The Red Knight’s face held a flash of annoyance—even anger. But then he met her eye and smiled.

“Yes. Well.” He looked around. “I suppose that if we have a traitor at this point, we’re fucked anyway.”

The men and women of the Order flinched at his bad language. Amicia thought how like a small boy he sometimes was.

“First, we have Gelfred’s men all across the countryside,” he said slowly. “Because of them, and their chain of messengers, we have collected the men of the Order and Master Pye’s convoy and all the Occitans who escaped from their camp. That will give us two hundred lances and a solid body of infantry. Not, I confess, enough to face the royal army in the field, if it comes to that. But a potent threat nonetheless, and all of them will converge on Lorica tomorrow morning to cover our retreat.” He smiled at the Prior. “If you agree, of course, my lord, and you, Prince Tancredo.”

“Well eno’ but they won’t cover the tourney field.” Tom was flicking at some black skin where the acid had bitten into his forearms while fighting the moths, using his eating knife to flick the scabs off the already healed flesh beneath.

“No, but your cousin Ranald will,” Ser Gabriel said.

All around the table men turned and commented, or grunted. “Ranald knows the palace and the King’s Guard like the back of his hand, and he’s had four weeks to build—and half of the red banda is with him.”

Tom grinned. “I like that,” he said. “Oh, aye. I like that.”

Ser Gabriel bowed like a small boy at school accepting a prize. “Why thank you, Ser Thomas.” He looked around. “I plan a few diversions as well.”

Amicia thought, He’s still not telling us anything. She leaned forward, greatly daring.

“And you have a plan,” she said. “Let’s hear it.”

Ser Gabriel nodded at her. “I do have a plan. Our greatest ally will be surprise. With my knights, we ride in. I show the Queen’s guerdon and offer to fight de Vrailly. We browbeat them into fighting—I think questioning de Vrailly’s courage ought to get him moving faster than his councillors can stop him. I beat him—and we win.” He smiled. “I think the Galles will be done as soon as de Vrailly’s arse hits the dirt. If the Queen is proven guiltless—”

Prior Wishart shook his head. “I fear you are oversimplifying, my son. The archbishop—I know him, and his type. He will stop at nothing to make sure you are defeated. He will cheat.”

The Red Knight grinned his smug grin. “That’s just it,” he said. “De Vrailly won’t cheat. I don’t think he can.”

Amicia spoke up. “I want to try for the King,” she said.

There was silence.