‘That you can’t go where you were planning to go? Yes, it does. However, when you consult a wise woman, you can expect to do so in private. By the time whoever it is gets here, we’ll be sitting indoors by the hearth fire, and he will have to wait for you out in the garden, where he can’t possibly hear our confidential discussion.’ When she still looked as if she might make a run for it – and if she did, there’d be no catching up with her; she had youth and long legs on her side – I added, ‘Truly. If you try to run now, it can only end in failure. Which would probably make any future attempt much harder. And who knows? I might be able to help.’

She came with me. Shoulders drooping, face closed, every part of her heavy with disappointment. As I opened the cottage door, she looked over her shoulder. I followed her gaze. Across the fields came two men on horseback, heading our way.

‘As I said.’ I ushered her inside, closed the door, went to build up the fire.

Cara mumbled something.

‘What was that?’

‘I said, I’m not a child!’

Morrigan save us. Was that the choice, to be silent or to snap like an ill-tempered terrier? Had I been like that at fifteen? I filled the kettle, not looking at her. ‘What would you prefer,’ I asked, ‘to speak with me for a while in private or wait outside for your escort?’

‘You’ll tell her. Lady Flidais.’

‘If that’s what you think, you don’t know much about wise women. Keeping confidences is a necessary part of the work we do. Lady Flidais didn’t ask me to report back to her, only to talk to you. If you want to chat about the weather, that’s fine. If there’s something else on your mind and you want to tell me about it, go ahead. Either way, you have an excuse for being here when they ask. No need to mention you were bolting for home.’ Not that it had looked that way when I’d first seen her. She had appeared entirely at peace with herself and the world. Had she forgotten, standing in that perilous place, that she was running away?

I got out the jar of dried peppermint leaves and the crock of honey. Two cups. Two spoons. ‘As for the part about heading off without an escort,’ I told her, ‘I’ll leave you to work out what to say. Please sit down. You’re making me edgy.’

Cara seated herself on the bench, bolt upright, her hands clutched together on the table before her. The kettle boiled. I made the brew, filled the cups and sat down opposite her. She didn’t say a word.

Horses outside, and men’s voices. ‘What shall I tell them?’ I asked, not getting up.