They had come upon him in the strange twilight that plays with men’s eyes, and though she did not blame Madog for his clumsy attack on Morency, she could well live without the coldness to which the men had treated her since she said they would not abandon him. Killing they understood. Even hospitality and simple kindness were virtues they cherished. But they could not seem to understand why she would want to save the lord of Morency from death when it would be so easy to let him die in the forest, and none the wiser.

“My duty is with you, Pennaeth Du. Nor would I have stricken him, had I the wit and time to use it, but strike him I did. And now we needs must carry him with us and gather herbs to heal him?” The anger came through in his voice now, but still she did not turn. “I say as I ever did, my lady, that you leave the dog to his fate and let his Redeemer choose if he lives or no. Let him die, now the deed is done, and your house be the better for it.”

She looked down at the knife she held. The afternoon sun filtered through the trees and found metal, as the firelight had done in the hut – a gleaming blade against his muscled flesh, suspended above his heart. He asked for death, the deep-set blue of his eyes demanding mercy. And she had not given it.

“In the shaded places, you’ll find more leaves,” she told Madog, pointing ahead of her. She held up her handful, green and fuzzy, the scent pungent and fresh. “As much as you can gather, if you’ll join me. And betony, if you spy it. A pleasant day for herb-gathering.”

“Why do you do this?” he pressed. “Will you not explain your reasoning to me? He is an enemy to your house, and his soul as damned as –”

“I do not call a wounded man my enemy,” she countered, keeping her voice firm and calm. “And my house is best served by honorable deeds. That is my reasoning.”

“Do you fear him?”

Hot anger flushed up her throat, but instinct held her in place. She wanted to turn on him in challenge, to bring the dagger up to his belly and dare him to repeat it. The ill-feeling among the men was worse than she’d thought, if even Madog would question her courage. She drew a breath and turned her head sharply to him, unable to prevent the anger from creeping into her voice. “I fear no man, and well you know it.”

He nodded. “I know it. And you owe him nothing. Pennaeth Du, I tell you – leave him to die.”