Reminding himself, over and over, that there was no way Lord Vile's black gravity could even remotely compare to the warmth of the sunlit stained-glass beside him had been helpful enough in Solomon's forcing the tension out of his limbs. It was subtle, but through the whole conversation he had instinctively been prepared for a fight.

It wasn't even about Vile. He and Skulduggery had been antagonistic for so long, and now that he was in somewhat better condition, it only added to the knowledge of who Skulduggery had been.

And that statement ... really didn't help. Solomon froze, swallowed, managed to speak. "Believe me when I say that I have not, for a single moment, forgotten the consequences."

The Cleaver had been opposite, order instead of chaos, and yet the same at once. In the middle of the newness of the lifestream, the shock he'd undergone through these past few days, he really couldn't be surprised by the flashback. Still, the confirmation that it might do something--that his attempt at a power he didn't really want might cause something to break in Skulduggery--was something he should know.

He just wish he didn't. It wasn't doing his nerves any good. Or his pounding heart, for that matter.

Solomon snorted, latching onto the humour and forcing himself into it, even with his hands tingling with adrenaline. His voice came out light, at least. "Owes you a favour? You almost killed me. I think my being promoted is the least you owed me. In fact, I think you still have a debt."