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fathom the reasoning for, since they were never consulted on the making of such. And somehow she knew that her sister was just as aware of this, which was one of the reasons she was festering with so much anger. And Jhone sensed the anger.
    The other reason was no doubt that attack on the path. Fear had been the first emotion there, but fear did tend to turn to anger once the fear was gone. And who would have expected an attack like that so close to Dunburh? Milisant had not even brought along her weapons, since they had only been going to the village.
    “I told Papa what happened on the path,” Jhone said. “He sent Sir Milo to see about tracking down those men.”
    “Good.” Milisant nodded. “Milo is a competent knight—not like some,” she added in a grumble.
    Jhone refused to comment on those “some.” “I cannot imagine who they were, though, or why they seemed intent on getting to you.”
    “You noticed that as well?” Milisant asked with a thoughtful frown. “I thought I had imagined it, that they seemed centered on me.”
    Jhone shook her head. “’Tis true, but why?”
    At that, Milisant shrugged. “Why else? Ransom. ’Tis hardly a secret, with all the improvements made in the last ten years to Dunburh’s defenses, that Papa’s coffers are nigh overflowing. And I am his heir.”
    Jhone chuckled. “Aye, but who would know that you are his heir, to look at you?”
    Milisant grinned. “True. Yet Dunburh sees much traffic in the way of traveling merchants and minstrels, and more frequently, mercenaries seeking work, any of whom could have found out who I am. ’Twas likely some of those mercenaries who got turned down, who saw kidnapping me as an easy way to fill their pockets.”
    Jhone nodded thoughtfully. That did seem the most likely reason.
    “But you will have to be more careful now,” Jhone warned. “And that means you cannot go off hunting alone as has been your habit.”
    “If I’d had my bow with me, Jhone, they never would have gotten that close, and well you know it.”
    That was true as well, but did not convince Jhone that caution was not needed. “There were only four of them. Next time there may be more in number. ’Twould not hurt for you to abstain from hunting, or take a few guards with you—at least until they are caught.”
    “We will see,” was all Milisant would promise, an unsatisfactory answer at best.
    But Jhone knew better than to try to browbeat her sister to get her to do as she would like. With Milisant, much more subtle tactics were required. So she said no more on that subject—for now. And she still had the main subject todeal with, of why she had sought her sister out. And
that
she was not sure how to broach either, without having Milisant turn stubborn.
    So for the moment, Jhone chose an unrelated topic, remarking, “Stomper will become jealous if you give much more care to that stallion in his presence.”
    Milisant smiled across the way at the much larger horse that was patiently waiting for a bit of her attention. “Nay, he knows that the sharing of my feelings does not mean there is less for him.”
    She did leave the stall, though, to visit the other horse, and the stallion attempted to follow. She stopped to speak a few soft words to him. When she turned to leave again, he was content to stay.
    Jhone had seen the same thing happen many times before. From as far back as she could remember, Milisant had shown an affinity for animals. ’Twas almost as if they could understand her perfectly when she spoke to them. ’Twas almost as if she could feel their pain and fear as her own, and they could sense this and draw comfort from it. That was not the case, of course; she would be silly to suppose it was. She just empathized with animals. Those she befriended did not feel threatened. But even those she hunted were asked their forgiveness ere she killed them, and too frequently she gave them an opportunity to escape her arrows. Mayhap because she only