Miriam’s reluctant nod seemed to satisfy her, because she nodded: “Remember, a lady never unintentionally gives offense—especially to people she depends on to keep her alive. If you can hang onto just one rule to help you survive in the Clan, make it that one. But I’m losing the plot. How are you doing? Have there been any after-effects?”

“After-effects?” Miriam caught her hand at her chin and forced herself to stop. She flushed, pulse jerking with an adrenalin-surge of remembered fear and anger. “I—” She lowered her hand. “Oh, nothing physical,” she said bitterly. “Nothing…”

“I’ve been thinking about him a lot lately, Miriam. He wouldn’t have been good for you, you know.”

“I know.” The younger woman—youth being relative, she wouldn’t be seeing thirty again—dropped her gaze. “The political entanglements made it a messy prospect at best,” she said bitterly. “Even if you discounted his weaknesses.” The duchess didn’t reply. Eventually Miriam looked up, her eyes burning with emotions she’d experienced only since learning to be Helge. “I haven’t forgiven him, you know.”

“Forgiven Roland?” The duchess’s tone sharpened.

“No. Your goddamn half-brother. He’s meant to be in charge of security! But he—” her voice began to break.

“Yes, yes, I know. And do you think he has been sleeping well lately? I’m led to believe he’s frantically busy right now. Losing Roland was the least of our problems, if you’ll permit me to be blunt, and Angbard has a major crisis to deal with. Your affair with him can be ignored, if it comes to it, by the Council. It’s not as if you’re a teenage virgin to be despoiled, damaging some aristocratic alliance by losing your honor—and you’d better think about that some more in future, because honor is the currency in the circles you move in, a currency that once spent is very hard to regain—but the deeper damage to the Clan that Matthias inflicted—”

“Tell me about it,” Miriam said bitterly. “As soon as I was back on my feet they told me I could only run courier assignments to and from a safe house. And I’m not allowed to go home!”

“Matthias knows you,” her mother pointed out. “If he mentioned you to his new employers—”

“I understand.” Miriam subsided in a sullen silence, arms crossed before her and back set defensively. After a moment she started tapping her toes.

“Stop that!” Moderating her tone, the duchess added: “if you do that in public it sends entirely the wrong message. Appearances are everything, you’ve got to learn that.”

“Yes, mother.”

After a couple of minutes, the duchess spoke. “You’re not happy.”

“No.”

“And it’s not just—him.”

“Correct.” Her hem twitched once more before Helge managed to control the urge to tap.

The duchess sighed. “Do I have to drag it out of you?”

“No, Iris.”

“You shouldn’t call me that here. Bad habits of thought and behavior, you know.”

“Bad? Or just inappropriate? Liable to send the wrong message?”