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
The letters were a different matter, since Flidais had not written to me until she had received the first of my own missives. It was possible they had been crafted especially to please me. A skilful scribe might have conjured them from the excess of tender feelings I had been all too ready to pour out onto the page. But there had been that last missive, sent from a different household, with a different scribe. Besides, there was such poetic truth in the letters that they were hard to disbelieve. Or had been, before I consigned them to the fire.
The clouds parted to reveal the full moon, pale and perfect in the darkening sky. A shiver went through me, far deeper than simple cold. At such a moment, sitting by the graves of the departed, I found it easy to believe in spirits, in ghosts, in the magical and wondrous. It was easy to become, again, the man who had set such trust in ancient tales of love. I wish . . . I wish . . .
In my arms, Bramble stirred and the spell was broken. I got up and walked toward home. How dared I spend even a moment feeling sorry for myself? My misfortune was nothing alongside what had happened to young Ness. What sort of leader was I, to be so wrapped up in my own concerns? I remembered, somewhat to my shame, the time of waiting for Flidais to arrive. I had fussed about all manner of things. I could recall pressing Donagan on the matter of a woman’s confinement and what manner of assistance Flidais might prefer should we be blessed with a child. A child! The thought of her bearing my children, raising them and teaching them to think as she did made me feel sick. But she would. If I let matters take their natural course, she most certainly would.
I made my way down toward the house, cradling Bramble in my arms. Moonlight lay across the roof; lantern light shone out between the shutters. A pair of torches burned outside the entry. It must be close to supper time. I was glad the two lawmen had not yet departed; they and Aunt Sochla would be able to maintain a reasonable conversation while we ate.