“You wouldn’t be allowed. Not with the Regent as angry as she is with your mother over the Sutterdown assassins. It took some months for the news to percolate down, but that’s why each family has withdrawn their maidens and none have offered you a spot.”

She eyed Yseult, but Yseult shook her head. “Mama never said what happened with the Re . . . Wait! The Lady Regent was mad at Mama because brother Odard saved the life of the Mackenzie and the Wanderer? I mean, I mean, mostly he was trying to keep the Princess safe . . . She’s not very easy to keep safe.”

Romarec shot a quick glance up and down the length of the hall before saying softly: “Little Mistress, your mother does you no favors by keeping you ignorant.”

Yseult sniffed and pushed the heavy white cloth into the housekeeper’s hands. She pulled out her hankie and wiped her eyes and blew her nose defiantly.

“Sorry, I was afraid I’d drip on that pure cloth. Mama would have had kittens—more kittens. Mama—Mama and Uncle did something, and Odard came back really angry, but I didn’t hear what he said to her. She wouldn’t tell me, anyway. Sometimes the other maids-in-waiting would tell me things.”

Yseult felt her lip pout out and sucked it back in. Lady Mary had a habit of pinching it if she pouted in front of her. The housekeeper shook her head and hesitated, before opening the door to the large bright room that was the servants’ sewing room. Five peasant girls were sitting by the north-facing windows. They looked up and smiled before continuing their work. Romarec spread the altar cloth with its white on white counted cross-stitch over a table in the back. She lowered her voice.

“It’s not something I should talk to you about; it’s not safe. The Lady Regent was so furious your mother nearly lost her head. Those assassins were sent by a kingdom to the east; Cutters they call them. Your mother and your Uncle Guelf snuck them in, hid them, and gave them money and information. Your mother’s goal, as she told me, was the death of the Mackenzie tanist. Rudi Mackenzie, their Chief’s son. But it all went wrong, and the Princess Mathilda and Lord Odard were put in mortal peril as well.”

Yseult froze, the room going dark around her. Sparks of light starred the blackness and she swayed, clumsily thrusting a hand out for balance. Romarec’s scolding sounded distant through the sea-surf roaring in her ears. Something hit the back of her legs and she sat abruptly on a hard chair. A glass was thrust in her hands and that distant voice ordered her: “Sip!”