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Was that the sun beating down so strongly as to make sweat begin to trickle down the middle of her back? Ali looked up but saw nothing but clouds. Perhaps ’twas the tension of being up on the roof to cause her such distress. Aye, that was it. Surely.

“I thought my lot worse than most, though,” Gillian continued, as mercilessly as any castle torturer, “for after I learned that I was to be wed to the Dragon of Blackmour, I then found that my escort to Blackmour would be none other than the fierce and ruthless Colin of Berkhamshire.”

Ali choked again. By the saints, could she control none of her body’s traitorous actions? She held up her hand to stop Gillian from pounding further on her back. “I am well,” she gasped.

“Are you?”

“Aye,” Ali wheezed. By the saints, from one peril straight to another—and that was just the pattern of her own morning so far! Gillian’s life’s path had been much worse. How had she borne such a thing? Ali would have fled, in her place.

She tried to ignore the irony of that.

“I arrived here,” Gillian went on, “certain that I would find myself wed to a warlock of the foulest ilk who would likely offer me up as a sacrifice in the most painful of ways at his earliest opportunity. But,” she said, looking Ali full in the face, “I found him to be nothing more than a man. One with a very intimidating reputation, to be sure, but just a man nonetheless.”

Ali wondered how the Dragon might feel, did he but know his wife thought so little of his fierceness.

“And you wed him willingly?” Ali found herself asking.

“Willingly?” Gillian asked, then laughed. “Nay, I wed Christopher in sheer terror. ’Twas afterward that I grew to love him. And I daresay he loves me well enough himself.”

Ali simply couldn’t fathom that. That the Dragon of Blackmour should tenderly care for a woman this gentle was simply beyond belief.

“Not all men,” Gillian said, “are what they seem to be.”

“But Colin of Berkhamshire—” Ali protested.

“Has as tender an underbelly as my dragon,” Gillian said, “though it flatters his enormous ego to think everyone drops to their knees in terror when he approaches.”

“But, my lady, most do drop to their knees in terror when he approaches.”

“Do you truly think he would require that of his wife?” Gillian asked.

“I’ve no doubt of it,” Ali responded without hesitation.

Gillian only shook her head with a small smile.

“Did you but know him as I do, you would think differently. His manners at table are atrocious, and those manners would likely extend to courtesies shown a wife, but I daresay the right woman would inspire in him great love and devotion.” She looked at Ali searchingly.

“Your lady Sybil will find that for herself, in time. If she is the right woman for him.”

Ali forced herself not to snort in disbelief.

“Do you know of another woman who might suit him better?”

Ali could only shake her head, mute.

“Why is it, my girl, that you find yourself hiding in mail?” Gillian asked quietly. “Were you faced with an unsavory wedding?”

“I am no girl....” Ali said desperately.

“Your betrothed must have been powerfully unpalatable,” Gillian continued thoughtfully, as if she hadn’t heard Ali’s protest, “for you to have fled him thusly. How long have you been hiding?”

Ali had wondered, when she’d first seen Gillian coming down the steps holding on to the lord of Blackmour’s arm, if the woman might be bewitched.

Now she was quite convinced that she wasn’t bewitched, she was a witch herself.

Either that, or she possessed a kind of sight that only the strongest of souls could counter.

And Ali was certainly not the strongest of souls.

Obviously, there was no use in further denials. All that was left was to speculate on how long it would take for Gillian to give Ali back her own name.

Ali sighed deeply. “Two years have passed since I fled my home.”

“Two years?” Gillian asked in surprise. “A very long time to be hiding from a man.”

“I had no choice.”

Gillian stared out over the water for several minutes.

“Maignelay-sur-mer is on the coast, is it not?” She looked at Ali briefly.

“I haven’t the head for maps. Christopher and Colin both have told me quite a bit about how things find themselves in France, though, so I often try to imagine how things must lie there.

Let me see. Maignelay is not far from .. .”

Ali waited grimly for Gillian to solve the rest of the puzzle.

It took less time than she’d suspected it might.

“Not far from Solonge, is it?” she asked suddenly.

“Not far enough,” Ali muttered.

Gillian paused, then smiled faintly. “Two years ago Colin was set to wed with the daughter of Solonge,” she said. “That daughter fled. We were fairly certain she’d met her end in some unpleasant way. But that isn’t so, is it?”

“It depends,” Ali said, not daring to look at Gillian, “upon how unpleasant one might find the life of a knight.”

“Ah, Aliénore,” Gillian said, giving Ali’s arm a squeeze, “you poor girl.”

Ali could only sigh in answer.

“And now to find yourself in the very place you sought to avoid! However did you manage that?”

“It wasn’t by choice,” Ali mumbled. “I found myself dragged along with circumstances I couldn’t control.”

Gillian laughed softly. “Such is the course of life, or didn’t you know?”

“If I’d had any idea that allowing Isabeau of Maignelay-sur-mer to rescue me from my own ineptness would have resulted in finding myself guarding the Butcher’s bride, I would have continued on to Constantinople—which had been my goal from the moment I fled through my father’s gates.”

“The Butcher,” Gillian mused, with a smile. “Aye, that is a title that would certainly please him to hear often. You know, Aliénore, he is not truly the demon he is rumored to be. ”

“Aye, I know,” Ali said darkly. “He’s likely worse.” She looked at Gillian. “My lady, I crave your silence. I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but—”

Gillian held up her hand. “No one will learn of this from me.”

“Not that it would matter,” Ali said with a sigh. “Your husband will likely look at me and know anyway, given his foul powers of sight.”

Gillian turned to lean on the wall and look at Ali. “And did he manage to see you truly, he would offer you his aid, not his censure, I can assure you of that. But I will not tell him, for your sake. But what is it you’ll do now? You cannot hide forever behind your mail.”

Ali looked at her miserably. “I’ve no idea,” she said.

“I have no skills, no calling, no useful purpose. I have a bit of coin, but I’m not even sure what that will buy me.

Worse yet, if my stepmother knew I was alive, she would hunt me down and slay me.

And we haven’t even spoken of what Lord Colin would do to me, has promised to do to me did he but clap eyes on me. ”

Gillian looked off over the sea for several moments in silence. Ali stared at her, and whilst she did, she couldn’t help but marvel at the woman’s comeliness and serenity. Indeed, the fairness of her face seemed to have much to do with the peace that seemed to flow from her.

Ali envied her that peace.

Then Gillian turned back to her and gave her arm a squeeze.

“We’ll think of something. I’ll aid you as I can and we’ll see your troubles solved.

But I must tell you,” she added suddenly, “that whilst I understand your two years of hiding, I think they were unnecessary. Colin of Berkhamshire has the most foul of reputations, but he is, like my dragon, only a man in the end.”

“A man who vowed to kill a certain woman did he but find her,” Ali said pointedly. “What kind of man does that?”

“Men blather on,” Gillian said, waving a dismissive hand. “And Colin is more boastful than most.”

“I find myself quite unwilling to test that, my lady.”

Gillian laughed. “No doubt you do. For now, what you need is a goodly nap and a fine meal to restore you. Come, I will see you installed inside my overrun solar and keep your lady occupied that you might have your rest on a proper mattress. You must be very tired.” She turned Ali toward the door leading down into the castle.

“I think that did Colin but know what you’d managed all on your own, he would fall to his knees at your feet and beg you to be his. ”

“Aye, so he could more easily impale my head on a pike outside his gates,” Ali muttered.

Gillian only laughed again. Ali found herself far too weary both in body and spirit to do aught but allow herself to be led—and be profoundly grateful for the aid. At least she might have an afternoon’s sleep in peace. For that, she would have paid quite a high price.

She followed Gillian to the solar, then watched in amazement and not a little satisfaction as the solar door was opened, Sybil and her wenches were herded into a comer, and Ali was given a fine couch with a comfortable goosefeather mattress to sleep on.

Protests were silenced with naught but a look and Sybil was distracted with such skill that Ali lay down with a smile on her face.

And with her last thoughts, she promised herself she would decide on her life’s work at her earliest opportunity.

And once that was decided upon, perhaps she would enlist Gillian’s aid in having the portcullis raised so she might escape and be about that work.

She patted the coins tucked into her belt and was comforted by the weight of them.

Aye, there was enough there to buy her some kind of goodly life.

But first, blissful sleep, with the Dragon’s lady watching over her.