She stands where she is a moment longer, breathing carefully, and then turns to walk away. Takes a few steps. Turns back.

"I don't know if respect means any more to you than gratitude," she says to the empty air, and her voice in her own ears is barely louder than the thudding of her heart, but this is the truth and she is going to say it aloud. "But for what you did for Skulduggery -- for setting up the game to make you do what had to be done -- you have mine."

And she turns again, cold hands clasping fistfuls of her skirt, and hurries away.