Art had stuck my knife in his belt. Caolchú was putting a leading rein on the mare. Short of leaping off and attempting to outrun two fit warriors, I had few choices. It was one of those moments when I’d have welcomed a sudden appearance by Conmael, who doubtless had the ability to turn men into toads whenever he liked. Unfortunately my small facility in hearth magic did not stretch so far.

‘We mean you no harm, Mistress Blackthorn. Please believe that.’ Caolchú checked the leading rein, then mounted his own horse. ‘Our purpose is to make sure you get back to Winterfalls safely, no more, I promise. When we get there Ségán will talk to you. The matter is confidential. I cannot discuss it here.’

‘I’m not talking to anyone without a witness. Someone impartial.’ Why would they think I needed an escort to get home safely? Why bother riding out in the rain when they could simply have waited until I reached Winterfalls? This made no sense.

‘It’s not for me to say yes or no to that. You can ask Ségán.’ He pulled his hood up. If anything the rain was getting heavier. Both of us were shouting to be heard above it. ‘We’ll move on now. He wants us back as soon as possible.’ A pause, then, ‘You’re safe with us, Mistress Blackthorn. You have my word on that. And the word of an Island man is always good.’

Ségán was waiting in the library. I stepped through the doorway, my clothing dripping onto Fíona’s immaculate floor, and saw in an instant what was on the table before him. My notes. My precious, secret testament. Cara had told him. She had seen where I’d hidden them, and she had betrayed me.

‘Sit down, Mistress Blackthorn.’ The hawk-like features were calm; the tone was even. He motioned to the bench opposite his. ‘Caolchú, you might have allowed Mistress Blackthorn to change her wet clothing first. Take her cloak, please, and send someone to fetch a warm shawl.’

Caolchú left; the door closed behind him. Which left four people in the library: Ségán seated at the table, and me, and two other men – Cúan and Earc – standing at a slight distance. They appeared to be on guard.

‘Do sit down,’ Ségán said again. ‘You’ve had a long ride.’

‘I want a witness,’ I said, not moving. ‘Someone impartial. Aedan. Or one of Prince Oran’s men-at-arms.’