‘The bargain is still grossly in your favour,’ Lord Guantes said, his aura of power too close for comfort. Irene deliberately glanced away from him, to Lady Guantes, who was also uncomfortably near. ‘But maybe we can negotiate. With a player like you on the other side, one might even consider long-term arrangements—’

‘It will do,’ Lady Guantes said, cutting him off. She took a deep breath. ‘My love, we must do what we can, with the options available. I recommend taking Miss Winters’ deal.’

‘Perhaps …’ Lord Guantes began.

And then Sterrington moaned in pure agony. Irene glanced at her automatically - and saw that Lord Guantes had leaned down to grind his thumb into Sterrington’s mangled hand. That was when Lady Guantes made her move. The woman slammed into Irene, covering the space between them faster than Irene would have thought possible. She knocked Irene to the ground, pinning her there with her body weight. Irene fought to keep a grip on her knife as Lady Guantes stretched across her, but was viciously elbowed in the stomach and struggled just to breathe. Then Lady Guantes slammed her head against the floor, effectively gagging her with a forearm across her mouth. Her left hand held Irene’s right wrist down, keeping the knife out of play.

Irene bit down and tasted Lady Guantes’ blood.

Lady Guantes grimaced, her face barely a foot away, triumph flaring in her eyes as she pushed down harder. ‘Stop wasting your time, Miss Winters. You’re no better than everyone else - all too easily distracted. My love, could you please come and knock her out?’

Irene bit down harder and brought her left hand up, wrenching at Lady Guantes’ right arm. But the other woman had the advantage in strength, weight and leverage. Irene could hear Lord Guantes’ unhurried steps as he approached, above Sterrington’s moaning. She struggled furiously, but she just couldn’t loosen the other woman’s grip. Then Lord Guantes stood above her, choosing his moment. Irene tried to jerk her head sideways, to free her face so that she could speak, but Lady Guantes held her pinned.

But at the edge of Irene’s vision Vale moved, jack-knifing his legs around to slam sideways into Lord Guantes, rolling with the motion to put his weight into it. Lord Guantes fell forward with an indignant grunt, slumping against Lady Guantes and Irene. Lady Guantes pitched off-balance, and Irene managed to wrench her head to one side. Blood from Lady Guantes’ arm ran from her mouth, and Irene spat it out as she screamed, ‘Fae, get off me!’

The words came without thinking, from a place of fury and terror, but they worked. The Language caught the Guantes and flung them both off Irene - knocking them away, to leave her sprawled on the carpet, trying to get her breath. She saw Vale struggling to his knees, having somehow manoeuvred his bound hands in front of him, but Kai was still unconscious. Irene’s hand tightened on the hilt of her knife as she pushed herself to her knees. Then Lord Guantes was suddenly in front of her and had her by the throat. He gripped her neck where the chain had attempted to strangle her, its marks still raw, and dragged her to her feet, forcing Irene’s head back so that she had to meet his eyes, but she couldn’t get a word out. And she couldn’t get any breath in. She could feel her pulse hammering in her brain, rattling faster than the Train’s wheels - as his gaze held her like a pin spearing a butterfly. He had all the power now.

Yet she still had a knife.

Irene brought it up and forward, not fighting the grip on her throat, but moving into it instead. It was a sharp knife, a good one, and she slid it up and into Lord Guantes’ chest, under the ribs and towards the heart. It was as if someone had drawn her a chart to follow. It was the way this particular fairytale ended.

His grip loosened and she fell forward again, every breath painful. She heard Lady Guantes screaming, but it was merely a background to her own panting for air.

Then Vale was beside her. She could see the bindings on his wrists. A spark of common sense brought her back to herself, and she rasped painfully, ‘Bindings, leave the wrists and ankles of Vale and Kai.’

Lady Guantes was kneeling on the bloodied floor, cradling her husband in her arms. His eyes were closed and he wasn’t moving, the hilt of the knife still protruding from his chest. It looked as if it shouldn’t be there. Undignified. Somehow human.

Irene rose to her feet, with Vale supporting her. She wanted to disclaim responsibility, say I tried to offer him a deal, but she couldn’t deny the reality of the scene before her. She had blood on her neck from Lord Guantes’ glove, and blood on her hand from her own fatal blow. She could feel it, wet and sticky.

Lady Guantes slowly rested her husband’s head on the floor and eased his right glove from his hand, folding it and tucking it into her bodice. Tears ran down her face, but she was too calm - calm enough to make Irene’s stomach clench in revulsion. ‘I’m not going to fight and get myself killed,’ she said. ‘But this is not over.’

Irene wanted to say something that would somehow ease those tears and that dreadful calm and stop a private vendetta. But even the Language wasn’t enough. ‘Leave,’ she said. ‘We won’t stop you.’

Lady Guantes nodded. She rose to her feet. ‘Sterrington?’

‘Ah, no, madam.’ Sterrington was crouched in the seat at the back of the compartment, looking incapable of action either for or against anyone. ‘I regret I must withdraw my service. This game is too rich for my tastes.’

Lady Guantes nodded. ‘Au revoir, then. Miss Winters. Mr Vale. Dragon.’ She stepped across to the door, her gloved hand on the handle. ‘I won’t bother setting my guards on you. There seems little point now, and I’d rather leave you to far more lethal pursuers. And they’ll be upon you very soon.’ She smiled then, and it was chilling. ‘If you survive them, then we will certainly meet again.’