The nail went into his shoe, just enough to nick the side of his foot. It was what she did to poachers or anyone she did not wish to truly harm; it was meant to startle and to serve as warning. He only cried out and looked down, but did not let the girl go. Nan pulled a blade from her arm brace and in one uninterrupted motion, she let it fly, the tip of it slicing open his shoulder on its way to the ground. Another warning, because she did not want to kill a man in the street where everyone watched. The next would land true if he did not let go, no matter the consequence, but as she drew it he cried out again and dropped the girl.

Little Cecilia held the silver knife in her fist, eyes wide but determined as she backed away from him. She had pricked his hand well enough to draw blood, and now Bea was shrieking, cursing the girl, an ugly look on her face as she strode forward with hand outstretched to grab the child.

The blade caught her sister’s sleeve, aimed precisely to land in the two inches of loose fabric near the elbow, and pinned her arm to the wagon next to her. It halted Bea in her tracks, stopped her cursing with a gasp as she looked bewildered at her suddenly immobilized arm. Arrogant flourish, Gwenllian would call it, but Lord Ranulf would smile with approval and say arrogance could prove useful in a fight. And so it had.

Nan picked up the blade that had dropped to the dirt and held it tight between her fingers. She would leave the other behind in the wagon, a memento for her sister. They must go and quickly. More people were in the street now, gawking, and there was the man inside the brothel who might any moment call the law on her.

She looked to the girls and gave a jerk of her chin, and they moved readily in the direction of the market. Her sister’s shouting followed them.

“Nan! Nan! Will you leave me again?” There was such anger in it, and such despair. Bea let out a sob that would wrench the hardest heart. “Have you only come to show me how well you’ve done, and now you’re finished with me? You said there’s no one can never take you away from me again. Nan!”

She turned and saw Bea ripping her sleeve in an attempt to free it, cheeks wet with tears. Disgust and love and rage rose up at the sight, a wave that threatened to drown her.