“I’m sorry,” said Rikke softly. She wasn’t smiling any more. “Sorry I didn’t come to help. Sorry I broke my word. It hurts me, to see you hurt. Can’t blame you if you don’t believe it. Can’t blame you if you don’t care. But I’m sorry.”

Leo felt the sting of tears in his eyes. He hadn’t realised how badly he’d wanted to hear it. He wanted to say he was sorry, too. Take her hand. Kiss her cheek. Be her friend. The dead knew he needed one. The way they had been long ago, sitting up in the rafters of her father’s hall.

But those children were long gone. Leo hadn’t chosen to make himself fearsome, but that was what the times demanded. For the sake of the country, his family, his wife. Whether they thanked him or not. Softness now was weakness. Weakness now was death. He could see no way back.

A chill breeze whipped the feathers on the ladies’ hats, made the torch flames flash and flicker.

“Sorry won’t bring my leg back, will it?” he snapped. “It won’t bring Jin back, or Antaup, or all the others who died that day.”

She glanced at him sharply from under the brim of her hat. “Really? All Tricky Rikke’s fault? I didn’t make you turn rebel. I didn’t talk you into fighting a battle. I didn’t put the spur to your horse on the day.”

“You sent a bloody letter to Orso, though!” He saw Jurand look over, tried to bring his voice down and failed. “I fought for you, I risked my life for you, and you betrayed me!”

He’d been hoping for more guilt. Instead he got an angry snort. “What was I supposed to do, laugh along while you sold Uffrith to Stour? See everything my father worked for—”

“What?” snapped Leo.

Rikke narrowed her eyes, the tattoos on her forehead twisting as she frowned. Somewhere in the distance there was a soft rumble of thunder. “Your wife stabbed me in the back the first chance she got. Bought the Great Wolf’s help with my home.” Here was a part of the story Savine had conveniently left out. Leo stared over at his wife, standing beside the Great Machinist in her usual dazzling white, and found her looking back. Studying them. Trying to gauge what they might be saying, and how to turn it to her advantage. “You didn’t know that?” asked Rikke.

Leo shut his eyes. By the dead, had he learned nothing? Of course he hadn’t persuaded Stour to follow him to the Union out of brotherly feeling. Of course Savine struck a deal. And of course she’d done it behind his back. Rain had started spitting down, white streaks frozen in the torchlight. Servants struggled with portable awnings as the wind picked up. A woman chased after a lost hat as it tumbled across the lawns.

“No.” He bit off every word. “I did not know that.” He glowered over at Savine again, but she wasn’t even looking now. Laughing gracefully at some joke of Curnsbick’s, as if Leo’s pain didn’t matter a shit to her either way.