She waved a hand. “It’s fine. I assume the priest can stay? He shouldn’t be moved right now.”

Sir Oreth glanced at Brother Qown. “I don’t care about him.”

You should, Brother Qown thought to himself. Because if you come a step too close to me, I’ll gladly—

No. He stopped himself. No. This isn’t what I believe.

He concentrated on healing any damage Senera might have missed.

The soldiers hesitated.

“Go,” Senera said.

The lead man bowed before he walked from the room. The other men followed, giving Sir Oreth dirty looks on the way.

The moment they left, Sir Oreth slapped Senera across the face.

She rocked back from the blow almost without reaction. Just a hand to her cheek as her eyes went to the floor.

But Brother Qown knew her meek response was a ruse. Are you this stupid, Oreth? Female wizards, holding the rank of colonel in someone or other’s army, do not obey just because you hit them.

“You forget your place, woman. I don’t know what lies you’ve told those men, but Relos Var sent you to help me, not pine over some damn mare who wants to paint herself a stallion. And I know Janel isn’t dead, so you can stop pretending; Xaltorath’s curse just makes her look dead when she sleeps, so heal her. I need her alive so she can give her title to me.”

The white-skinned woman blinked once when Sir Oreth mentioned Xaltorath’s name, then her gray eyes shifted upward. “Interesting,” she murmured. “There can’t be many Joratese who’ve ever heard of Xaltorath. Where did you?”

“I don’t have time to answer your nonsense.” He drew his sword. “Heal her and open that gate back up for me.”

“Senera—” Brother Qown warned.

The puppy by the fireplace crouched, looking toward Sir Oreth and growling.

“Enough.” Senera gestured toward Sir Oreth with two hooked fingers. His sword twisted and warped in his hand, the hilt reforming around his fingers like manacles. The blade itself drew back, hovering point first like a snake rearing back to strike.

Sir Oreth tried to drop the sword and found he couldn’t. “Stop it! What are you—” The blade edge came to a stop just a hair from his throat. Sir Oreth stopped moving.

“What am I doing?” Senera chuckled. “I should think that’s obvious; I’m dealing with you. And you’re not playing the backwater circuits anymore, my pretty idiot. These contests involve enemies of such scope and prowess you haven’t even begun to comprehend the odds. That’s why Relos Var ordered us not to kill anyone. Brought with us, the old woman could’ve been kept from spilling secrets. But dead? Oh, being dead plays to our enemies’ strengths.”

“You’re not making sense…” Sir Oreth didn’t look at her. He didn’t take his eyes off the sword.