“I think I am the ablest healer in this gathering,” she said. “If the King has an affliction—”

“Or a curse, or an ensorcelment—” Ser Gabriel said. He nodded at her like one conspirator to another.

“Sister Amicia is subject to arrest at any moment,” Prior Wishart said. “And if caught, she can be burned.”

Amicia shivered. But she squared her shoulders. “I’ll dress as a maid,” she said. “In a kirtle with flowers in my hair, I doubt anyone will take me for a nun.” Her eyes bored into Gabriel’s. “Please, gentles, no false gallantry.”

“I wonder how close you can get to the King,” Ser Gabriel said.

There was a silence, and Prior Wishart shook his head. “The guards would never let her close enough,” he said. He turned to glare at the Red Knight, and noted that at some point Sister Amicia had left her chair.

In fact, she was standing at his elbow.

“You learned that from me!” Ser Gabriel spat.

“Yes,” Amicia said.

Most of the people present laughed.

The Red Knight went on to lay out his plan in what detail he had. Neither the knights of the Order nor the Occitans were pleased to be relegated to forming the rearguard.

Ser Gabriel was adamant. “If you ride openly into the lists with us, we’ll be law-breakers,” he said.

Bad Tom grinned. “Laddie, we’re all law-breakers. Eh? Not lambs. What if they just take us? A hundred crossbows and we’re done—all our steel won’t avail us aught.”

Gabriel frowned, and his mouth twitched sideways, as it did when he felt he was being hounded. “We’ll make something up,” he said. “I agree with the Prior and Sister Amicia that the Galles have more hermetical power than they are showing—but enough to face me? And Amicia?” He smiled at her.

She frowned.

“And if they try to arrest you, then there’s civil war,” she said.

“We will fight our way out. And take the Queen with us,” he said.

She nodded. “But I’ve heard that civil war is what the Galles want. So why not take you all the moment you show yourselves?”

Tom laughed. “She’s got you there,” he said.

Ser Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “De Vrailly can’t allow it,” he said.

“What if he’s just a figurehead?” the Prior asked.

“No one has told him, if that’s the case,” Ser Gabriel said. “I maintain that if we move quickly, we can sweep them up into a duel.”

Heads nodded.

Bad Tom sat back, sheathed his big dirk with a click, and put his booted feet out. He steepled his hands.

“Can you take de Vrailly?” he asked bluntly.

Ser Gabriel shrugged. “Yes,” he said.

“You aren’t sure,” Tom said.

Gabriel met his eye. “No combat is that sure,” he admitted.