Master Anarawd halts in his steps, and then he looks back at me.

  “An audience with the king?” he repeats. “What is it you need?”

  Blue gurek spin away from his mouth, filling the space between us when he speaks. My eyes fasten on them, and I bite my lip. Fear shivers down my spine.

  I don’t trust him.

  “I’d prefer to keep that between me and the king,” I say, then add hastily, lest he should take offense, “hlaford.”

  Anarawd considers me another moment, his light eyes flicking over my face.

  “King Wthyr holds court every morn until midday,” he says.

  “May I take time out of my chores to speak with him?” I ask, my heart picking up speed at the audacity of my question. At the mere fact that I’m asking it.

  But I’m not a girl anymore. And boys are allowed to seek knowledge.

  “Your time is yours once you’ve done the tasks Gar gives you,” Master Anarawd says. “But I must warn you, the line of people seeking justice is often long, and Wthyr isn’t likely to give time to a servant.”

  I nod, but I’m not deterred. I’ve made it this far. I will convince Wthyr to see me.

  He turns away and continues through the cottage. “You room with Gar, Llew, and Hywel here in the back of the house.”

  “I room with who?” The words sputter out of me before I can retract them, but I’ve stopped dead in my tracks.

  He just listed three men.

  Anarawd doesn’t halt. Perhaps he doesn’t know I did. “You’ve met Gar, you’ll meet the other two soon enough.”

  He’s still walking, and I force myself to lift my feet. Deep breath.

  They won’t know I’m a woman.

  But a tremor starts up in my chest, and I clench my hands to quiet their trembling.

  I’ll be in the same room as three men.

  I’m safe, I tell myself. They won’t hurt me.

  Anarawd reaches the room in the back and turns to frown at me. “Are you always this slow?”

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  “Sorry.” I quicken my steps.

  He’s still frowning as he indicates the room. “There are two beds. You’ll be with Gar.”

  I share a bed with Gar?

  A scream builds in my chest. No. I cannot share a bed with a boy.

  Then I spot the sack of straw against the wall and let out a slow exhale, quieting my racing heart.

  I’ll spread the sack out and sleep on the floor. Gar won’t complain.

  There’s also the matter of nakedness.

  It’s not theirs I’m afraid of. It’s mine.

  If I strip my clothing in front of them, will the screen hold? Will they see a boy like them? Or will their eyes widen when they catch a glimpse of my round breasts and conspicuously flat pwt?

  They’ll have no choice but to report me to Master Anarawd, and then I’ll be burned for sorcery.

  There’s only one solution. I will never change my clothing in front of them.

  Anarawd is speaking, and I tune in when he says supper.

  “The mistress will leave food on the table in the kitchen,” he says. “Come in and get your fill when you finish your chores.”

  Food! My stomach yanks me hard enough that I double over before catching myself. The food Cadwyn gave me is long gone.

  “Are these terms satisfactory to you?”

  “Yes,” I say, licking my lips. I’ll crawl right up into bed with Gar if it means I get to eat. “I work hard. You’ll be pleased you hired me.”

  “Then wear this.” He removes from within his tunic a band of rope with a polished black rock at the end. A symbol is etched into it. “This rock bears my crest, and by wearing it, you show everyone you are my servant. Should I need something, this allows you to act in my name.”

  Heat builds beneath the rock when it settles into my palm. I study the horse carved into the surface. A latent power lies in this stone. No gurek flit about, nothing announces the presence of magic. But I feel something. I slide the rope over my head and let the weight of the rock settle against my chest.

  “Go now to the stable. Find Gar and have him instruct you on his work. Off with you.”

  I nod and dart away. I can’t get too close or too comfortable here. This is a way station for me, not my final destination. I’ll have the chance here to get my bearings, get my feet under me, and decide what to do next.

  I’ll have more direction after I speak with King Wthyr.

  I find Gar in the meadow raking hay.

  “You’ve worked with horses before?” he says. He doesn’t look at me. I think he’s still insulted by my earlier question.

  I consider lying. But if I’m expected to do a job and I do it wrong, I could lose my place in this household. Better to tell the truth and get proper training. I embellish so as to not look like a fool.

  “I’ve spent time around them,” I say. “Mostly my tad’s horses.” My eyes dart toward Prince Madoc’s horse, grazing with the others on the short grasses.

  “That’s your horse?”

  I nod, and hissing laughter echoes in my ears, mocking me. Something bobs in my peripheral vision, and my heart skips a beat. I whip my head around, but there’s no one.

  Yet still I see it.

  The du. Pulling at me, tugging at me. Strong even as they are restrained by the block in my talisman.

  My lies will catch me. I feel them building around me like a web, but I’m not the spider. I’m a helpless insect, unable to get free.

  Gar lifts his gaze, his clear eyes probing over my face. “I found a mark on him.”

  “A mark?” I frown. “On who?”

  “Your horse. A mark like those the noble families put on their beasts.”

  I freeze. I feel my blood congeal in my veins.

  He knows. I’m already caught.

  The du coagulate at the corners of my eyes, like a cloud of gnats gathering reinforcements. A hissing fills the empty spaces of my head, relentless. Get rid of him.