"She's not," Royce snapped irritably. "She managed, between bouts of weeping, to explain she's a 'novice.' "

"What's that?"

Royce Westmoreland was a battle-hardened warrior whose firsthand knowledge of religious rights was virtually nonexistent. His entire world, since he was a boy, had been military, and so he translated Brenna's tearful explanation into military terms he understood: "Apparently, a novice is a volunteer who hasn't completed his training or sworn fealty to his liege lord yet."

"Do you believe she tells the truth about that?"

Royce grimaced and swallowed more of his ale. "She's too frightened to lie. For that matter, she's too frightened to talk."

Stefan's eyes narrowed in what might have been jealousy over the girl or merely annoyance at his brother's failure to learn more of value. "And too beautiful to question too harshly?"

Royce sent him a sardonic look, but his mind was on the matter at hand. "I want to know how well fortified Merrick castle is, as well as the lay of its land-anything we can learn that will be of help. Otherwise, you'll have to make that trip to Merrick you started on yesterday." He set the tankard down with a resolute thud upon the trestle table. "Have the sister brought to me," he said with deathly finality.

Brenna scooted backward in terror when the giant, Arik, entered their tent, the earth seeming to tremble with each of his footsteps. "Nay, please," she whispered desperately. "Don't take me back before him."

Ignoring Brenna completely, he stalked over to Jenny, clenched her arm in his enormous fist and hauled her to her feet. Legend, Jenny realized a little hysterically, had not exaggerated the size of Arik's war axe: its handle was as thick as a stout tree limb.

The Wolf was pacing restlessly within the confines of his large tent, but he stopped abruptly when Jenny was thrust inside, his silver eyes raking over her as she stood proudly erect, her hands bound behind her.