Chapters (51)
- Cover
- About Dreamer's Pool
- Title page
- Contents
- Dedication
- Character List
- 1 Blackthorn
- 2 Grim
- 3 Oran
- 4 Blackthorn
- 5 Grim
- 6 Oran
- 7 Blackthorn
- 8 Grim
- 9 Oran
- 10 Blackthorn
- 11 Grim
- 12 Oran
- 13 Blackthorn
- 14 Oran
- 15 Blackthorn
- 16 Oran
- 17 Blackthorn
- 18 Grim
- 19 Oran
- 20 Blackthorn
- 21 Grim
- 22 Oran
- 23 Grim
- 24 Blackthorn
- 25 Oran
- 26 Grim
- 27 Blackthorn
- 28 Grim
- 29 Oran
- 30 Blackthorn
- 31 Grim
- 32 Blackthorn
- 33 Oran
- 34 Grim
- 35 Blackthorn
- 36 Grim
- 37 Oran
- 38 Blackthorn
- 39 Oran
- 40 Grim
- 41 Blackthorn
- Acknowledgments
- About Juliet Marillier
- Also by Juliet Marillier
- Copyright page
Close by us sat a group of well-dressed women, and among them I recognised some faces from that day at Dreamer’s Wood, when the maid had drowned. Two of these had been among Lady Flidais’s attendants who had come with her to my cottage: the kindly spoken one with dark hair, who nodded and smiled at me now, and beside her the grey-haired one. And there was the little dog that had bitten its mistress’s hand. Not with Lady Flidais now, but curled up on the knee of a formidable-looking older woman in a fur-trimmed cape. This personage subjected me to a thorough scrutiny; I met her gaze with as much calm as I could summon. I wanted to go home. Not to Fraoch’s, but to the cottage as it had been before the fire. Or, failing that, out into the woods to wander again. In this grand establishment I was like a crow among songbirds, shut in, out of place, dangerous.
There was a long table set crosswise on the dais, with a bench behind it. Donagan motioned to a serving man, who opened a door to one side. No trumpet fanfare, no bowing and scraping. Only a fellow with a loud voice, walking in and calling out, ‘Prince Oran of Dalriada, and Lady Flidais!’
Everyone stood up, so we did too, and Prince Oran and his modest entourage came in to take their places at the table. The official party consisted of the prince, the lady, who was clad in a flowing garment of soft blue with her hair covered by a veil, two men in long robes, and a stocky fellow of middle years, wearing a tunic that matched those of the prince’s guards, deep green with an oak tree embroidered on the breast. Donagan placed himself at the far end of the table. An attendant trailed Lady Flidais: the tall waiting woman from that day at Dreamer’s Wood. She stood behind her mistress. More guards had entered with them, but not as many as I would have expected. If I had things right, Oran was primary heir to the Dalriadan throne. It surprised me that he was prepared to let a crowd of folk like us come so close. I could have picked him off with a well-thrown knife before any of those guards could stop me.