“We have news, Sorcha,” said Liam, stooping to come in, and removing his wet cloak at the same time. Over the field armor he still wore his battle tunic, with the symbol of Sevenwaters on the breast. Two torques interlocked; the outer world, and the inner. This world and the Otherworld. For in the life of the lake and the forest the two were inextricably entwined. “You must come home with us straightaway,” he went on. “There are changes afoot, and Father requires your presence. He was displeased to learn that you had stayed here so long, whatever the need of your skills in herbalism.”

“Father?” I asked skeptically. “I’m surprised he showed the least interest in my whereabouts. Hasn’t he better things to occupy his attention?”

Cormack was talking to the dog, getting her to calm down, bringing her inside. Her whole body wriggled and she gave small whines of excitement, as if she could barely contain herself.

“He made no objection to your spending some time learning from Father Brien,” said Finbar pointedly, “or sharing your skills with him. He has your marriage prospects in mind, maybe—it is a useful craft for a woman. But now—” he broke off, and I detected a note of deep unease in his voice.

“Now what?” There was something none of them was telling me.

Liam picked up a beeswax candle from the table, rolling it between his fingers. Cormack sat down on the edge of the bed, and the dog jumped up beside him, sniffing at the bedding. I watched her; she had her eyes on the doorway, expectant. Was there anything here that might give us away—a pair of boots, a bloodstained bandage? There had been so little time. I looked up at Finbar; something more than the risk that Simon would be found was troubling him.

“Father has returned,” said Liam heavily, “and with an intended bride. She comes from northern parts, and he will wed her a few days hence. It was sudden, and unexpected. He wants all his children there for the wedding feast.”

“A bride?” After what Father Brien had told us, this seemed almost impossible.

“It’s true,” said Cormack. “Who’d have thought he had it in him? What’s more, she’s young, beautiful, and charming with it. New lease on life for the old man. You should see Diarmid. Follows her around all day making calf’s eyes.”

Liam frowned at him. “It is not so simple,” he said. “We know next to nothing about this woman, the lady Oonagh is her name, save that he met her when we were quartered with Lord Eamonn of the Marshes, and she was a guest in that house. Of her own folk she has said little, I believe—or he has chosen not to share it with us.”

“I can’t believe that he would marry again,” I said, relief that they had not come for Simon mixed with shocked incredulity, “he is so—so—”

“Impervious?” said Finbar. “Not to her. She is—different; as glittering and dangerous as some exotic snake. You will know when you see her, why he has done this.”