So I put up with living cheek by jowl with Fraoch’s family. It was easier for Grim. If he wasn’t over at the cottage rebuilding, which he was whenever the weather was dry enough, he was helping folk with other jobs, paying them back for the supplies they’d given us or the work they were doing at our place. Because this time he wasn’t doing the fixing up all by himself. Folk wouldn’t let him. Seemed we’d won respect for ourselves, goodwill, which was funny seeing as we were only at Winterfalls because of Conmael and his poxy agreement. We only saw Grim at the smith’s to eat and sleep. As for the sleeping arrangements themselves, I cared little for what folk might think he and I were to each other. I told Fraoch’s mother, Ornait, that one chamber was fine for the two of us, provided we had a bed each.

Instead of waiting for folk to come to me, I went out to tend to them. All the remedies I’d prepared since we came to the cottage, all the herbs I’d dried and ground and stored, all my equipment and materials had been destroyed in the fire. I walked out to the wood to gather what was in season. Ornait gave me a corner to work in and I made a small store of salves, lotions and tinctures. I tried to keep busy all day so I wouldn’t have to talk to folk. Grim was a lot better at mingling with people than I was.

One person I could not avoid talking to was the king’s man, Donagan. He rode down to Fraoch’s one morning and asked for me. Ornait brought him into the kitchen, where I was wrist deep in the preparation of a poultice, and I had no choice but to be civil, especially as Ornait seemed to think his visit was an honour – she fetched a jug of her best mead, two cups, and a platter of barley bread, then took herself off and left me to it.

‘I can’t leave this in the middle,’ I said, glancing at Donagan, who had seated himself at the table as if quite at home. ‘If I stop mixing, I’ll have to start again with fresh herbs, and supplies are limited right now.’