“Planning on breaking any more pots?”

“I’ll break all the wretched pots I want!”

He rose to his feet, turning a particular look on me. “It’s just, these are your work things. Useful things. Also, they belong to Cahercorcan, not us. Might be cross with yourself later.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Not to you and not to anyone.”

He simply stood there, a big solemn presence, making me feel like an ill-tempered child screaming over some thwarted desire. I seized a cloth and began to mop up the worktable. In my current state, I had no more hope of completing this distillation than I had of becoming the woman I had been, the one Flannan seemed to think I still could be. Or should be.

“He’s upset you,” Grim said. When I made to speak, he went on. “I know—you don’t want to talk about it. But he’s upset you.”

“It’s my business, Grim.”

“Don’t like to see you angry. Not like this, throwing things and cursing.”

I smiled, surprising myself. “Really? You put up with it all right in the lockup. A whole year of it.”

“Different in there,” he said, fetching the millet broom from its corner to deal with the smaller fragments. “We needed it, the rest of us, to keep us going. Reminded us we were still alive. Stopped us from giving up.”

I examined my skirt; those stains would be hard to get out. “I wonder if it was worth it,” I said. “Staying alive. Getting through that hellish year and the time before. I wonder what the point of it was.”

Now I had really shocked him. I had even shocked myself.

“Start thinking like that,” Grim said, “and you lose hold of hope. Hope’s all we’ve got. You taught me that, remember?”

“Mm.” I was realizing that I had just made an exhibition of myself for no good reason. I had broken some perfectly good crockery and ruined a perfectly good gown. I’d lashed out at Grim, who had committed no offense beyond walking in at the wrong moment. And all because Flannan had brought not only himself but the ghosts of the painful past. “He implied I was a coward,” I said, rubbing at invisible traces of the spillage on the table. “A lesser woman than I once was, because I said I wouldn’t go west and deal with Lady Geiléis’s monster in the tower. He said Cass believed I could do anything I wanted to. What he meant—what Flannan meant—was that if I stayed here, stayed safe, I was proving Cass wrong.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Grim’s big hands clench into fists and wished I had not spoken. A moment later, he let out a breath and relaxed them.

“Cass was right,” he said. “Had faith in you. Me too. And other folk. Lady Flidais and the prince. All the people you look after. Flannan hasn’t seen you for—what, twelve, thirteen years? What would he know?” A pause. “Throw some more stuff if you want. If it makes you feel better. Go right ahead—don’t mind me.”