I felt ill, dizzied with the dirty little story. It twisted my memories of the gentle old woman I had tended for the last two years. I had believed her contained and stoic. I had deemed it strength, that she had endured my grandfather’s harsh ways, and tolerated the disrespect of her step-son. Now it seemed something else. The implacable little voice went on.

‘She left Bingtown. Just walked away. She said she did not care what became of her, just so long as she could escape everyone telling her she should confront Howarth. She came to the countryside, and floundered through work as an inn-maid until she married a man she did not love, to tend his son and bear him a daughter. Shortly after your mother was born, she set me aside, for I was the final reminder of the life she had abandoned.’ The tiny face pressed its lips together in a flat line. ‘I begged her to listen to me, even as she wrapped me in linen. I could not stand to see her raise her daughter in submission to her brutish father and that loutish boy of his. She should have her birthright, I said. I told her it was not too late to go back and reclaim her inheritance. But she muffled my voice and shut me away.’

I thought of all the years the pendant had waited in the box. ‘Why did you tell me this?’ I asked it in a low voice.

For the first time, a question seemed to give the pendant pause. It lifted its brows as if amazed I did not know. ‘Because she lives on in me, as do all the women of your line who have worn me. And I would see things set right. I would see you regain what is rightfully yours.’

Rightfully mine. The concept seemed almost foreign. It frightened me. ‘But how? I have no proof, I do not know him, if Howarth still lives and -’

‘Hush. I will guide you. You have the empty ring on your hand and me at your throat. You need no more than this.’