‘Wife, hah!’ Under my breath I say to Ness, ‘You’re safe. Trust me.’ I look over and there’s Blackthorn looking back at me, not nodding or anything, but I know what she wants me to do. ‘There,’ I say, letting go of Ness, who staggers and collapses on the ground. ‘Now you let her go.’

‘One, two, three,’ mouths Blackthorn without a sound, and as I charge forward with a big roar bursting out of me, she throws herself backward, her head cracks into Branoc’s shoulder and he drops her with a curse. He bolts. I go after him, but he’s quick, and before I get to the end of the house he’s out of sight in the woods behind. And though I want to rip him apart with my bare hands for what he’s done to the girl, I stop running and come back. Blackthorn needs me here. Last bit of the plan, she can’t do on her own. Anyway, what matters is getting Ness to safety. And telling the story. The story Ness’s friend tried to tell, and nobody would believe.

22 Oran

22

~ORAN~

‘My lord?’

Aedan was at the door of my small council chamber, where I had been attempting to sort out a pile of neglected correspondence. I had no scribe at Winterfalls; up until now there had been no need for one. As the mistress of the house, Flidais should have been dealing with most of these letters – congratulations from distant family connections, invitations to hand-fastings or other celebrations, suggestions that she and I might visit one or another chieftain’s household. At present, her headaches prevented this. If she was not better soon, I would need to seek assistance elsewhere. I hardly liked to ask Donagan to do it. ‘What is it, Aedan?’

‘My lord, the wise woman, Blackthorn, is here, with that fellow Grim and a young woman from the village.’

‘Can’t you deal with them?’ Seeing the look on the face of my loyal steward, I set down my pen and stood up, realising as I did so how long I had been sitting hunched over the letters; my back and shoulders ached. ‘I’m sorry, Aedan. I know you would not have disturbed me without good cause. What do they want?’

‘The wise woman says it’s urgent, my lord, and she’s asked to see you in person. Something about Branoc the baker and a missing girl. And a murder at Silverlake.’

‘A murder! Very well, I’ll see them now. Bring them in here, will you? And call Donagan for me.’ Accusations of unlawful killing would be best heard before a witness, and Donagan was the most reliable witness I could think of. ‘And make sure there’s a man-at-arms out in the hallway, please.’

‘Yes, my lord.’