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padded to the door. Wolf Mortimer, silent as the night, followed her.
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    The next morning, Brianna was awakened by Mary. “Are you all right, lovey? You’re usually up and about at this hour.”
    â€œI feel fine, Mary.” Brianna threw back the covers and got out of bed. “I had the strangest dream. Some great wild beast—I think it was a lion—threatened the safety of everyone here at Warwick, so Father and Guy Thomas went off to hunt it. A dark angel came to me and enfolded me in his wings to protect me. I felt safe and warm and had no fear, even when the beast approached. The dark angel turned into a wolf and savaged the lion. Then it lay down beside me to guard me until I awoke.”
    â€œThat’s simple enough to interpret. The threat of the lion is the king, and your father is preparing to leave for the Marches.”
    â€œPreparing to leave? I had no idea!” Brianna dressed immediately, dragged the brush through her tangled curls, and tossed her hair back over her shoulders.
    â€œWhat’s this?” Mary picked up a small silver disk that lay amongst the covers and handed it to her.
    Brianna examined the small object that looked like a medallion from a dog’s collar. She turned it over and saw it was inscribed with a name. “Shadow,” she whispered, as fragments of her ethereal dream scattered and moved just beyond her recollection.
    Brianna hurried to the Great Hall where she found her mother conversing with their castle steward, Mr. Burke. “Is it true? Is Father returning with Roger Mortimer to the Welsh Border country?”
    â€œYes, my dear. He’s readying the men-at-arms now. We need not worry; he will leave a strong guard to protect Warwick. When they are ready to depart, we will see them off together.”
    Brianna noticed that her mother was unusually pale this morning, yet she gave no hint that she was the least bit troubled. “You have so much courage. I promise to put on a brave face when Father leaves.”
    Guy Thomas came rushing into the hall, unable to hide his excitement. “Father says I may go too!”
    Brianna saw her mother’s face blanch at her son’s words.
    Jory opened her mouth and closed it again while she gathered her thoughts that had been thrown into sudden disarray. She composed herself quickly. “I’ll come and help you pack the things you will need.”
    He squirmed. “Please…I’m going on a man’s mission, I don’t need my mother to hold my hand.”
    Mr. Burke cut in smoothly, “I will advise you on what to take. We must make haste, you don’t want to hold up the other men.”
    Jory looked at her daughter. “He’s fourteen.”
    Brianna sought for strengthening words. “Roger Mortimer was wed at fourteen, and a father at fifteen.”
    â€œI suppose Warwick was that age too when he wed the first time. Why do they rush headlong into manhood? Why can they not wait?”
    â€œThe same reason we cannot wait to become women.”
    Jory’s smile was tremulous. “Real women wear their best gowns and jewels and hold their heads up proudly when their men depart. It gives a lasting impression that we believe they are invincible, that they will win every battle and return home victorious.”
    Brianna spied Lincoln Robert and his brother, Jamie, who were carrying out their packed saddlebags. She hurried to their side, her heart in her mouth. “Are you riding to the Welsh Borders?”
    â€œUnfortunately, no—I’d give anything to go with them. Father has promised to send troops, so we are returning to Hedingham,” Lincoln said ruefully. He smiled down at her. “However, it pleases me beyond measure that you are concerned for my safety.”
    Brianna felt relief, though she understood Lincoln’s regret. Like all young males he was eager to prove his manhood in armed conflict. “I’m sorry you are