Black Fingers stands across from him, his eyes dark from rim to centre. ‘The sin eater was not summoned,’ he says low and hard to the Willow Tree.

‘Her arrival is surely a portent,’ says the Willow Tree back. ‘Where was she found?’ He seems calm and settled, not at all like I saw him last night. It makes him all the more terrifying.

‘She was found in the banner room,’ Black Fingers says. ‘Near the Makerhall.’

The Willow Tree gets very still. If he didn’t know it was me who saw him in the Makerhall, he must surely guess it now. The air in the room feels too close and smells of smoke like the chimney’s not been swept.

Black Fingers tugs at his ear. ‘Is she responsible for the bloody horror found this morn in our Queen’s Makerhall? Is she our witch?’

The Willow Tree lifts his head. A square of sunlight falls on half his face, ‘If she was near the place . . .’

Oh, Maker mine. He’s going to blame me for his sorcery. My teeth start shaking again.

Black Fingers’s voice gets low. ‘I will question her. And I will make this one speak.’ The shaking moves from my teeth to my guts.

‘No,’ the Willow Tree says quick. ‘I will take her and perform a witch’s trial instead.’ He doesn’t want me to tell Black Fingers what I saw.

‘The Queen’s protection is my purview, not yours,’ Black Fingers snaps.

‘And witches are my purview,’ the Willow Tree says back.

I don’t know which is worse: to be crushed by stones by Black Fingers or bled and burned by the Willow Tree. The smell of smoke gets stronger. I must be swooning.

‘The Queen is threatened on all sides,’ spits Black Fingers. ‘Witches, Eucharistian spies, and two of her own ladies shown to be murderesses of royalty by the deer hearts on their coffins! Other sovereigns will not waste time in taking advantage of a Queen so weakened by scandal. If this creature’ – he nods towards me – ’can offer any intelligence on the matter, I will discover it!’

The Willow Tree gives a barking sort of laugh. ‘The Norman king doesn’t believe Queen Bethany is complicit in her ladies’ sins. Neither does the Lowland king, nor her Eucharistian cousin in the North. No, sir, they hear of deer hearts on coffins and see our Queen surrounded by traitors and spies, just as they fear they themselves are. The deer hearts are no threat to her.’

‘And the witches?! The Eucharistians?!’

‘I will protect her!’ The Willow Tree’s voice gets too loud for the room. ‘The ancients foretold a virgin queen who would unify the world under one faith. I do the Maker’s work! And you, sir?’ His voice gets even louder still. ‘Your statecraft is to kill and scheme and plot like a common rogue!’