Grim hadn’t had much choice. He’d killed Flannan to save my life. The whole episode had been sickening. It had reminded me afresh of how perilous our situation was, for Flannan, whom I had thought a friend and ally, had been sent by Mathuin of Laois to track me down. Even now, Mathuin might be wondering why his errand boy had sent no further word, no pigeon bearing the news that I was safely accounted for. The fact was, although my enemy might now assume that I was dead, he’d possibly want to make quite sure of it. He knew I would not be easily silenced. He knew I’d lay my life on the line to see him brought to justice. And now, because of the messages Flannan had sent him, Mathuin must know where I was, or at least where I’d been. The cold feeling in my gut told me Mathuin wasn’t going to leave this alone.

Nearly home. I could smell something cooking, perhaps barley broth. Fresh bread, too. Grim was a capable cook and an excellent gardener, and we ate well. My spirits lifted. There had been good things about the day: Aolú’s robust health and Flidais’s trust, the fact that my tonic seemed to be easing the old woman’s rattling cough, and now the welcoming light in the windows. Maybe I was turning soft. Maybe vengeance was beyond me now. But no; that was not true. I only had to think of what I had lost; of my husband and child burning, and Mathuin’s men holding me back and laughing as my family died. Of the lost souls in the lockup and the ruined lives of Mathuin’s victims. I would see him face justice. I would make that happen if I died doing it.

Ripple barked, inside the cottage. A moment later the door opened and the dog came out to hurl a challenge to all comers. Then the big form of Grim appeared in the doorway and Ripple, quieter now, ran to greet me.

‘Long day?’ Grim reached to take my bag.

‘Long enough. I rode to Silverlake and back. Scannal said he’d seen you earlier.’

‘Did a few jobs for him in the morning.’ Grim deposited the bag and went to stir a pot that was bubbling on the fire. ‘This and that.’ He gave me a searching look. ‘You all right?’

‘More or less.’ It was uncomfortable, sometimes, how well he could read me. ‘Thoughts going round in circles, that’s all.’

‘Anything special?’ He set the pot on the flagstones by the hearth, found a ladle and began filling two bowls. A platter of bread and cheese was already on the table. Ripple settled in her favourite spot close to the fire.