‘And then, well,’ Tilly goes on. ‘Seeing as I never married, I kept assisting my father in Katryna’s household. Katryna was still young. Oh, and clever. She and the Queen’s governess, Corliss, and the other ladies all at their books, studying, studying, all the time. That sham of a doctor here in Bethany’s court was about then too. Not a physician yet, but a tutor. He taught the ladies the old tongues, Greek and Hebrew. Spoke three languages, Katryna did. Knew mathematics. Astrology, too. Mmm.’ She smiles at the memory. Then a grimace passes over her face. ‘But she chose to remarry, Katryna did. To Baron Seymaur. A wolf, that man. Katryna was blind in love. And you couldn’t say they weren’t a handsome couple. Good families, both with claims to the throne. Of course, the baron lost his head for such ambitions. But back then, before all that, they married, and Katryna was with child before you could blink.

‘My father served her through her confinement. Died not long after giving birth, she did. Her wolf of a husband betrayed her. That’s why she died. Not her body, but her heart broke.’ She squeezes Meg’s hand and waits for a wave to pass. ‘And little Bethany, barely past childhood, living in the same house. Never imagined she’d be queen, what with her married sister on the throne sure to soon have an heir—’ Tilly suddenly pauses, and not for pain.

‘But then,’ she says. ‘But then.’ Something’s stuck in her thoughts. ‘I shouldn’t speak of it. I spoke of it once and I fear . . . But I must, mustn’t I?’ She looks at Meg.

‘Cast off your burdens,’ Meg comforts.

Tilly looks away and takes a ragged breath. ‘Is it treason to deceive one of royal blood?’

‘Why, Tilly!’ hisses Meg.

‘Oh, now, Meg, I’ve lived a life.’

‘But, Tilly, you surely did no such thing,’ Meg’s eyes are wide and white in her face. ‘As I heard it, when Katryna went into seclusion for the birth, she was already doing poorly. Whatever you told her as she lay dying was surely not deception.’

Tilly shakes her head. ‘Wasn’t her. I made a promise to Bethany.’

Meg’s head bobs in hesitation like a cat sniffing about a new room. ‘Tilly?’

Tilly grasps suddenly for Meg’s hand, her eyes closed tight. ‘Coming quicker now,’ she whispers. More tears well up. ‘We all made a promise to Bethany, but we broke it. What could we do? We wanted her to be queen. Oh, it burns so!’

‘Your belly?’ asks Meg.

‘My lips,’ answers Tilly. ‘Give me the cup, I’m like to die of thirst.’