I fetched out my notebook and opened it at the page where I had copied Grim’s words. All fight on the outside, all goodness within. She walks her own path. ‘Come home,’ I whispered. ‘Come home in time. Please.’ Then, annoyed with my own foolishness, I wrapped the notebook in my red kerchief and added it to the bag. It would all have to be unpacked at the cottage and stowed again in the saddlebags. I hoped Ségán knew that I was not an expert rider and would get me a steady horse.

Cara was not at breakfast, which worried me a little, but I did not ask anyone if they had seen her. Instead I sat staring into my bowl – my stomach was churning with nerves and I ate little – then left as soon as I possibly could. The earlier I got over to Dreamer’s Wood, the readier I would be to leave when Grim arrived.

Cara hadn’t been the only one missing from the meal. Neither Oran nor Donagan had been present, though nobody had remarked on their absence. Gone at first light, probably, intending to stop for the night somewhere much closer to the final destination. There was no sign of Master Oisin. Could he also be part of this mission? I found myself hoping he would be at this hearing or council. His calm presence would be reassuring. It seemed to me some of the Island men were gone, too. No sign of Lonán or Art. Caolchú was also missing. They would be with the prince. Oran was taking a risk with this, whatever the nature of it might be. Playing outside the rules. Even with the High King’s blessing, that might turn perilous for him and for his father. I hoped they had not underestimated Mathuin.

Chapter Forty: Cara

40

~Cara~

The sky was a clear pale colour, not quite grey or green or blue, but holding something of each. Threads of mist wreathed the boles of the trees. The birds that had joined her as she walked up through the forest were quiet now. The crow flew from post to stump to low branch, keeping its bright eye on her all the way. The siskin rode on her left shoulder and the tiny wren perched on her head. The pricking of its little claws was somehow reassuring. Without the three of them perhaps she would have strayed again, been led off course and into that dark hole or another place like it. She’d been tempted to use the main track but could not risk it.