As it happened, Kara was somewhat the worse for wear, not to say steaming drunk. A young Sir Nobody-in-Particular had been plying her with wine, evidently fortified by freezing—her speech was slurred and incoherent and her hair mussed—quite possibly with intent to climb into her clothing with her. He hadn’t got far, perhaps because Kara was more enthusiastic than discreet, but it wasn’t for want of trying. Though Kara protested her innocence, Miriam detected more than a minor note of concern on Brill’s part. “Look, I think there’s a good reason for going home,” Miriam told the two of them. “Can you get into the carriage?” she questioned Kara.

“Course I can,” Kara slurred. “N’body does ’t better!”

“Right.” Miriam glanced at Brilliana. “Let’s get her home.”

“Do you want to stay, mistress?” Brilliana looked at her doubtfully.

“I want—” Miriam stopped. “What I want doesn’t seem likely to make any difference here,” she said bleakly, feeling the weight of the world descend on her shoulders. Angbard named me his heir because he wanted me to attract whatever faction tried to kill my mother, she thought. Hildegarde takes against me because I can’t bring back, or be, her daughter, and now I’ve got these two ingenues to look out for. Not to mention Roland. Roland, who might be—

“Got a message,” announced Kara as they were halfway to the door.

“A message? How nice,” Miriam said drily.

“For th’ mistress,” Kara added. Then she focused on Miriam. “Oh!”

From between her breasts, she produced a thin scrap of paper. Miriam stuffed it in her hand-warmer and took Kara by the arm. “Come on home, you,” she insisted.

The carriage was literally freezing. Icicles dangled from the steps as they climbed in, and the leather seats crackled as they sat down. “Home,” Brilliana told the driver. With a shake of the reins, he set the horses to walking, their breath steaming in the frigid air. “That was exciting!” she said. “Shame you spoiled it,” she chided Kara. “What were you arguing about with those gentles?” she asked Miriam timidly. “I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“I was being put in my place by my grandmother, I think,” Miriam muttered. Hands in her warmer, she fumbled for the blister-pack of beta-blocker tablets. She briefly brought a hand out and dry-swallowed one, along with an ibuprofen. She had a feeling she’d be needing them soon. “What do you know about the history of my family, Brill?” she asked.

“What, about your parents? Or your father? Families or braids?”

Miriam shut her eyes. “The civil war,” she murmured. “Who started it?”