‘Belle’ came her brother’s voice.

Isabel turned to find Everard jogging towards her. He was tall for fourteen, which meant his long legs reached her in a few easy strides.

‘Mother is waiting for you in your bedchamber. She wants to speak with you.’ He slung an arm around her and began dragging her off in the direction of the castle.

‘Oh. Perfect’ was Isabel’s reply.

Everard drew back to look at her as they walked. ‘Are you all right?’

What answer to give the young man who looked up to Lord Hodge, who lived safely inside the walls of Hampstead Keep, while those they left behind in Carmarthenshire were either dead or living in a camp? The young man who would eventually receive a title of his own if she played her hand right? ‘Of course I am all right.’

‘You look a bit pale. Do you need to see the physician?’

Isabel stepped out from beneath his arm and looped hers through it. ‘Absolutely not. Now, tell me about your morning. What did you do?’

She listened as he spoke about his French lesson and the sparring match with Trahern, which he had apparently won. Trahern was one of Lord Hodge’s longest serving guards and the man most often called upon to follow her about the castle when all she wanted was five minutes alone. That said, he was the least invasive of the guards and gave her as much space as he could while keeping her within sight. He was also the kind of man who would let Everard win a sparring match occasionally.

When they reached the door of her bedchamber, Isabel paused, keeping hold of her brother’s arm as she worked up the energy for the conversation ahead.

Everard looked between her and the door. ‘What is the matter? Are you in trouble or something? Did you let Margery out of her cage again?’

She looked at him. ‘Yes. Yes I did. And I am certain a suitable lecture awaits me inside.’

He tutted. ‘Serves you right. You know how His Lordship feels about Margery flying around the castle grounds.’

‘Yes.’ She reached up and smoothed the fine hairs back from his face, like she had done his whole life.

He immediately knocked her hand away, cheeks turning red. ‘Stop. I am not a child anymore.’

That was so true and so heartbreaking. ‘I know.’ She gave him a weak smile, then drew a long breath. ‘Wish me luck.’

He began backing away. ‘Good luck.’

She crinkled her nose at him as she pushed the door open. Inside, the room was cold and the fireplace bare—just the way she liked it. The shaking of wings drew her attention to the large cage in the corner where Margery was now locked inside.

‘There you are,’ her mother said, rising from her chair. ‘Did His Lordship find you?’

Isabel wandered over to the cage. ‘He did.’

‘And?’

‘And we spoke.’

Lady Gwenore’s face was pure impatience. ‘About the wedding?’