It was a memory that made him smile fondly until he thought suddenly of how he had reached out that first time to touch Nan’s hair. How sure he had been that she wanted it, and how wrong he had been. Even as this world of the highborn comforted him with its familiarity, he seemed to see it anew through her eyes. Innocent pleasures were not so innocent, frivolity and cruelty like two sides of the same coin. And he had never seen it before. He had never needed to, so occupied with his own concerns, so happy to indulge in what pleasures and privileges had been afforded him.

He could feel himself slipping back into it, if only a little, like it was the most natural thing in the world. The glib words, the excellent wine and rich foods, the attentiveness of servants, the coy attentions of the lady beside him who was daughter to a baron. It was an easier world, for all the dangers in it, and he could not help but welcome its embrace.

When the meal was done there was music and dancing, and he watched a few men pluck up the courage to approach Nan, inviting her to dance. To his relief, she did not, nor did she speak or smile or join in the merriment in any way. Instead she drifted closer to the exit and slipped out, accompanied by one of the other ladies who had attended Lady Eluned in her solar.

He followed within minutes, hoping he might at least learn which chamber was hers. In the morning, he could wait outside it and try to speak to her. He would be careful – they must be careful that none suspected what she meant to him lest it bring danger to her – but he must speak to her.

As he crossed the courtyard in the deepening twilight, he caught sight of Fuss running to a shadowed corner. There was a faint gleam of blue silk, and his heart lifted to see she was alone. He called her name softly as he approached.

She stepped out of the shadow and lowered herself into a courtesy, her eyes down, a perfect show of humility. Anyone would think she had been born and bred at court, the way it was executed. There was the old aura of untouchability to her, that sense that everything in her was perfectly contained and set apart from him. Worst of all was that she seemed to be waiting for him to tell her she might rise.

No, worse than that was how he could sense this deference was meant sincerely, because she thought it was expected of her.

“Stop this,” he said, too terse. She immediately rose and began to hurry away, past him, always keeping her head lowered. She kept moving even as he said, “Nan.”