He nodded to Quentin and Fionna as they rode up, then turned his attention to Cadwallon and the protesting lady slung over the horse’s neck. He regarded the pair with open amusement. “My lady Janet,” Royce said, bowing in the saddle, “what a pleasure to meet you at last.” “Make this devil release me at once!” Janet shouted at him. “Shall I assume from your undignified position that you left Abercorn unwillingly?” Royce asked. “She persisted in using delaying tactics, so I decided to put her over my shoulder,” Cadwallon answered for Janet. “In that case, my lady,” Royce said to her, “before Cadwallon sets you down, I will have your word of honor that you won’t run back to the abbey until we have a chance to explain why we rescued you.” “She already knows why,” Fionna said. “She just wants to argue the matter for a time.” Janet wasn’t paying attention to her sister. Upon hearing Royce’s words she had abruptly stopped yelling and kicking. Now, with one hand clutching Cadwallon’s chainmail-covered knee, she levered herself upward until she could see Royce’s face.
