But Captain Mithros paid him no attention. His gaze raked over the group, paused a second to linger on Janel’s face longer than anyone else’s, and stopped cold at their wine-stain marked archer.

Ninavis waved her fingers at him.

He grinned then, a wide stretch of white teeth breaking the ebony dark of his face.

“Can you do that while riding a horse?”

As it happened, Ninavis could.

The whole camp stopped their training to watch. The Red Spears captain, Mithros, set up a series of targets along a winding path so Ninavis would have to aim and fire even as she steered the horse he’d provided her.

Most importantly, Captain Mithros let the entire group inside the roped area to watch.

“Warning, ready, go!” Mithros waved a hand.

Ninavis urged her horse into a gallop.

Brother Qown hadn’t seen this demonstrated at the Mereina tournament, although he had to assume it could’ve been included among the games. And Ninavis wasn’t a native Joratese, but he couldn’t tell by the way she rode; her control of the horse seemed effortless. She began pulling arrows from her quiver and loosing them at the targets. She made the bull’s-eyes seem easy.

She rode past the end of the track, slowed, and turned the horse around to trot back to the group.

Applause filled the air. Metal changed between more than a few hands, proving yet again Joratese would take any excuse to wager, even on a complete unknown.

Mithros laughed and then bowed as Ninavis dismounted. “I haven’t seen shooting like that since the last time I was home. Marry me, beautiful woman. Our children will save the world.”

Ninavis stared at him, blinking, looking more than a bit nonplussed as one of the Red Spears reclaimed his borrowed horse. She scowled and unstrung her bow. “You’re a bit young for my taste. Anyway, the count wants to talk to you.” She nodded in Janel’s direction. “If you’re so keen to have me fighting under your banner for the tournament, you’ll want to talk to her as well.”

The man didn’t seem much taken aback by her refusal, grinning all the wider. He didn’t so much as glance at the rest, not even at Janel. “But where did you learn to shoot like that?”

Ninavis narrowed her eyes. “My husband served in the army.”

His expression turned thoughtful. “Quuros archers must have improved their skills since the last time I visited their training camps.”

Janel walked over to Ninavis. “I cannot imagine Quuros training camps allowing a Manol vané to visit.”

Brother Qown blinked. He’d have sworn the count would have no idea what a Manol vané looked like. He chided himself. Father Zajhera had spent three years treating her. Of course she wasn’t ignorant.

For the first time, Janel caught Captain Mithros’s attention. “You’re assuming I ever ask permission—”