean.’

Lemon poured out another cup. ‘Not sure I do, honestly. I mean, you generally hop aboard anything with a winkle and a heartbeat, eh?’

Chel expected Loveless to anger, to snipe, but she seemed to keep her humour. ‘Like to think I’m a little choosier than that.’

‘You get your pick, though, eh? Any fella you fancy?’ Chel felt suddenly uncomfortable.

‘I’d rather break noses than hearts.’