‘I hope you were not upset that day, Mistress Blackthorn. We were discourteous to you.’

That was a surprise. ‘It takes more than a few ill-judged words to upset me,’ I said. ‘Besides, I seem to recall those comments did not come from you, Nuala. I bear no grudges. I have more important matters to occupy me.’ I tipped my dry ingredients into a bowl. ‘I suppose you and your husband will be off to court soon for the hand-fasting,’ I ventured. ‘Will you be staying on at Cahercorcan afterwards or returning here?’

To my surprise she began to cry, helpless tears streaming down her face. She fished out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes. ‘So sorry, please forgive me. I’m just so . . .’

I wiped my hands and moved to sit beside her, setting aside my preparations. ‘What is it?’ I asked. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I can’t . . . Lady Flidais . . .’

‘If it helps, anything a person tells me within this chamber is confidential. I will not pass it on to anyone. As for Lady Flidais’s draught, if she chides you for taking too long to fetch it, feel free to lay all the blame on me. Her opinion of me can hardly sink much lower.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Nuala said again, drawing a deep breath and squaring her shoulders. I judged she was not the kind of woman generally subject to floods of tears or admissions of defeat. Losing control made her uncomfortable. ‘I’m fine. Really.’

I waited, saying nothing.

‘There was some bad news. From Cloud Hill. Lord Muadan brought it. The prince passed it on to the men, and Domnall just told me. We can’t go back there in spring. And perhaps not at all.’

A number of questions came to me; I juggled them quickly. ‘You mean you were thinking of leaving Lady Flidais?’

She nodded, clearly miserable. ‘Most of the men have been feeling they should go home and fight alongside Lord Cadhan. Besides . . .’ She hesitated. ‘Some of us are not entirely happy here. Lady Flidais seems restless, discontent. Not herself since we came to Winterfalls.’

I must tread gently. Not push too hard. ‘Not herself? The headaches, of course . . .’

‘I should not speak of this. She would be very angry if she thought I had mentioned it to you.’

‘And that in itself is surprising?’ I murmured, taking a risk.

A ghost of a smile appeared on Nuala’s face. ‘Yes, that is exactly it, Mistress Blackthorn. Lady Flidais was always such a model of kindness. Not a conventional girl, but a pleasure to serve, just like her mother. She never forgot to thank us for our work or to ask after our families. Bright, busy, sweet-tempered; a lovely girl.’

So she had been the Flidais of the letters after all. When had she changed? ‘Did Lady Flidais have these headaches when she lived at Cloud Hill?’ I asked.