‘I acted for the child’s protection,’ said Tóla. ‘Her mother was dead. Her father had run off. Even if he returned, he could offer her nothing. He had no home and no future. He could not provide for her. As our daughter, as the daughter of Wolf Glen, she would live a life of security and comfort. She would be cared for. She would be loved. Don’t tell me that was the wrong choice.’

‘She had family,’ the Longwater man said. ‘Folk who would have taken her in. But you told them she was dead.’

‘And when folk saw young Cara, later,’ said one of the others, ‘and remarked that she looked a lot like Bardán’s mother, you paid them to keep quiet. That’s what folk say, anyway.’

‘Rubbish,’ said Tóla. ‘Vicious rumours and poisonous lies. Besides, who’d be old enough to remember Bardán’s mother?’

‘One or two folk.’

‘How could you say I was dead?’ That was terrible. It was so cruel Cara could hardly believe it. ‘My kinsfolk, my mother’s people in Longwater – of course they would have wanted me.’

‘You misjudge village folk, my dear.’

‘Don’t call me your dear!’

He flinched, but went on. ‘They didn’t want you. Your fey blood was seen as unlucky. And Bardán was never one of them. Never had been. He, too, had the taint of the Otherworld about him.’

‘But you still wanted him to build the heartwood house.’

‘He was the only one who could. The only one with the knack of it. I had no choice.’

‘You used him!’ Cara could not stop her voice from rising. Her real father was sitting over there on the steps, gazing at her without a word, while Tóla spoke of him as if he were an outcast, a nothing. As if he were not even a real person. ‘You used him and you stole from him! Just like the rich man in the heartwood house story! Only in that tale, the mother got her child back while it was still small. My father would never have got me back. If Mistress Blackthorn hadn’t worked it out, you never would have told anyone.’

‘I say again, I had no choice. Besides, I believed Bardán was dead.’

‘There’s always a choice, Master Tóla.’ Mistress Blackthorn was on her feet now. Behind her, Grim was also standing, a little unsteady, but very stern in his gaze. ‘Good or evil. Lies or truth. I don’t believe what you just told us is the true story. Not all of it, anyway.’

‘What more do you want, witch?’ Tóla’s voice was a snarl. ‘A grovelling apology? Recompense in gold pieces? I did what was right! I acted out of love for my wife and the infant! How dare you, a childless unwed woman, accuse me of ill intent?’