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word hoard."
    He felt an unruly gleam of amusement tug at his mouth. He could see the small scene playing out round the campfire. Just as Alina wished to direct it
    He cut off the dangerous rush of warmth her elegantly practiced high-handedness always invoked.
    The other one, Duda, would simply have followed her. Which meant that Duda considered Cunan the Pict's reactions to his sister and his princess should be allowed to play out. Just for interest's sake.
    Duda, he would not have heard moving through the trees. Neither would she.
    "I have brought this." She was holding a leather saddlebag by its strap. "The medicine bag."
    It was perfect. There was no better pretext she could have chosen. The first white-hot reaction was to send her packing back to her guards. He suppressed it. The princess should be afforded the opportunity to play out her game as much as her brother.
    Now.
    He sat down because it was easier. He would not allow Alina the phoenix to guess how weary he was, how dangerously light-headed. He did not admit to the fever that scored its burning path through his body. He could not allow its weakness. There was no time. Too many people depended on what he did.
    And perhaps, if she could not kill him off, she might decide to impress him with her good faith and do something that could see him through all that had yet to be done.
    He watched her begin the next stage of the game.
    She began to unpack what was in the bag.

    Alina's hands shook.
    It was not a good beginning for a scarce competent healer endeavouring to inspire confidence in her patient.
    She bit her lip. He had decided not to kill her. Twice. But then he had always been cursed with too much honour. That was what it was. Nothing was going to inspire trust of her in those ice-bright, fever-bright eyes.
    But she was beyond caring about what was in his head. Not just because of the exhaustion she felt. But because there was only one clear thought she could fix on out of the dealing and double-dealing nature of her second mad flight with Brand. She had to cure the wound before it killed him.
    She scrabbled through the small hoard of medicines until she found what she sought. More precious than gold.
    "There is poppy—"
    "No."
    Her hand wavered, its unsteadiness suddenly embarrassingly obvious. It had not occurred to her he would refuse. Stupid fool that she was. He did not trust her one inch. She had set that up herself.
    Saint Dwyn. Did he not realize what was to come? How did he think he could face it if he did not… The gold-flecked eyes that held all the unabated fire that burned within, fierce beyond compare, gave her the truth.
    It was she who could not face it. She swallowed gathering sickness. Perhaps if she admitted it, perhaps if part of his decision was for pride, he might agree.
    "Then for my sake."
    "You consider I should lose my senses for your sake?"
    Northumbrians were bastards, with their double-edged words. She had forgotten quite what bastards they were. The way they struck straight through people without the need for anything so unreliable as a flying
seax
.
    She forced her mind back out of the terrifying enchanted death trap of Bamburgh and into the present.
    "Yes," she ground out, and then her voice hesitated. She could feel its constriction in her throat. "I do not… I find it difficult if… The less of the pain the sick person feels when I tend them, the easier it is for me."
    "Nay, it is too late to feel less." The eyes were gold-bright, burning. "If I will abide it, you must."
    And that was what they had agreed, from the moment the madness had begun: that they would abide the consequences of what they had done. Together. Always.
    It was she who had broken the vow.
    He began undoing the makeshift bandage bound over his sleeve, single-handedly.
    Because there was nothing else she could do, she took the ends of the cloth from his hand. She tried to concentrate only on now.
    "The sleeve will get in the way. You…you will have to