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her, but he moved with the sureness and strength of a soldier despite his recent wounds. He had the face of a soldier too, stern and rugged, yet still handsome for all that with a regal, leonine nose.
    Philippe made a small nod of conciliation. “King Thomas, forgive us our rough and ready methods, but this is a dangerous land. We needed to know how matters stood. Please, accept my hospitality. You and your men are welcome to travel with us as long as you care to. We are on our way to Anutitum, but there will be a port before then that I’m sure can convey you and your men safely home to Lyond.”
    Thomas— King Thomas—narrowed his eyes in brief assessment and held his hand out to shake on the bargain. “I accept your hospitality, Prince Philippe.” A formal declaration, and Philippe understood it as such, for he gave a formal half bow in return. When the two royals shook, the king’s massive paw almost swallowed Philippe’s delicate hand.
    Philippe smiled. “Come, let us seal our accord and share the Kiss of Peace.”
    King Thomas’s mouth gave a small, wry twist, but he allowed Philippe to kiss the back of his hand and returned the kiss himself. “I thank you again, kind prince. I have your permission to cut my men free, I assume.”
    Aliénor bit her lip to keep back an unwise chuckle.
    Philippe flushed. “Of course, of course. Apologies. We will find somewhere in camp for you and your men. I will send my healers to you.”
    “I have a healer among my own men, but if you could arrange for supplies to be brought, that would be appreciated.”
    Aliénor did not blame King Thomas for not wanting their Jerdic healers among his men. After witnessing Mistress Helen’s blood magic, she knew it to be a wise precaution on the king’s part. She stepped forward and touched Philippe’s sleeve to get his attention. “If it please you, husband, I can make arrangements for King Thomas.”
    Philippe flicked her a grateful glance. “It is well. See to it, my love.”
    Noémi returned, and she fell easily in step with Aliénor as they moved away from the soldiers. Aliénor cast one quick glance at King Thomas. He gave a small nod of thanks. She felt her cheeks heat and hurriedly looked away.
    “Did you do as I asked?” Aliénor murmured to Noémi as they moved through the camp together.
    “I sent the king’s chain mail to be cleaned by one of your servants, and I had all the bandages, sheets, and other detritus burned by the physician while I watched. He grumbled at the waste, but I thought boiling wouldn’t be good enough. Mistress Helen wasn’t pleased when she came sniffing around a few minutes ago.”
    “Good.”
    The camp was all a-bustle with people setting up the tents and fire pits for the night. A stream of stragglers was still riding in from the rearguard. The vanguard always had to stop at midday just to give the soldiers at the tail end time to catch up before nightfall.
    “Do you think the gossip has spread yet, about the king?” Aliénor asked.
    Noémi glanced around with narrowed eyes, like a village sage judging the weather. “No, not yet. But soon, I’m sure.” She pointed ahead. “The servants have finished readying your tents.”
    “Good.” Aliénor continued in a straight line to her own tent. She let out a sigh of relief when she stepped inside its coolness. Violette was already there with wash water prepared, and the gossip about the Lyondi soldiers did seem to be spreading, for she had already heard all of it.
    Her two ladies chatted and gossiped as they helped Aliénor to remove her travel-stained dress. That accomplished, Aliénor went to the wash basin to sponge away the day’s coating of dirt and blood.
    Noémi crossed to sit in one of the four camp chairs in Aliénor’s tent and sank her pudgy chin into one hand, her brow furrowed.
    Aliénor raised an eyebrow. “What troubles you, Noémi?”
    “Did you know when you rescued him?”
    Aliénor flinched. “Yes, I knew he was