‘Oh, aye?’ she said, and only then did he see the circles beneath her bloodshot eyes, the lines in her face. ‘Maybe he’s not the only one. Best keep him the fuck away from the rest of us, eh?’

Then she was gone, leaving only a weeping sky the colour of bruises.

***

Foss and the others had secured a cart, at least, along with an appropriately dismal-looking mule, but shelter was harder to come by – no inn would admit them in their current state, the momentary cleanliness of the Bridge House lost with so much else in the rain. They packed up what little they had into the cart and rolled off along the forest road, hunched under the persistent drizzle. Chel and Tarfel walked a long way behind, their battered faces a pulsing reminder of the company’s division.

All exhausted, they made meagre progress. Someone called a halt well before the wan light began to ebb, most likely Loveless, and as the rain finally eased they built a camp of sorts in a scrubby clearing not far from the roadside. Chel helped collect firewood, doing his best to find un-sodden branches, while Tarfel cowered beneath his cloak in the lee of the cart. Kosh and Lemon between them raised a fire, and for a moment, things seemed back to normal. Then Rennic absently called for Whisper to bag them some dinner, and the gloom descended like new rain. Eventually Loveless hefted Kosh’s augmented crossbow and strode out into the woods. Chel watched her go, feeling he should follow. They’d had no chance to speak since their moment the previous evening, and in light of what had happened since, it seemed ridiculous to dwell on.

And yet.

He met her on her return, lingering at the clearing’s edge like a smell. She met his gaze, saw the hesitation, the unease. Neither spoke, then both did:

‘Hey, about—’ ‘I wanted to—’

‘Sorry, you—’ ‘What did—’

Another silence, awkward, excruciating. Chel gritted his teeth, still not looking at her, and let it stretch until finally she spoke alone.

‘I’m sorry, cub. About last night.’

‘You don’t need to apologize. Lemon knows, we all have our digestive troubles, sometimes.’

‘No, cub. Listen.’ She put one hand on his arm, triggering memories of the night, her hands on him, her mouth on his. He shuddered, felt foolish, struggled to meet her gaze. ‘I’m sorry I did that to you. It was irresponsible. I don’t shit where I eat.’

‘What? But what about you and Rennic?’

‘That’s an arrangement, nothing more. And this isn’t about that.’

‘Hey, you don’t—’

‘Cub, listen. Please. I took advantage, I … I need to be better than this.’

Hurt bloomed somewhere within, cold bitter rage. ‘Better? Better than me?’