It was infinitely more pleasant to consider these niceties than to let herself consider the wave of emotion that waited impatiently just beyond the numbness. Relief and joy, that her mother was here. Fear and shame, of what her mother might see in her. Much easier, to turn her mind to these domestic matters.

She spoke to Davydd. “Go you and find my lord, to tell him Lady Eluned is come unexpected and will soon arrive.”

His face was pained, as though he would say something that he knew would be unwelcome. She ignored this, and looked to Gwyn.

“How far behind is the Ruardean party, only as far as the village?”

It was another voice entirely that replied.

“Only as far as the inner court, daughter.”

The sight of her mother among the apple trees, the steward by her side, seemed an impossible vision. Yet it must be real. Her gown was marked with dirt from long riding, exhaustion in her posture. Despite the weariness that lined Eluned’s face and the road-dust that covered her skirt, there was nothing but a fierce love shining in her eyes when she looked at her daughter.

Gwenllian stared at her, and felt like a lost child who was suddenly found. Blinking hard, she ran to her mother, arms outstretched. She did not stop to care what the men around them might think.

Her mother’s arms wrapped around her tightly, and Gwenllian almost collapsed with relief to be so readily accepted. The joy was so great that it almost drowned out the shame that rose up in her. She bit hard on her lips to stop herself sobbing like a child. She buried her face in her mother’s shoulder, thoughts of her many failures coming unbidden.

She had not done well with King Edward. He had bested her. She was married to Morency, of all men. She had been sent to gain political advantage, but instead had been caught in the coils of the king’s power within hours. All the tables turned, since last she’d seen her mother.

Even worse, she wore a dress and not armor. Worst of all, that she could never wear armor again.

And secretly, quietly, the greatest guilt, one that she had only begun to admit to herself – that she did not truly hate any of these things.

“Leave us,” her mother was saying. “We wish to be private.”

And then they were alone.

Gwenllian lingered in her mother’s embrace, hiding her face and taking comfort for as long as she might.

“Come,” came Eluned’s soothing voice. “Come, daughter, there is no sense in wasting time with tears. We have much to do.”

For a moment, Gwenllian only heard the tremor in her mother’s voice, the emotion that lay beneath the practical words.