“Listen,” Flannan said, dropping his tone to a conspiratorial murmur. “I don’t have to use this knife. Not if you’re sensible and cooperate. You could still come with me. Face up to him. Isn’t that what you want, to speak your piece in public?” He took a quick step forward, feinted with the knife. I took another step back.

“Look at it another way.” I was all cold sweat, my heart fighting to escape my chest. “This is your second chance. Make the right choice this time. No more killing, no more lies. Be the man you were before, the good man. Renounce Mathuin and his evil. Make that story you told me reality. I will help you.” I wasn’t so bad at lies myself. “There must be a way to get your family to safety.”

“There is no way. It’s too late. Mathuin’s got eyes and ears everywhere. How can you ask me to stand up against him when it means my little girls will suffer?”

“How can I ask? Because that’s just what Cass did. Remember him? Cass, your dearest friend. Cass who died with our son in his arms.” I met his gaze steadily, my head held high. And if my voice was like iron, my heart was full of tears.

“That’s not fair!” Flannan said on a furious sob. “Don’t make me do this, Saorla! Give yourself up. Come on, now—” He made a sudden lunge, shot out his free hand and grabbed my wrist. I saw him draw in a deep breath, as if to steady himself for what must be done. His eyes like death. The knife in his other hand, ready to strike. Cass. Brennan. Grim.

Something huge and dark loomed behind him. A pair of large hands closed around his neck. There was an unpleasant crunching sound, the grip on my wrist was released, and Flannan fell limp to the ground, leaving me staring into the eyes of a very unwell-looking Grim.

“You’re alive,” I said, stupidly. Don’t burst into tears, Blackthorn. Keep control of yourself. A pox on it, I was trembling as if I had a palsy.

“Seems that way.” Grim crumpled suddenly to his knees, his hand against his left shoulder. “Think I might be bleeding a bit.”

I stepped over the lifeless body of my childhood friend. The man who would have killed me. Suddenly I was not weak and shaky, but so angry I wanted to scream. The bastard! The godforsaken poxy apology for a man! I should have sunk the ax in his head when I had the chance.

“Let me look,” I said to Grim. “What happened? He said you attacked him.”

“Hah! If I’d attacked him, he’d be dead. I woke up sudden. Head foggy after the mead. He was right there, leaning over me, knife in his hand. Didn’t know if you were dead or alive. I rolled out of the way just as he struck. He got me in the shoulder, just here.”