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And never was there a name more apt.

Corrigan whistled through his teeth and shoved his would-be admirers away. I knew without having to look around that this meant our employer was approaching.

‘Ah, Silord Cade, Silord Corrigan,’ Ascendant Lucien said graciously.

I shot Green a look so he’d know this wasn’t a contradiction of my earlier injunction. Lucien was just showing us how magnanimous he could be. By nightfall, you could be certain one of the soldiers would have mistakenly referred to us as ‘silords’ and Lucien would have them crucified for it to make sure everyone remembered the rules.

‘Your stratagem worked just as you predicted, Ascendant Lucien,’ I said, swallowing the bile engendered by having to compliment this silver-haired, alabaster-faced moron who couldn’t plan his way out of a privy. On the other hand, a little arse-kissing after a victory does help loosen the purse strings.

Lucien gave me that smile of his– the one that had already kept me up several nights during this campaign contemplating murdering him and switching sides. I might have, too, but there are rules to the game we play. Breaking a contract can damn your soul faster than razing a dozen villages.

‘And you executed the plan flawlessly,’ Lucien enthused, always determined to best me, even in flattery. ‘Such skill and loyalty deserves recognition. . . and reward.’

A dozen of his private guard– who were, so far as I could tell, just regular soldiers wearing shinier armour beneath their gaudy white-and-gold tabards– marched smartly up to us in two columns, escorting a group of what any decent person would have to call boys and girls. They were clean and well-dressed in fresh silver-white gowns, which made me feel sick, because it meant they were here for a purpose.

‘For my wonderists!’ Lucien declared, drawingoohsandahhsfrom hard-bitten soldiers who were in no way impressed by this act of perversity.

The boys and girls smiled at us with every part of their faces but their eyes, which betrayed them. I grinned as wide as I could without letting what was left of my integrity spew from my mouth.

Corrigan put a collegial hand on my shoulder and squeezed hard enough to make the bones creak. This was his way of keeping me from throttling our beloved employer then and there.

The Lords Celestine, benevolent rulers of the Auroral realms, rely on their human worshippers to enact their policies upon the Mortal plane. Some of these agents act as judges to punish heretical crimes; others, like Lucien, ‘spread the Auroral song of devotion and self-sacrifice’. Some are even raised in monastic institutions to believe that their own spiritual fulfilment can come about only by giving themselves utterly– ineverysense of the word– to whomever they are gifted by their religious leaders. These lucky boys and girls are known as thesublime. It’s said there’s nothing you can do to a sublime– not even murder them– that won’t fill them with righteous bliss. It’s all consensual, of course, as long as you’re a piece of human garbage who thinks teenagers dream of becoming your playthings.

‘The Ascendant’s cunning in battle is rivalled only by his generosity,’ I said, and though I doubted I managed to keep the disgust and nausea from my voice, Lucien nonetheless nodded graciously.

‘One each,’ he said, wagging a finger at the others among our little cadre of mercenary wonderists, ‘but for my captains, mychancerCade Ombra and mythundererCorrigan Blight, I offer two!’

While a centuries-old citadel fell behind us, crushing men and women who, if not innocent, at least deserved something better out of life than being squashed to death beneath the rubble, those on our side clapped daintily as if we were at a tea party and His Most Gracious Ascendancy had just given a toast.

My fellow wonderists made their picks of the most comely, except Corrigan, who, noting my glare, gave me a slight nod to acknowledge that whatever pleasure he might have taken wouldn’t be worth the consequences I would dish out later to any among our number who sampled too deeply of our employer’s magnanimous ‘gift’.

Unable to risk giving offence by turning down the generous gesture, I chose the two most frightened of the group: a young boy of about eleven – who Lucien kept leering at – and the girl of seventeen hugging him protectively as if that would do either of them any good.

Ascendant Lucien shot me a curiously satisfied look, which I met with one of those smiles men like him recognise as the enjoyment of terror over beauty.

‘Excellent choices,’ His Ascendancy said to me. Then he raised his arms wide to the others. ‘Revel tonight, my loyal followers, for tomorrow, we burn every last one of the false Archon Belleda’s followers on the stake!’

‘But Your Ascendancy,’ I said, probably louder than I should have, ‘our contract was to induce Archon Belleda’s people tocapitulateto your rule, not kill them– already they raise her flag upside down to signal their surrender.’

Lucien’s shoulders rose and fell wearily, as if to say he was just as disappointed in this recent development as I was. ‘Alas,’ he said, turning to leave. ‘They waited too long.’

This was my cue to shut up, but I made one last appeal. ‘They worship the Aurorals, as do you. Surely the Lords Celestine would nev—?’

‘The Lords Celestine have sanctioned my ruling in this matter,’ Lucien informed me, adding a gravel to his voice which hadn’t been there a second ago. ‘Do you wish to questiontheirjudgement? Perhaps you have some special relationship with the Aurorals that gives you a deeper insight into their wishes?’

‘Of course not, Ascendancy,’ Corrigan said, casually driving the second knuckle of his forefinger into my spine. ‘Cade here’s just addled from the battle. All that Fortunal magic, you know. Makes him forget himself– but only temporarily.’

Lucien gave a gracious chuckle before leading the procession of happy soldiers, wonderists and soon-to-be miserable sublimes on their way, leaving me and Corrigan standing there listening to the cries of the dying behind us.

‘Don’t fucking say it,’ I warned him.

He kept his mouth shut, but his expression made it clear that this wasn’t our fight, and that if I couldn’t summon the self-discipline to keep my mouth shut, he’d do it for me. We were mercenaries, not heroes. Wars almost always end with a good old-fashioned massacre, whether by steel or by spell.

I returned him a look that said I understood completely, would heed his warning to keep quiet, but also that Ascendant Lucien was going to meet with an unfortunate accident tonight, and so would anyone who tried to get in my way.

Chapter 3

Necessary Cruelties