wounded her.
‘You’re an ace. Working a shop full of jokers. Working with me for forty years and ya never told me. Never told me we were alike. Both of us infected. And working for MI7 …’ He shook his head. When he looked at her again, it was with disgust.
‘What exactly would you have had me do?’ she asked. She tried to keep the pleading out of her voice. She had nothing to be ashamed of, after all. She’d saved all of them and protected the Queen for decades. He had no right to judge her.
‘You had forty years to tell me the truth!’ he yelled. ‘I thought I knew you!’
‘Well, I’ve told you now.’ It sounded weak even to her ears.
‘Because you had to.’ It was an accusation.
‘No,’ she said, reaching out to him. He recoiled. ‘Because I wanted to. Because …’
‘I don’t care,’ he said, suddenly weary, slumping in his chair. ‘You hid yourself from me. You pretended to be something you’re not. I don’t know who you are. I’m not certain I want to know you.’
‘You’re being ridiculous,’ she said defensively. ‘I’m me. You know me.’
‘No, Constance, I don’t. You’ve killed a man – one that needed killing – but even so. And you’ve been working for MI7, as dirty an organization as there is. And you’re an ace. How pathetic you must have thought I was with my needled hands and piebald face.’
She jumped to her feet, ignoring the pain in her hip. ‘I’ve never thought ya were anything other than a fine man, Bobbin, and well you know it.’
He looked up at her and shook his head slowly. ‘No,’ he said, with a hitch in his voice that was almost worse than when he was angry. ‘If ya had thought I was a fine man, ya woulda told me.’
It felt as if she’d been hit in the chest with a rounders ball. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked, her voice high and jittery. She took a step towards him, but he backed away. The pain in her chest grew. She wondered if she was having a heart attack.
‘Bobbin,’ she said, her voice cracking now. ‘Bobbin …’
But he’d already spun on his heel and was striding out of the door far faster than his usual gait. A cold burst of wind blew through the door as it swung shut.
He’d left his hat and jacket behind. She stared at the closed door with fear. It was just as she’d expected. She’d lost him. Staggering to a chair, she sat down, doubled over, and hugged her chest.
It hurt worse than anything she could have imagined, but she knew with sudden clarity it wasn’t a heart attack at all. This was what it felt like when your heart was broken.
And then she started crying.
The man sat nervously with his face to the wall, exactly as he’d been instructed. She watched him from a crow, but stood around a corner. Other crows were waiting to peck him to death if he attempted to run around and look her in the face. But she doubted it. The goddess had used hundreds like him over the years.
‘You are a war criminal,’ she told him, modifying her voice so that it sounded disapproving.
‘I am changed man.’
The bodyguard did not look so fierce without his bullet-proof jacket and his shades. He trembled, as was proper in the presence of divinity. ‘And you think I don’t know this is blackmail? You think I betray my employer? No! Do what you want. I not traitor.’
Badb knew better.
‘I am here to help the King,’ she told him. ‘I will give you the Green Man.’
The bodyguard twitched. ‘Do not look around.’ He froze again. He was still trembling, but with excitement now. The new monarch hated jokers and probably Muslims too. He might overlook the fact that this man had forgotten to feed a few hundred of the latter in a long-ago war.
‘Here is the address,’ she told him. ‘They have booby-trapped the alley to the north, but the main street … well, they wouldn’t get away with that, would they?’
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