She did not feel the relief she expected as she buckled her sword belt and Davydd smoothed the mail over her shoulders. Instead, she felt the memory of Ranulf’s face pressed into her as he knelt before her and declared his heart a foul thing. She felt hollow, empty where he had lain his head. But her purpose was clear now.

My mother weeps for want of me.

She must go. She had no doubt of it.

“Does my lord ask where you are gone, I can say only that you rode west, Pennaeth Du.” Davydd had been careful not to ask her purpose. He only said he would stay here, acting as squire to a knight of Morency, and she did not question why. “I can say with truth that I know not when you return.”

She remembered the whiteness at the edge of Ranulf’s lips yesterday, as he dropped the letter to the floor and walked away from her, and wondered what he would think when he learned she had left. A sick fluttering in her belly compelled her to find him, go to him, to explain. But she ran her fingers over the buckle that Aidan had handed her, before Madog and her men left her.

I belong with them, she thought.

And the fluttering in her stilled.

She struck west and then rode hard to the south, taking a path less likely to be followed.

He had not come to her bed that night the letter had come. She had had her evening meal brought to her rooms and waited with her heart in her throat. But he had not come. In the morning he was gone before first light, riding out to meet tenants – or so said the servant sent by Hugh Wisbech, who had gone too. A week, perhaps. Five days at the least. Better luck than she had dared hope for. Yet still she felt the pain of it, that so soon would he shun her company.

Nor can I ever be a lady such as he needs, she reminded herself, and she was more sure of this than anything else, and spurred her horse on to Ardleigh.

Edric rode slowly on the road just outside the town, when she found him on the third day. The shock on his face when she revealed herself, this time in armor instead of a fine gown, almost provoked a smile from her. With her assurances that she needed no defending and that he must not call her a lady, he kept his curiosity in check as they rode west.

I must choose, and is right to choose this, she told herself as she wrapped a length of coarse wool around herself that night. It felt right, and good, and familiar – her sword at her side and her mail hanging heavy on her body. There was no more confusion or doubt clouding her mind, and she slept deeply.