‘Father, I hope you will consider that Lady Flidais has not grown up at a king’s court, and may at first be overawed by the scale and formality of Cahercorcan. Not only that – she will travel from her home under circumstances quite different from those she expected: in haste, in fear of attack, and without her parents to accompany her, though I imagine there will be a chaperone, perhaps a kinswoman, as well as other attendants. Flidais’s letters show her to be a young woman of some sensitivity. I believe accommodating her and her party in the smaller, quieter household of Winterfalls would be a far kinder choice. And it would mean Flidais came straight to what will be her new home. We would, of course, travel together to Cahercorcan for the hand-fasting when the time came.’

On reflection I had seen the wisdom in Donagan’s arguments. Provided Flidais had time for rest and recovery at Winterfalls for those two months, she would cope with the stuffiness of my father’s court for the hand-fasting ritual and subsequent celebration. I would support her; I would make sure my mother did not bully her.

Father scratched his beard, then glanced at his chief councillor, Feabhal. ‘There’s a question of propriety,’ he said.

‘Indeed, my lord.’ Feabhal fastened his chilly gaze on me. ‘Prince Oran, housing the young lady under your roof before the two of you are hand-fasted might be seen in some quarters as . . . unseemly. Inappropriate. I’m sure you understand.’

‘I’m not sure I do, Feabhal.’ I made sure my own gaze was steady. ‘If you are suggesting my behaviour would be anything but perfectly seemly, you offend both me and Lady Flidais. Winterfalls is a spacious residence. The lady will have her own private quarters; they are even now being prepared. And if she does not bring a chaperone, no doubt the queen can find any number of aunts or cousins to do the job of safeguarding her virtue. If that is what you mean.’

Feabhal cleared his throat, but did not speak.

‘Nobody would dream of suggesting you would act anything but correctly, Prince Oran,’ said one of the other councillors quickly. ‘It’s more a matter of what folk might think.’

‘Let them think what they will. A virtuous man is beyond gossip.’ I found myself on the brink of laughter, and forced my features into an appropriately princely expression. ‘Father, the territorial dispute faced by Lord Cadhan – did he provide details?’

‘Some. Why do you ask?’ I had my father’s full attention at last.

‘Cloud Hill lies in the far north of Laigin, does it not? On the border with Mide, which is ruled by one of our own kin.’