‘However, I have no objection to Father writing a covering letter to Lord Cadhan; I’ll seal my own missive and give it to his scribe to enclose.’ I paused to draw breath; assessed that look on her face again and decided to press this rare advantage. ‘When Flidais’s reply comes, we’ll discuss the matter further. A condition of my agreeing to marry would be that I move to Winterfalls as soon as the decision is made. The hand-fasting would take place there.’ In my own home, on my own ground. Winterfalls, near Dreamer’s Wood, was surrounded by forest and lake. It was a place of birds and creatures, peace and tranquillity. My heart began to race. My mind soared into a realm of dreams. This was foolish indeed; both letter and portrait were probably lies. Well, my letter would be all truth, and I’d see what Flidais made of that.

Two turnings of the moon passed before my father received Lord Cadhan’s reply; spring was turning to summer. Enclosed was a sealed message bearing this inscription: To Prince Oran of Dalriada. Personal and Private. I took it away to my apartments unopened. My heart was beating with such violence I wondered what would happen if these negotiations did bear fruit, and I came face to face with the woman of the portrait. I would, perhaps, drop dead from sheer excitement, proving to be the ultimate disappointment as a son.

Only once the door was closed and bolted behind me did I break the seal and read the words within.

I do not know how to address you, she wrote, since we have never met. You have the advantage of a picture – I have seen the artist’s rendition of my features, and I believe it to be true to life – but I know only that you are two-and-twenty years of age and in excellent health. I would have written a formal letter of the kind my father’s scribe has taught me to construct, but that would be an inadequate response to the beautiful words you sent me. My mother wanted to open your sealed message. It was only the words Personal and Private that prevented her from doing so. As it was, she sat beside me while I read it, which did rather diminish the pleasure. Later, I took your letter out of doors and read it again in the shade of my favourite oak tree, with only my little dog Bramble for company. (There is a story to Bramble’s name – don’t you find there are stories everywhere if you look for them? – but I will save that for another time.)