Irenya closed her eyes and listened to the rhythm of Mikey’s breathing. He had fallen asleep quickly, having extracted a promise that she would not move from the camp-bed alongside him. Exhausted though she was, sleep would not come. Every muscle ached and her heart was still beating too fast. The reek of smoke and scorching flesh managed to seep into the tent through eyelet holes, but she could no longer hear the distant crackle of flames from the pyres. Soon the smell would fade, and the tents would fill with the living.
Earlier, Aldine had given Irenya her version of the events. She finished with her husband’s right to be Piro’s executioner, saying, ‘After all, the man had illegally marched his soldiers from north to south through our princedom.’ Aldine’s anger rose in the telling. ‘An
