Perhaps it would rain. This secret place had been sealed against the weather a long time, until the violent storms of this season’s turning had begun to uncover it. She bent to shift a slab of flagstone, to drag it across the opening she had widened. Another time. There was plenty of time. Summer was on the way, and the days were light and long. Maybe she’d tell Kinart, and maybe not. If he stopped teasing her about how she made up names for things, if he stopped saying she’d never find a husband, then she’d show her cousin the place she had discovered. Who wanted a husband anyway? One of her sisters could find one and produce the son required to secure the kingship. Her sisters were older and prettier and quite good at sewing and baking bread. They couldn’t fish, and they couldn’t row, and they couldn’t run or climb or swim as well as Nessa could. Kinart said husbands cared nothing for those sorts of skills. It was other things they wanted. What things? Nessa had asked him. But when he told her, she thought he must be joking.