‘Mhairi, my cloak,’ she said, and I heard the effort she was making to keep her voice steady. ‘Deirdre, my shoes. Nuala, keep Bramble out of the way until someone brings her travelling basket. I wish to greet the prince in an appropriate manner. We’ll do so outside.’ The women scurried into action, obedient to her commands. Cloak on, shoes on, dog tidied away. Damp hair quickly pulled back with a scarf, which Mhairi – the tall one – tied up in what appeared to me an elegant manner, not that I would know about such things. Flidais stood perfectly still, allowing them to prepare her. Then she moved toward the door, and I thought she was about to leave without a second glance, taking all of them with her, giving me back my space and my silence. But at the last moment she turned to look at me. The blue eyes blazed with determination; the delicate jaw was set firm as a warrior’s. ‘Thank you for your assistance,’ she said.

I nodded, saying nothing. I admired her courage. At the same time, her tone – haughtily dismissive, the voice of a fine lady addressing the least of underlings – set my teeth on edge, and if I had let myself speak, something unforgivable might have come out. I was angry with myself as much as with her. This shouldn’t matter. After everything, it shouldn’t matter in the least.

‘You will be compensated for your trouble,’ Lady Flidais added, then without waiting for a reply she swept out the door with her ladies after her. Deirdre – the one with plaits – turned back before she left. She had the little shaking dog in her arms, and on her face there was a look of genuine apology.

‘Thank you, Mistress Blackthorn. We’ve caused you a great deal of disturbance, and you’ve been so kind and helpful.’

‘Just doing my job,’ I said. Which was the truth, though not all of the truth. Just doing my job because otherwise I’d be dead and Mathuin would never face judgement. Now take yourselves and your business out of my house so I can shut the door on you and breathe again. Which was less than fair, since it wasn’t this woman’s fault that her mistress had taken it into her head to ride to Winterfalls by the slow route and stop for a swim along the way. I wondered if it had occurred to Lady Flidais that her maid’s death sat squarely on her own shoulders?