I wasn’t sure I believed in true love, the kind of grand sweeping passion told of in the ancient tales. Oran and Flidais came close. Then there’d been Lady Geiléis of Bann and her bespelled sweetheart. But they were extraordinary. Grim and I were . . . we were ourselves. Friends. Good friends. Companions who slept in the same bedchamber, but not in the same bed. He looked after me, kept me safe, saved me from my own rash impulses, stood by and let me rant and throw things when I needed to. I gave him a home. A purpose. That was the way he saw it. I stayed with him at night so that when the burdens of the past became overwhelming he would not find himself alone in the dark. I valued his hard work, his gentle nature, his strength, his quiet wisdom. But that wasn’t true love. I’d loved my husband. We’d been tender toward each other, back in the time before Mathuin, when I’d still been capable of softness. What I felt for Grim was . . . different. Different from anything else.

‘Brew?’

I started. While I’d been wrapped in my thoughts, Grim had cleared away the bowls and put the kettle on the fire, all without saying a word.

‘Mm.’

‘Conmael will turn up when he’s ready,’ Grim said. ‘No point worrying about it.’

I wrenched my mind back to our conversation. ‘Something might have happened to him.’

Grim gave me a sideways look. ‘You planning to go hunting for him in the Otherworld? Might be a bit much, even for you.’

‘Of course not. I wouldn’t know where to start. Only, if he’s gone somewhere and isn’t coming back, then . . .’

‘Might be a sort of test. Maybe he’s waiting to see if you rush off south again, soon as you think he’s not looking.’

‘A pox on it!’ I thumped my fist on the table, making spoons rattle. ‘I’m sick of waiting! What am I doing here?’

Grim went on making the brew. The movement of his big hands was measured, careful. After some time, he said, ‘You want me to answer that?’

‘No. I know already what you’ll say. Doing good. Helping folk. Just like Conmael told me to. That’s one side of the scales, I know. But it can never balance five more years of Mathuin doing what he does.’

There was a pause. ‘Could be,’ Grim said in a voice that suggested he was treading very carefully, ‘it’s not your job to fix that. Could be it never was.’

I made myself wait before speaking. Drew a breath or two. ‘If everyone took that attitude,’ I said, ‘scum like him would rule the world. If we don’t stand up for what’s right, we’re no better than he is.’