“He was my lord's man,” is the important part of tried to assassinate Thranduil, “and there was a time when I was still going to be a comtesse and things mattered that don't any more and when my lord said jump, he knew that Guilfoyle would figure out the correct height himself. He was taken care of, in the event of my lord's death at the battle of Ghislain— he had a personal bequest. More than enough to go and keep bees in the countryside, if he wanted, but he turned up and.”

Her shrug is a bit helpless.

“I told him that I couldn't hire him on and he didn't even dignify me with a conversation, he just found himself somewhere to be. He's been teaching me how to do everything for myself, when he's gone and I can't replace him— he's always been with us. Since before I was born. And I'm the only one left.”

Guilfoyle wears her father's signet ring; lingers, sometimes, beneath the portrait of her mama. He has been the steadying force in her life for all of her life, and she has managed without him and she could, but she isn't as certain that he, at the end of things, would manage without her.

“If he wanted to leave, I wouldn't stop him,” she says, after a beat. “I'd miss him. But I can't tell him he isn't welcome.”