Not that I was alone much now, even with Grim at Wolf Glen. Most days Emer was with me, capable Emer, concocting various cures, giving the cottage a sweep-out, bringing in water from the well, even when I reminded her she was a healer in training, not a servant. And now there was Cara, whose measure I did not yet have, not fully. She’d taken to coming over from the prince’s house in the mornings, duly escorted, and hanging about the cottage until someone came to collect her. The attraction was not myself or Emer, but Grim’s wood carving tools. She used them every morning. I wished Tóla could see her work and recognise her rare skill.

She couldn’t carve all day, and I saw a virtue in keeping her busy, since she was forbidden to do what she most longed to do: go home. ‘If you’re going to be here with us,’ I’d said to her once it became apparent that she meant to continue these day-long visits, ‘I want you usefully occupied. Find a job and keep out of our way while we’re working. Emer knows how to handle poisonous plants. You don’t. And while Emer is my student and assistant, you have no such arrangement with me. I don’t imagine your father wants you to become a wise woman.’

She surprised me, as we got to know each other better, by proving quite capable at a variety of domestic tasks. I was less surprised when her speech began to flow easily in my presence. I was beginning to think fear lay at the heart of her problem. Not the kind of fear a person feels when confronted by a charging bull – I could imagine Cara shinning up a tree to escape – but a terror of getting things wrong, especially if her mistakes offended those she loved. Her father in particular. If I was right, that man had a lot to answer for.

Time passed, the season advanced, and a rich crop of unwanted plants sprang up in Grim’s usually well-tended vegetable patch. One warm day Emer went off into the wood to gather herbs, and Cara and I settled to weeding. We worked in companionable silence for a while, enjoying the sun.

The garden began to look more like its old, tidy self; Grim would be pleased. With the advancing spring, the days were lengthening. There should still be light enough for him to see it when he came home.

A peeping sound made me turn my head toward Cara. Crouched beside the garden bed, she had a bird on each shoulder, one on her head, and four or five others close by, helping themselves to worms as her weeding efforts uncovered them. There were no birds on my side of the garden. I watched, fascinated, not daring to speak lest I scare them away.