He gestured to the table. “Make it a very detailed image, Nesta. One that takes weeks to finish. It might be wise for you to live in this chapel, and stay out of sight. If things go badly, it will not take long for others to guess the role you have played.”

He left her, to do what she had to do. Her oblique warning had subtly unbalanced the war that her heart waged. The daughter of Llygad would feel compelled to rectify that.

She watched him walk away. As long as she could see him, she could pretend that his arms still held her. She had experienced a poignant moment of utter connection in his embrace, and she held on to the memory, willing it to continue forever. With each of his steps, however, it slid away from her, leaving her finally bereft.

A wonderful embrace. It had contained the best of what they knew during their truces.

It broke her heart that it would probably be the last one.

She looked down at her last piece of parchment. If she labored without respite, would God have mercy and give her His counsel? If not, would He give her absolution later?

The brushes waited. The pots beckoned. The candles would last through the night.

The light blurred as her eyes teared. She wished Mark had been more discreet. She wished he had not ruined the memory of this last embrace by pointing her toward betrayal with his words.

Her heart tore. She experienced the horrible shredding that she had always known would come one day. If she had been anywhere else but in this manor, if her father’s memory were not so present in all of the spaces, she might have forsaken the dream right then and there.

She wanted to. She wished she could. Not for her own safety, but for the man who had reminded her what happiness could be.

A sound disturbed her. She glanced to the doorway, where Mark had recently walked. The priest stood there, barely visible.

He had been a part of this manor her whole life. He had served her father, and baptized her and Genith, and had taught them both to read and write. He was all that was left of her girlhood, and his arrival gave her untold comfort.

“Will you stay with me?” she asked. “I think that I will need your help.”

He came to her. As he entered the light, it revealed his understanding and sympathy.

She sat down and smoothed the parchment with her hands. He stood by her shoulder. Sadder than she had ever been in her life, she began her final image.

CHAPTER 21

The delayed dinner heralded things to come. The servants grew lax and lazy, and the disruptions created by the visiting lords and army plunged the household into chaos. Discomfort reigned.