Gwen clenched her jaw, feeling oddly petulant, as she hadn’t done since she was a child. “I was only asking,” she muttered. Olivia’s bedside manner left something to be desired. Gwen found herself missing her father quite fiercely all of a sudden—and then felt a deep, wrenching ache. She couldn’t go visit him now, not with all these bruises and injuries. He’d see how stiffly she was moving and know something was up. Gwen swallowed, fending off the sadness that came with that realization.

Olivia tossed the wet cloth back into the basin and stooped to fetch a little glass tub from where she’d unpacked it on Gwen’s bedspread. She pulled off the lid, which bore a word Gwen didn’t recognize, or possibly a name: Kadija’s.

The tub itself contained a vivid green ointment, the pungency of which made Gwen’s eyes begin to water as Olivia crossed back over toward her.

“Oh, what the hell is that?” she asked, leaning away from Olivia and trying to breathe through her mouth. The strength of the herbal concoction was enough that even the back of her throat could smell green.

“Healing ointment. Imported from the land of the pharaohs. Good heavens, you’re almost as squeamish as a real knight. Hold still.” Olivia dipped her fingers into the ointment and began applying it all across Gwen’s shoulder.

Gwen braced herself, but it seemed that Olivia did know what she was doing—the cool cloths had calmed the burning in her shoulder. She drew an experimental breath, keeping it shallow so as not to aggravate her ribs.

“So, if you won’t tell me about Archer . . . will you tell me what you learned about the women who came to the dragon bonfire, who were arrested?”

“Isobelle should hear this, too. I think the others have left, to judge from the quiet out there.” Olivia drew a deeper breath, and just as Gwen realized what she meant to do, she called, “Lady Isobelle? Will you join us?”

Gwen jerked and grasped at Olivia’s arm, hissing at her to stop, but she was too late. She had the impression of grim amusement in Olivia’s gaze before she heard Isobelle’s footsteps sweeping toward her door. Gwen didn’t want Isobelle seeing her half naked just now, but she really didn’t want Isobelle seeing her covered in bruises.

Right now, Isobelle thought she was some invincible hero. Was it too much to ask for to let that pleasant fantasy linger a little while longer?

Chapter Thirty-Three
They’ll kill anyone who tries to upset the order of things

“Oh my!” Isobelle’s eyes started watering as she opened the door, the unmistakable—and eternally objectionable—scent of the green ointment wafting toward her. “Oh dear, I see she’s got at you with the Kadija’s. Your skin will be green for a month, you know.”