She knew the hills to the northwest were Aderinyth, and she felt a nervous fluttering under her skin every moment as she rode past them. She did not look in their direction, keeping her eyes fixed on the spot between the mule’s ears and trying not to hear the other travelers talk about it – how the terrain made attack so difficult that it had protected the place for years, how it was famed for the falcons and hawks that nested there, how its prince was newly returned.

It took a full day of travel until the hills began to fade from sight. Suddenly panicked at the thought that she would otherwise never see it, she turned at the last moment. There were too many shades of green to count, and the evening light fell on shifting mists that clung to the high peaks. She looked for a glimmer of water high in the hills, remembering the lake where he had gone with his brothers to find the fairy queen, but saw only a falcon that soared out of the mists. Her heart gave a painful throb at the sight.

Even in that one glance, it was easy to see why he had longed for this place so deeply, and for so long. It was easy to see why he would do anything to return.

When there was no more to be seen, she turned her attention back to the road. She was not truly needed to guard this party. The men who did this work regularly for Lord Robert were more experienced and knew the road and its dangers far better than she ever could. They were efficient and courteous and – after a man twice her size had put a hand low on her back and she cut off half his mustache with a flick of her wrist – they left her alone. Fortunately that was the most trouble there had been on this journey.

At Whitting she had gone to Lord Robert, not even questioning why, only knowing that it would be a comfort just to be near him. He was looking out at the site where they were building a storage place for the wine, and she watched the progress with him. She thought of the time when he had wiped her tears and soothed her by telling her how a good wine was made. His was the only idle talk that she ever welcomed, because his voice was so warm and kind.

But he did not speak idly that day. He had asked if she would return to Morency.

He and Lady Eluned would go to their own home at Dinwen, and though she knew she was welcome there, it caused a searing pain to imagine herself in Wales. Yet the thought of going back to Morency made her want to weep, for no reason she could name.