“And your mother?”

She shook her head. “I… don’t want to tell you.”

“How did your mother die?” he repeated.

“The duke.”

He remembered her earlier accusation. “The Duke of Nebrov?”

She nodded.

It was no surprise to him. The powerful Duke of Nebrov had launched an insurrection against his brother, King Josef, over a year ago. It had been a bitter struggle, and both armies had almost been destroyed before the duke had been forced to acknowledge a defeat. The king’s forces had been too scattered and weak to pursue Nebrov to his own lands, where he was now licking his wounds and undoubtedly building a new army. As he retreated, he had made sure that Montavia suffered as much as possible and given his men free rein to rape and pillage as they pleased. On Jordan’s journey to Talenka from Kazan he had traveled through town after town like this one that had been shelled and sacked, its inhabitants murdered and brutalized. “One of the duke’s troops killed your mother?”

She shook her head. “The duke,” she whispered. She stared straight ahead as if the scene was there before her. “He did it. He did it.”

“The duke himself?” That was unusual. Zarek Nebrov was a brutal bastard, but his rage was usually cold and controlled, and he seldom indulged in spilling blood without reason. “Are you sure?”

“He came to our cottage, and he… I’m sure.” She shuddered. “Mama told me who he was… She had seen him before. He hurt… her, and then he killed her.”

“Why?”

He received no reply.

“Did you hear me?”

“I hear you,” she said haltingly. “If you do not wish to hurt me, may I go now?”

Christ, he felt as brutal a bastard as Nebrov. The girl was helpless and in pain. He should just call Gregor and have him send one of his men to find the girl’s nearest relations and take her to them. But he knew he had to find out more. The coincidence was too blatant. She had come to see the Window and, by her few agonized words, it appeared the girl’s mother had been tortured before she had been killed. Nebrov never did anything without reason. “No, you may not go.” He held out his cloak to her again. “You will put on this cloak.” He deliberately kept his tone hard, but he sat down in a pew so that he would appear less threatening. Standing, he felt like a giant looming over her fragile form. “Sit down.”