Gabriel nodded. “Killed by an arrow,” he said.

She took a deep breath—even in the aethereal, and pursed her lips. “Later, I will see if I will mourn,” she said.

In the midst of her citadel—a storybook citadel with trellises of fruit and birds on trees—there was a well, and she dipped clear water—pure ops —from the well and gave it to him, and he drank.

“This is never a good idea in the romances,” he said.

“I would like to laugh,” she said. “I would like to run amidst flowers and feel love again.”

Gabriel finished the dipper. Then he reached out a hand and found Amicia and beckoned to her, and she came, stepping through the walls as if they were not there—because she had been invited—and the Queen gave her the dipper to drink.

And Amicia took the potentia and worked it, and healed the wounds in his side and armpit. She rubbed her thumb across the back of his left hand and frowned.

“Perhaps tomorrow,” she said.

And then Sister Amicia walked along the column, healing small hurts of men—and horses.

Tom shook his head. “She’s—” He looked around and hung his head.

Gabriel sighed. “Yes,” he admitted. “Now, let’s get out of here, before something goes wrong.”

Chapter Eight

The Company

At Second Bridge they went east again—much the same route they’d used in the morning. It was possible that someone very quick might have sent a force by the west road on the other side of First Bridge and cut them off and, healing or no, Gabriel didn’t fancy another combat.

But as they climbed the low hills of the southern Albin, so that they could see all the way along the main ridges back to Harndon, Gabriel was sure he saw a column on the main road and another moving on the far bank—there were dust clouds there.

“We should have killed ’em all while we had the chance,” Ser Michael said. “I wish I knew where Da was.”

“I am not even sure you’re wrong,” Gabriel said.

But Gavin came to his rescue. “No,” he said. “We did what we set out to do. It’s all the plan we could make. If we’d had two hundred men-at-arms…”

“Anyway,” Tom said. “That stream’s gone past, eh? It was na’ a bad fight, as such things go. We didn’t lose a man.”

“Or a woman,” said Blanche, who was riding with the Queen. She was doing well.

At the Freeford crossroads, where the Harndon Road and the Eastern Road crossed the Meylan Stream, Gabriel gave them an hour. Toby led the squires off in search of food and came back with a laden mule and links of sausages flung casually over his shoulder. They all ate, even the Queen. In fact, she was ravenous, and Blanche accosted the captain again.