Yvaine smiled softly at her and whispered, ‘You are even more beautiful than I remember.’

‘And you are alive.’ Isabel’s eyes welled up.

Yvaine glanced nervously at the exit. ‘Lord Hodge has no idea who I am. He cannot know.’

Isabel had so many questions about that but so little time. ‘And Ita?’

A part of her already knew the answer. Who else would attach a daisy crown to the leg of the eagle they raised together? But it still felt like a flock of birds had taken flight in her chest when she heard it confirmed aloud.

‘Yes.’

Isabel pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to stop from making any noise. Her shoulders shook for a few moments as all the grief, pain, and relief came to the surface.

Yvaine took hold of her hand. ‘They came when we were doing laundry at the river. She got away.’

Isabel searched her eyes. ‘They took you while you were doing laundry?’

A nod.

‘How long have you been in here?’

‘A little over a year.’

A year. ‘Where is she? Where is Ita?’

Yvaine gestured for her to turn around and began unbuttoning her dress, speaking into her ear. ‘She lives with the St Clare group.’

It was not too much of a surprise that her dearest friend was part of one of the largest rebel groups in Carmarthenshire. ‘How do I find her?’

‘You cannot find her. They find you.’

Isabel turned back around. ‘Then how do I make that happen?’

Yvaine’s eyes filled with uncertainty. ‘He cannot know she is alive.’

Isabel’s chest pinched as she realised she was missing vital pieces to this story. ‘I will go alone. He will not know.’

Yvaine looked torn, then gave a resigned nod. ‘Head southeast for fifteen miles, sticking close to the creek. When they come for you, raise your hands immediately and tell them you are unarmed. You have a very short window of time to convince them you are no threat. They will shoot you without hesitation if they are at all suspicious.’

Isabel’s bravery was diminishing, but her need to lay eyes on a living and breathing Ita had her nodding. ‘All right. I understand.’

The tent opened suddenly, and Hodge stepped inside. Yvaine turned her face from him and walked over to the tray, fiddling unnecessarily with the cutlery.

Hodge looked from Yvaine to Isabel’s open dress. ‘Oh. You are changing. I shall wait outside.’

Isabel closed the front of her dress. ‘I will be out in a moment.’

Thankfully, he left without another word. The second he was gone, she rushed over to Yvaine. ‘I will figure out a way to get you out.’

Yvaine reached up and touched her cheek. ‘I am too old to run from soldiers. I will wait for the day they open the gates and walk out of here free—alongside everyone else.’

Isabel brought Yvaine’s hand to her mouth and kissed it, praying that day would come. Her friend went to fetch a clean dress from Isabel’s bag, and as she was helping her into it, she whispered, ‘Do not trust that man.’ She tugged the hood of her cloak up and fled before Isabel had a chance to respond.