I’d have liked a bit more height myself, but I was little, skinny, dark haired, the sort of girl a man wouldn’t look twice at. Not that I cared. I had plenty to occupy me without thinking that far ahead. It was Niamh they followed with their eyes, for she was tall and broad shouldered, made in our father’s image, and she had a long fall of bright hair and a body that curved generously in all the right places. Without even knowing it, she walked in a way that drew men’s eyes.

“That one’s trouble,” our kitchen woman Janis would mutter over her pots and pans. As for Niamh herself, she was ever critical.

“Isn’t it bad enough being half Briton,” she said crossly, “without having to look the part as well? See this?” She tugged at her thick plait, and the red-gold strands unraveled in a shining curtain. “Who would take me for a daughter of Sevenwaters? I could be a Saxon with this head of hair! Why couldn’t I be tiny and graceful like Mother?”

I studied her for a moment or two as she began to wield the hairbrush with fierce strokes. For one so displeased with her appearance, she did spend rather a lot of time trying out new hairstyles and changing her gown and ribbons.

“Are you ashamed to be the daughter of a Briton?” I asked her.

She glared at me. “That’s so like you, Liadan. Always come straight out with it, don’t you? It’s all very well for you; you’re a small copy of Mother yourself, her little right hand. No wonder Father adores you. For you it’s simple.”

I let her words wash over me. She could be like this at times, as if there were too many feelings inside her and they had to burst out somewhere. The words themselves meant nothing. I waited.

Niamh used her hairbrush like an instrument of punishment. “Sean, too,” she said, glaring at herself in the mirror of polished bronze. “Did you hear what Father called him? He said, he’s the son Liam never had. What do you think of that? Sean fits in; he knows exactly where he’s going. Heir to Sevenwaters, beloved son with not one but two fathers—he even looks the part. He’ll do all the right things—wed Aisling, which will make everyone happy, be a leader of men, maybe even the one who wins the Islands back for us. His children will follow in his footsteps, and so on, and so on. Brighid save me, it’s so tedious! It’s so predictable.”

“You can’t have it both ways,” I said. “Either you want to fit in, or you don’t. Besides, we are the daughters of Sevenwaters, like it or not. I’m sure Eamonn will wed you gladly when it’s time, golden hair or no. I’ve heard no objections from him.”

“Eamonn? Huh!” She moved to the center of the room, where a shaft of light struck gold against the oak boards of the floor, and in this spot she began slowly to turn, so that her white gown and her brilliant shining hair moved around her like a cloud. “Don’t you long for something different to happen, something so exciting and new it carries you along with it like a great tide, something that lets your life blaze and burn so the whole world can see it? Something that touches you with joy or with terror, that lifts you out of your safe, little path and onto a great, wild road whose ending nobody knows? Don’t you ever long for that, Liadan?” She turned and turned, and she wrapped her arms around herself as if this were the only way she could contain what she felt.