“A checkmate wrapped in a sister’s affection,” she observed, an elegant way to state what Nan already knew. “You cannot speak out against her lest she recant her tale to the constable.”

Nan nodded. “I can’t know if she did it for that reason, or for love of me. It don’t matter which, though. It all hurts the same.”

Lady Eluned looked down at her hands folded before her on the table. The lines in her face were more defined now than when Nan had first met her years ago. The sprinkling of gray in her hair had become streaks of silver.

“It is often the way of family, that love and discord must live side by side, and so rend our hearts. But I did wish... I prayed for you, Nan, that you would find a sister worthy of you, and of all your earnest hopes.”

“Nay, not sister. There is no more Bea, that’s how I see it. There’s only Bargate Bettie, and I’ll never call her sister again. And what sorrow I feel for it is gone when I remember I have me such a one as Gwenllian.” Nan had never said it, but if she could say nothing else of what was in her heart, she must say this. “It’s you I have to thank for that, my lady. As if it weren’t enough to give me my life and my strength, you gave me your daughter. I know I cannot call her family in truth, but in my heart she is my sister, and I want no other.”

Lady Eluned nodded to acknowledge it, and her lips pressed together. No one else would know it from looking at her, but Nan knew she was biting back a rush of tears. As it receded there was something else, something that reminded her too much of how her own mother had looked at her at the end, and it made her turn her eyes away from Lady Eluned. It was worry, or fear – something that told her now they would speak of things she would not like.

“My daughter has taught you many things.” Her voice was soft as a morning mist. “I must ask you, Nan, what she has taught you of herbs, those as might stop a child from growing in a woman.”

Nan stared at the table before her. She wondered how it could be so quiet and still in this household full of people. She wondered where the Welshman was. The prince.

“I learned it,” she said, and felt the warmth flood her face. “I put the knowledge to use as best I could.”

Nothing was sure, they both knew that. Every woman knew that. She watched Lady Eluned’s hands begin to move restlessly until they remembered the cup. Her fingers curled tight around it, a hard grip.