I longed to give Flidais my personal gift. But by the time we reached the house, her headache had returned.

‘I’m so sorry, Oran. I need to rest awhile. I have enjoyed this morning; I look forward to riding out with you when Apple is ready.’ She laid her hand on my arm and favoured me with a smile.

‘Rest well, my dear,’ I said, and risked a formal kiss on her cheek. ‘Perhaps before supper, for the library.’

‘Perhaps.’ She turned away, and her maidservants ushered her indoors.

I was disappointed. But there was plenty to occupy my time. Our guests were starting to ride in: chieftains from Dalriada and Tirconnell and Ulaid, landholders and lawmen and their wives. And, of course, their guards and attendants. All would be accommodated in my household until some days after the betrothal ceremony, as Winterfalls was a considerable ride from any other major establishment. In the absence of Flidais, I greeted the new arrivals with Donagan by my side, and Aedan’s helpers shepherded them away to their various quarters. We had sufficient private apartments to house the chieftains and their wives; others went to the men’s or women’s quarters, which we’d expanded considerably in preparation for Flidais’s arrival. Some of my people had vacated their cottages to make room for visitors, and if needed, we’d use the grooms’ quarters out by the stables for any overflow.

By the time everyone was settled, the afternoon was almost over. Donagan more or less ordered me to go to the library and sit down awhile before the guests emerged again, rested and ready for supper.

Library was perhaps too grand a name for the chamber where I kept my treasured collection of books and manuscripts. The room opened off my council chamber. It had deep storage shelves, an oak table and a number of carefully shielded lamps. Tapestries softened the walls; the floor was of slate. Few other folk came here. In my library I could lose myself in the world of a book, or simply sit and dream. When the weather was too inclement to allow a walk or a ride, I would retire here and let the beauty of words and illuminations fill my mind.

Donagan had left me, but now he returned with a flask of mead, two goblets and some little cakes on a tray.

‘Thank you, my friend. It’s been a long day for you, too.’

He poured the mead; only one goblet.

‘What about you?’ I asked.

‘Oran . . . I took the liberty of sending a message to Lady Flidais. I suggested you would like her to come here, now. I know how much you want to give her the book, and I understand you’ll prefer to do so in private. With more and more folk arriving, that’s likely to prove ever more difficult. I can stay outside the door.’