His voice had shrunk to a whisper. My face was wet with tears.

“Tell him,” said Liam, “tell him that if he thinks his fine words of love will win him our sister as his wife, he is sorely deluded. Sorcha will never return to that place; she is the daughter of Sevenwaters, and she belongs here.”

Conor translated this, adding, “You’d best have left it, back then. Not put yourself to the trouble of coming all this way. Sorcha is barely sixteen years old, and subject to her father’s authority. You cannot imagine that even if she were willing, he would allow her to cross the sea and ally herself to a Briton.”

Red took a deep breath. “Indeed, such a thought was far from my mind. I would not have come, save for—but for—had she not said farewell as she did, I would not have come. But—but she had a way of—that is, I believed, there was the smallest hope, the tiniest seed of a hope, that perhaps she did—that is…”

“Is your tale finished?” Conor was unbending. “Have you more to say? It grows late, and cold.”

“I should make it clear to you,” said Red, his tone firmer. “I understand your sister cannot return across the sea. I never expected that. It was for this reason that I delayed so long before coming to seek her. Long enough to set right the affairs of Harrowfield, long enough to see my uncle duly punished for his wrongdoing, and to pass over responsibility for my house and my estate to my brother. I will not go back there. Whether Jenny will have me or not, I have said farewell to that life.”

There was complete silence. The magnitude of such a decision was not lost on any of them. Even Conor, after translating these words, had nothing to say. As for me, my mind could hardly credit what Red had said. And yet, I knew it must be the truth. His fair acres, his shining river, his flocks, and his herds, and the good folk that loved him. The valley with its soft cloak of oak and beech, birch and willow. The careful record of generations. My picture had been on the last page of that journal. The last page of the last book. He would never see his young oaks grow to shelter the wild creatures of Harrowfield. All this, he had given up for me.

“You think to stay here,” said Liam incredulously, when at length the silence was broken. “A Briton, in our household, wed to our sister, whom we cherish more dearly than life itself. You are a misguided fool.”

I turned on my brother, furious.

Wait just a little longer, came Finbar’s silent caution, and I held back my angry words.

And then my father rose slowly to his feet.

“Untie his hands, Sorcha,” he said gravely. “Take off the cloth that binds his eyes. This is your decision, your choice. You are a woman now, and the sacrifice you made for your brothers has earned you the right to determine your own path, though it may not be to our liking.”