“I searched for you!” It burst from her, filled with a fury that could no longer be confined to the path of a blade. There was a burning in her lungs, a sharp and painful ache that formed itself into words. “I searched years for you. I prayed and I hoped and I found you, and I swore to myself there is naught I would not do for you, naught.” Already her throat was raw.

“Nan –”

“And you would make a whore of a child! You would let her starve did she not obey, though she cries out in terror of it. Starve.” She would not weep. She must keep her eyes dry and clear, so her aim stayed true if she must fight. “Foul and corrupt. That is what you are become. That is who you are.”

Bea clutched her torn sleeve and stared at her, tears trickling down, jaw working angrily.

“And I am your sister,” she said. “I am that, too.”

Nan looked at the face so like her own, the only other person left on earth with their father’s eyes and their mother’s smile.

“Nay,” she answered. “You are Bargate Bettie. And she is no sister of mine.”

She turned away. They might have been children again, so much was it like the last time she had left her family. Just as then, she walked away with purpose and a heavy heart. Like then, the sound of her sister’s weeping followed her.

But this time she did not look back. This time, she did not want to.

Chapter Fourteen

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They were in the yard training a newly arrived falcon when Hal was called to greet a visitor. Gryff wondered whether to hide himself in the mews in case it was a courtier who might recognize him, but in the end he only pulled up his hood and retreated to a far corner of the yard. It proved to be unnecessary, though, because Hal reappeared within moments.

“Come,” he said, and gestured Gryff to follow him the front of the house. He had beckoned his wife as well, her arms free of the children that slept every day at midmorning.

He did not know what to expect, but he would never have thought to see Nan there, her head bowed and eyes on the ground – a vision that sent happiness flooding through him. He barely had time to register it before her dog was bounding at him, barking joyously and turning circles, jumping up to greet him. Gryff knelt, unable to stifle the smile that took over his face as he scratched the dog’s head. She had returned. She was not lost to him forever.

“There you are, mighty Bran,” he said, laughing. The dog whined and danced in answer. “Mighty Fuss, I mean to say. Did you miss me?”