CARENSA said, daring to stare down Vigus Quintrel. She had been back at Torsford for a day, not yet physically recovered from the last battle, though she doubted she would ever forget the bloodshed she had seen. Now, alone in the mage’s workshop with Quintrel long after the others had gone to bed, Carensa could not hold back. “And I have already told you how sorry I am that such a thing happened,” Quintrel replied. Carensa could almost believe him. Quintrel’s voice was appropriately sincere, his manner just the right degree of concerned. Almost. Calculation glinted in Quintrel’s eyes, something that had not been there before. Or, she thought with a sigh, she had been too naïve to see it. “You’re influencing Rostivan, so it wasn’t really his decision to take us to the battlefield. It was yours.” Carensa knew she was on dangerous ground. Yet if anything of the old Vigus remained, Carensa felt duty-bound to be his conscience. Quintrel turned away. “We must make it clear that an alliance with us—as equals, not as servants—has its benefits.”
