Without thinking, I drew the cord from around my neck, and cut it cleanly with the small sharp knife I kept in my bag with my ointments and salves. The little oak ring tumbled onto my palm, warm and smooth from lying next to my heart. I slipped the ring gently onto the third finger of my left hand. It encircled my finger as if made for it; as indeed it had been.

I was overwhelmed by tears, flooding down my cheeks in an unstoppable torrent, and there was nobody sitting quietly by me to offer a clean handkerchief when I needed it. Nobody sitting close, but not too close, letting me weep, but ready to help when I was ready to ask. I covered my face with my hands, thinking I could not bear such sorrow for very much longer. I was only sixteen. Was the rest of my life to be lived thus, half awake, half alive, never fully complete? What had I done wrong to be thus cursed?

“Nothing,” said a voice nearby.

I looked up between tear-soaked fingers. She was standing near me, regarding me gravely, her cloak of midnight blue the only vivid patch of color amid the winter trees. “You have done well, daughter of the forest. Your work for us is nearly finished. You have been strong. Almost too strong.”

I sniffed. She had taken her time, coming back. “Nearly finished?” I stammered. “I thought it was over. My brothers are returned. I completed the task. What more can there be?”

The Lady of the Forest smiled. “That was all you were asked to do, and you did indeed prove brave and true, Sorcha. There is but one more thing. You will know, when it is time.”

Already she was starting to fade back under the trees.

“Wait!” I said urgently, as if one such as she would heed a mortal’s plea. “Please wait! I need you to tell me—I need you to explain…”

“What, child?” She arched her brows as if she found me amusing.

“You hurt him. You hurt both of us. You said—back then, in the cave—you told me I had chosen well. Was that all he was, some sort of guard you bound to me for a time, so that I could complete the task in safety? Was that your only purpose in drawing him close to me? Why cast such a spell over him, and wound us both to the heart? You knew we would have to let go, once the task was completed.”

The Lady frowned a little, puzzled. “What spell can you mean, daughter?”

“The spell, the enchantment you laid on Lord Hugh, to bind him to me, so that he must guard me, and watch over me, even at the expense of all he held dear. It was a cruel spell. I could have looked after myself, I would rather not have…” My fingers were twisting the ring, around and round. She laughed, a high, mirthful laugh like the splashing of a waterfall.