‘I’ve missed you, big man.’

I nod. Still looking. Remembering those words I wrote for her. And the ones she wrote for me. ‘You come on horseback?’

‘Mm-hm. Eochu found me a placid mare. I’ve left her down by the big house. Grim, we’d better talk now, before anyone else comes. I don’t imagine Master Tóla’s going to leave me up here unsupervised for long; he seems keen to know every little thing that goes on in this place.’

So she’s come to Wolf Glen to see Tóla. ‘You here to report on Cara?’

‘You might invite me to sit down.’

‘Sit. Please.’ I wave a hand at the stone Bardán’s been sitting on.

‘I’m joking, Grim,’ she says as she sits down. ‘Or trying to. If I don’t I might disgrace myself and shed tears.’

‘Tears? Why?’

‘Why do you think?’ She reaches over and takes my hand. I can feel myself filling up with happiness. ‘You’re blushing,’ she says.

‘Better than crying.’

‘Look at us,’ Blackthorn says. She’s going to say something else, but one of the fellows comes over from the barn with a steaming cup in his hand. Passes it to her, smiles, introduces himself.

‘Mistress Blackthorn? I’m Corcrán, from Longwater. I was there the day you helped birth Fann’s boy.’

She greets him, has a little talk about Fann and how she’s faring – well, it seems – and all I can think about is precious time being wasted, our time, hers and mine. In a bit Corcrán takes himself off, and we sit a while without speaking. Don’t know what she’s thinking. She did say she’d missed me. But she let go my hand as soon as Corcrán came.

‘I had some business with Tóla,’ she says. ‘I needed to collect some items for Cara. He’s forbidden her to leave Winterfalls until your building job is finished. He couldn’t really pack me straight off home the way he did her, especially as I told him I was riding on to Longwater.’

‘Fair way,’ I say. ‘You’ll be tired. On your own.’

‘You know I can look after myself. But I wish you were home, and that is no joke. Not that I’ll be there myself until Oran and Flidais get back from court. I’ve promised to stay with Cara. And she’s . . .’ Blackthorn looks around as if she’s worried someone might hear. The fellows are still having their brew over by the barn; I can hear them talking, laughing.

‘She’s what?’