I am soon for my bed, but I become aware of footfalls along the path outside. I listen, head cocked. Three people. One striding bold and loud as only a young man can, rudely waking everything he passes. The others are softer. Women, I believe. I slip on my cape and step out of the hut. As I do so I am hailed by my visitors to warn me of their proximity, as if I were unaware of their approach! The youth I recognize as Siōn, the son of the princess’s brother, the family likeness marked with his green eyes and dark complexion, who is evidently accompanying his elders to afford them the enormous benefit of his protection. He steps to one side and stands feet apart, arms folded. His stance is arrogant, but his body is that of a boy, not yet hardened by years or the grit of manhood. The women come forward. Both wear deep hoods in some small effort to mask their identities, but the ruse is pointless, given the expensive fabric of the taller woman’s garb, and the stout girth of her companion. A simpleton in his cups would know them.

I stand tall. ‘Princess Wenna, good evening to you.’

‘Forgive us for disturbing you so late, Seren Arianaidd.’ Her use of my full name—not her habit—suggests she is eager to win my favor. She wants something from me, that much is plain. Her maid, Nesta—for it can be no other—stomps her feet against the cold and her mistress takes the point. ‘I would speak with you,’ the princess goes on. ‘Perhaps your house would afford us more privacy?’

And more warmth. I nod, holding open the door so that they may enter, but shaking my head when Rhodri’s boy attempts to join us. ‘We would all feel so much safer with you standing guard,’ I tell him, and he smiles happily, having not the wit to hear the mockery in my voice.