‘A miracle or your tender nursing,’ I find I have the strength to tease him, at least.

‘In me our prince found the person he could most trust with your safety. And I’ve dressed more wounds on the field of battle than any other living, I’d wager. And that’—he indicates my injury with a wooden spoon—‘well, you did not come by that falling from a tree or stumbling in a rabbit hole. Handle of some sort, most likely a sword hilt. Though how you came to be engaged so closely to one who wanted to kill you that he could not use the blade is another mystery.’ He turns his attention to the stewpot suspended above the fire, stirring the contents with some effort, so thick and uneven are they.

I force myself to remember the events of that night. The snow. The riders. Their murderous intent. And the Afanc. Tears of gratitude come without warning. I know how she guards the secret of her existence, and yet she risked discovery for me. My sniffing brings an anxious glance from Hywel, so that I wipe my face with my blanket quickly, lest he think me a flimsy child. I become aware that beneath the blanket, save for a grubby tunic, I am naked. Has Hywel really tended me all these days and nights? He is a good man, but to have him be so intimate … But I am being foolish. His skills have saved my life as surely as the Afanc’s appearance saved it earlier. ‘I am in your debt,’ I tell him.

‘There is nothing I would not do for the prince. You, of all people, know what that means,’ he replies without looking at me. He hands me a bowl of stew and a spoon.

‘Yet it was to my benefit. And I am grateful,’ I say. ‘And thankful that Nesta did not put a hand on me!’

Hywel regards me closely now. ‘You do not trust her?’

‘Her loyalties lie with her mistress.’

‘As they should.’

‘So long as the princess’s loyalties are also correctly placed.’

He ponders this statement for some time while I chew the gray meat that swims in the oatmeal broth in my bowl. An attempt has been made to disguise its flavor with the liberal use of garlic. I recall the lavender. ‘Tell me,’ I ask him, ‘do you burn lavender on the fire?’

‘Burn it? No. I used an oil infused with the flowers and leaves. To speed the healing of your head wound.’

‘I am impressed.’