Trynne nodded to him as she walked through it, then planted her palms on the edge of the balcony and watched her warriors as they lined up the prisoners. Their armor and weapons had all been stripped away and were set in neat piles to one side. Mariette had proven to be one of the most capable of the Oath Maidens. The thirty-year-old widow was older than the rest. Tall, lithe, and blond, she was beautiful enough to be mistaken for an Occitanian princess. But Mariette was a leader, and while she’d enjoyed her position of power as the widow of a wealthy merchant, she’d always wanted to learn how to fight. Being taller than most men, she was intimidating to them. Trynne watched as she told the prisoners where to assemble, walking among them in a chain hauberk topped with a tunic bearing the badge of Averanche.

Staeli folded his arms and nodded with approval. “She’ll make a good captain for you someday,” he said, gazing at Mariette. “The new girl from the desert, I would put her under Mariette to start.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Trynne said. “I’ve had my eye on Mariette for a while. I wish I were that tall sometimes. She’s going to compete in the Gauntlet of Kingfountain.”

“Aye, and she’ll do well,” Staeli said proudly. “So will that hunter, Rhiannon. She’s from Atabyrion, a tanner’s girl. She knows more about hunting than most scouts I’ve known. She’s the one who warned us about Count Bastian’s knavery.” His smile turned into a frown. “What would you like to do with him? His face is a little purple at the moment, and not from woad.”

“Purple?” Trynne asked with a laugh. “I didn’t hit him that hard.”

“No, you did not. I did.” He puffed out his chest a little, looking satisfied with himself.

Trynne wanted to hug him. Though he trusted her to take care of herself, he was still very protective of her. “If we let him go right away, he may not learn his lesson very well. I was thinking of holding him for ransom. He is from Legault, after all. There may be others he’s treated poorly.”

Staeli scratched his beard. “Very well, lass. It’s better to kill a snake than release one, but skinning it first is helpful. The poisoner’s name is Gawne. He’s looking even more purple than the count,” he added as an aside. “An ordinary chap from Pisan. Hired by Count Backstabber to kidnap you. That’s his specialty—abducting youths. Capturing you was going to earn him ten thousand florins, of which he had already been paid half up front.”

“So little,” Trynne said, feeling sick.