On the contrary; she felt absolutely no fear. But Burle, later joined by Stanton, stood next to each other on the opposite side of the tent and just stared at her. Carington was beginning to feel as if they expected her to grow horns or burp thunder. The way they were looking at her was most strange and it was turning into a very odd stand off. She was supposed to be resting. But she could not sleep with Burle and Stanton watching every move she made. So they ended up playing a very odd staring game, with Carington watching them and the knights watching her. Had she not been so exhausted, she might have found it humorous. But her tolerance was fading. “Sir Knight?” she was looking straight at Burle. “What is yer name? I have forgotten.” The big blond knight perked up from his post by the tent flap. “I am Burle, my lady.” “And yer skinny friend?” Burle and Stanton looked at each other. “His name is Stanton, my lady. You hit him in the face when you escaped the first time.”
