A couple of companies of soldiers had been left on guard duty, and the sentries Winter saw on her return looked very unhappy at being unable to join the demonstration. She passed the word that they’d be the next to receive passes to head into the city, which cheered the Royals up considerably. Abby hadn’t wanted the Girls’ Own to go out, which rankled a bit, but was probably sensible; Cyte’s notion of using the Crown’s credit to secure supplies had given her an idea, though. She spent the next couple of hours in the big room Sevran used as an office, writing orders and consulting with a few local representatives.

“Sir?”

Winter looked up to find a ranker from the Girls’ Own at the door. The young woman—she couldn’t have been more than seventeen—was obviously intimidated at the prospect of talking to her colonel, and she drew herself up into what she probably thought was a properly stiff military bearing. Winter suppressed a smile.

“Yes, Ranker?” she said.

“Captain Giforte requests permission to bring a matter to your attention.”

Winter frowned. “Of course. Tell her to come in.”

“She requests you join her in the yard, sir.”

“All right.” Winter set down her pen and stretched, kinks popping in her back. Her headache, at least, had subsided a bit. “What’s going on?”

“Best she tells you, sir.”

Abby was waiting in the yard, in front of the entrance to the keep. Behind her, the troops had returned to their tents and were cooking lunch, though quite a few seemed to have drifted over to see what was going on.

Behind Abby stood three young women. The one on the left was enormous, a head taller than Winter and broad-shouldered, with short hair and a guarded expression. To her right was a younger woman, slim and sallow-looking, dressed in battered leather and fraying homespun.

The third woman made a point of not looking at her two companions, or indeed anyone else in the yard. She had the pale skin of someone who’d spent her life sheltering from the sun, and long golden curls that cascaded down to the small of her back. Her dress, elegant pink and gold with matching jewelry at her throat and wrists, was already stained at the hem from the mud of the yard. Her eyes snapped to Winter as soon as she emerged, bright blue and disconcertingly piercing.

“Abby,” Winter said as the acting captain saluted briskly, “what’s going on?”

“These three came up to me after the demonstration, sir,” Abby said. “They want to join up.”

“Join up?” Winter looked at the three women incredulously. “Why?”

“You’d have to ask them, sir.”

Winter turned to the large woman. “What’s your name?”