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“You were a boy. And I know my place, even do you not know your own.” She was cleaning the mud from her boots, and did not look up from her task. She did not laugh. “You’ll find a good lady soon enough, worthy of your name and estate.”

After that, he bid Gryff good night and went to keep watch by his horse.

Nan went with him, and Gryff could hear their whispering at the edge of the clearing for what felt like hours.

He could make out no words, but it was her voice as much as his.

It seemed to go on and on, more than she had ever spoken to Gryff.

He tried not to think of the dagger she wore over her heart, and how the symbol on it looked very much like the letter R.

He lay awake and reminded himself that they had made no promises to each other, spoken no vows.

They had barely spoken at all, and it had not seemed to matter until now.

But it did matter – of course it did – that before he had ever met her, she had had a life and a purpose, people she cared for.

So many things she must leave behind if she were to come with him to Wales.

For himself, he left little behind but danger.

And there was little that would greet him – no family, no lands, no name he could claim.

She came to him finally, a quiet and careful step, and knelt beside him.

“I must go with Robin to the manor tomorrow,” she said low. “Will you come? We need not stay the night there.” She spoke Welsh, but he did not answer. Her hand brushed against his shoulder and rested there. “I know you wake, Welshman.”

He tried to imagine watching her walk away with the handsome, smiling Robin, disappearing into a manor while he waited sullenly to see if she returned to him.

“I will go whither you go,” he said at last. “If you do truly want me with you.”

Her hand moved to cup his throat, her thumb stroking his jaw for a long moment of silence.

“Robin is my bosom friend, since he was a child. He is like a brother to me. You need not fear I have any secret desire for him.”

He wanted to pull her down onto him, to feel her hair spill free between their naked bodies and kiss her, make her gasp with pleasure until she forgot everything but him. He hated that he could not.

“And if he has a secret desire for you?”

“He does not.” There was laughter behind her words, as though she found the idea absurd. But she sensed his doubt. She spread her fingers over his cheek as she leaned over him and said, “Think you I would not if know he lusted me? Think you I could be easy with him if he did? Have sense, Welshman.”

Like a fog lifting, the doubt left him. Never would she be so free with Robin – embracing him, allowing his nearness, smiling as he greeted her with kisses – if there was even the chance he felt more than brotherly toward her.

She whispered a good night and brushed her lips softly against Gryff’s before retreating to sleep a short distance from him.

Somehow he slept, and in the morning they walked to Whitting.

It was only two hours, and Gryff might have forgotten to worry about what awaited them there if not for Robin, whose every manner suggested anticipation of a great surprise.

Something even better than pork pie , he had said last night, and Gryff could not fathom what it might be.

Nan had obviously told Robin last night, as part of their whispering, that Gryff came from Aderinyth.

When Robin asked why he had not said so, Gryff only shrugged and said he had been a boy when last he had seen the place.

They spoke of falconry in yet more detail for the short journey, and Gryff felt his dislike for Robin Manton dissolve almost completely.

They reached the manor long before midday.

It was not a large place, but very well kept with a good number of buildings in excellent repair.

The prosperous manor of an inconsequential lord, he thought, until he saw the dovecote, and the very fine palfreys in the stables. Gryff pulled his hood up, wary.

“Good fortune is with us again, Nan.”

Robin was smiling at her as he handed his rouncey over to a boy who had run from the stables. Nan raised her eyebrows at him in question as they walked toward the hall. Just as they reached it, a man stepped out, his face full of surprise and pleasure. Fuss immediately ran to him, yelping happily.

Robin cried, “Uncle Rob!” and threw his arms around him in greeting.

This, apparently, was the surprise. Gryff felt only relief that he did not recognize the man. He was older, with gray hair at his temples and deep lines of laughter around his eyes. He and Robin were alike in their warm and cheerful demeanor, obvious at a glance.

“There’s our Nan,” said Lord Robert with gentle satisfaction, when he broke free of Robin’s embrace.

He looked down at her where she had sunk into a deep courtesy before him, her head bowed.

There was a fond smile on his face as he stepped close and gave her a chuck under the chin.

It was a fatherly gesture, far too familiar to be an ordinary exchange between lord and servant girl.

Gryff’s confusion at it changed to amazement when Nan raised her face.

She flushed with pleasure and looked at Lord Robert with a shy kind of delight, as though she not only did not mind that he touched her uninvited, but hoped he might do it again.

“You’ve been to Lincoln?” he asked her, and she nodded. “The message?”

“I have delivered it, my lord.” She glanced quickly in Robin’s direction, and then at Gryff, clearly indicating she had more to say when they might be more private.

“There will be time enough for tales after I greet your guest,” he said.

He turned to Gryff, who realized belatedly that he should bow. It was far more restrained than Nan’s show of deference, and in any case Lord Robert disregarded it in favor of an outthrust arm, a firm shake of his hand when Robin gave his name and said he was Welsh.

“It will be Gruffydd, then.” Lord Robert smiled at him like an old friend. “Though I will call you Gryff, do you prefer it. Well met, and my lady wife will be most glad to greet you.”

Nan gave a sharp intake of breath and looked at Lord Robert with an eager hope. “Aye,” he grinned, and Robin laughed. “You will find her in the solar above.”

He nodded to a stair, and Nan fairly ran to it, so fast was her step.

They followed more slowly in her wake, with Robin telling of how he had met Nan on the road and hoped Lord Robert would be at Whitting but could not be sure, and so left it to be a surprise.

Gryff knew they would ask how he and Nan had met, why he was with her, and he tried to think of some simple explanation for it.

These people seemed as family to her, strangely as protective of a servant as they would be of a daughter and sister.

They would not simply accept that he traveled alone with her.

They reached the solar, stepping inside just as Lord Robert was saying that his lady wife was Welsh too, and that his new lordship of Darian was in Wales – information that came too suddenly and too fast, and all at the same moment that Gryff saw the face of this lady wife. His heart stopped. Everything stopped.

Lady Eluned. Will’s mother. God help him, she would know him at a glance.

Quickly, he pulled his hood closer, letting it hang as far down as he could manage, angling his face away from her. He forced himself to breathe slowly and said a silent prayer that she would not see him, not recognize him.

He had been barely fourteen when she had come to visit her son and spent an afternoon in conversation with him and Gryff.

There were as many years on his face as hers, he reasoned, and a scar, and he had the advantage of having been a forgettable boy while she was as great and formidable a lady then as she was now.

If Will’s father was dead, then she must have remarried this Lord Robert.

A new lordship of Darian in Wales – he had heard this was what Edward had done with the conquered land, parceling it out to favorites.

It was true to Lady Eluned’s nature, to keep herself in power and wealth by marrying a man who had been granted Welsh lands.

And somehow she had come to know Nan, whose hand she clasped tight in fond greeting, a palm cupping her cheek, affectionate as a mother.

She did not look in Gryff’s direction, so focused was she on Nan.

And Nan... Nan was giving her such a look that it stunned him.

It reminded him of when she had seen her sister, all the joy and relief and love, but with something more.

Respect and reverence. He thought of her face in the glow of firelight, a half-peeled turnip in her hands as she said, A great lady saved me .

This was the lady. Lady Eluned had saved her. Of all people, Lady Eluned.

He drifted slowly backward, praying he might inch his way out of the room before being noticed, as they conversed with perfect ease of ordinary things.

Yes, Nan had been to Lincoln, and her tone forbade speaking of it any further as Gryff stole a glance at the other ladies in the room.

He thought he recognized one, and pulled his hood even closer.

Lady Eluned was explaining that they had journeyed out of Wales to do business at court and had only lately come to Whitting, while Gryff took a small step backward, almost stepping on Fuss.

Their voices went on, a gentle rise and fall as he prayed for a quiet and unseen escape from this pleasant lion’s den.

Word had come from Morency that Sir Gerald was healing well; the prioress at Broadholme sent greetings to Lady Eluned who was a patroness of the order; they had worried for Nan when they received word of the attack that had injured Sir Gerald.

All the while, Gryff kept his head down and made his way to the door, inch by slow inch.

He was at the threshold when he heard Lady Eluned raise her voice a little to say, “But now you must tell us, Nan, how it is you have found a prince in your travels.”

His stomach dropped. He froze, not even breathing, and turned his eyes up to look at Lady Eluned.

She watched him steadily, perfectly composed. She glanced at Nan’s puzzled face, and raised her eyebrows in polite surprise. “Did you not know?”

Nan blinked at her, uncomprehending, then turned to Gryff for explanation. He could say nothing. He could only wait for Eluned to say it.

“I see I must introduce you.”

They were all looking at him now, everyone in the room. He pushed his hood back, because there was no use in hiding. A feeling of unreality came over him as Eluned’s eyes fixed on him and proclaimed his name.

“This is Gruffydd ab Iorwerth ap Cynan Goch, the last Prince of Aderinyth.” Her eyes never left his, not for one syllable of it. “This is Nan,” she said to him, infinite power in the way her hand settled lightly on Nan’s shoulder. “And she is under my protection.”