The wood had a restless feeling about it, as if unseen things were moving about in there. Maybe just the autumn wind; maybe creatures looking for shelter from the coming storm. Maybe Conmael and his kind moving between the leafless trees, hardly more visible than shadows. Grim didn’t trust the place; never wanted to stay in there long. Dreamer’s Wood didn’t bother me. Perhaps that was down to Conmael, who seemed keen that I should survive. Maybe, if I followed his rules, I’d stay safe. For seven years, at least. Which was better, to break free of the promise, to be my own mistress for as long as it took for me to destroy myself, which mightn’t be long at all, or to abide by the rules and live the next seven years – a bit less, now – doing what somebody else wanted? Was that really living, or was it being a coward?

16 Oran

16

~ORAN~

The day I gave her the book, Flidais was so quiet at supper that I thought the headache must be worse. When our guests spoke directly to her, she answered courteously enough but with as few words as possible. If this continued I would have to insist she seek expert help, however much she protested that she did not need it.

I did not tax her about the bestiary. The little book was probably safest in the library anyway, since the chamber was designed to keep such items in best condition, though the reading room I had made for Flidais would do equally well provided the door was not left open in wet weather.

After supper we mingled in the hall awhile before the fire. The druid had not yet arrived, but one of the lawmen had some talent as a storyteller. He was prevailed upon to entertain us with a tale – an amusing account of warring clurichauns – and I told one of my own invention, in which lovers were parted by fate, sought each other across all Erin, and found each other only when they were old and grey. The point of the tale being that true love never dies. Folk seemed to enjoy it, though Flidais had as little to say about my effort as about anything else. I drew the evening to a close somewhat early, telling my guests that as the next few days would be so busy, it was best if we all retired to sleep. I would see them at breakfast.

Donagan helped me undress, then bade me good night and retired to the anteroom where he slept. Bramble was down in the kitchen for the night; Brid had taken a fancy to her and provided a basket by the fire, which Donagan had said was a much more appropriate arrangement. I missed her.