Alongside Flidais’s ladies and the prince’s formidable aunt, there was a pair of girls from the household whose job was plain sewing and an older woman who did fine mending, including work on what looked like Prince Oran’s clothing. Others came in and out. The household linen was stored in this chamber, in chests set against the walls, and this seemed to require daily attention by a number of serving women. There were always folk putting items away, taking others out, slipping lavender between the folds of aired sheets, rearranging the chests’ contents, debating whether something could be mended or was to be torn up for cleaning cloths. I could almost understand why Lady Flidais spent so much time in her bedchamber.

Fíona, wife of Aedan the steward, was a solidly built woman of middle years, who wore her hair pulled back under a neat veil. She was generally present in the chamber at some point of the morning, instructing the other serving folk or enquiring courteously as to whether any of the ladies wanted refreshments. At my request she’d cleared a small table of various objects so I could sit there to work. I liked the way she did her job without fuss, and the way she spoke to those under her authority – kindly but firmly, so they wanted to do well for her. I saw, too, that Lady Flidais did not care for her, finding fault with any number of little things, while Fíona listened without interrupting, and answered politely that of course the problem would be remedied right away. If I’d been her, I’d have told Lady Flidais she was a lazy, selfish cow who should make an effort to do things for herself. Which would, no doubt, have led to my being instantly dismissed from the prince’s service. Aedan and Fíona had been at Winterfalls since Prince Oran was a child. They’d had plenty of time to learn tolerance. I’d have to do so a lot more quickly.

‘Tell me, Mistress Blackthorn,’ said Lady Sochla, giving me a shrewd look across the room full of women as I sat at my little desk trying to look busy and listen at the same time, ‘what are the questions folk most often ask you? What are the most common ailments they bring to you?’

I guessed she was asking out of genuine interest, not in an attempt to make me feel welcome. Though if the prince’s aunt was as astute as I suspected, she’d have noticed the sideways looks some of the other women were still giving me, days after I had first joined them, as if they thought me as out of place as a fox in a rabbit warren.