‘Then tell us what is true,’ I said. ‘Perhaps Mistress Blackthorn has it wrong. If that is so, you should have no trouble agreeing to put it to the test.’

‘Put . . . what do you mean?’

‘There’s an old story about Dreamer’s Pool,’ Blackthorn said. ‘I heard it from the travelling folk not long ago.’ She told the tale she’d shared with me when first telling me of her plan, a story about a pair of brothers and a prize boar. ‘So, you see, we know how to reverse the charm,’ she added at the end. ‘It should be easy.’

‘No! You can’t do that!’ Ciar was struggling now; I had her by both arms, but fear can give a person strength, and I was hard put to hold her.

‘Let me, my lord.’ Here was Grim, walking in from the other side, closing his great arms around Ciar. Perhaps realising how futile it would be to fight against such a giant, she became still, save for her hard breathing.

‘Tell us your story, Ciar.’ Blackthorn’s tone was level, but the look on her face would have struck fear into anyone. ‘Do as Mhairi suggested; she, at least, has the wisdom to know this pretence can go on no longer. If the prince himself knows you are not Flidais, then how can you continue with it?’ After a moment she added, ‘It must have been frightening for you, that day. It must have seemed impossible, unbelievable. And yet there you were.’

‘You can’t prove anything,’ Ciar snapped. ‘Try telling that story and folk would only laugh at you. Look at me, I AM Lady Flidais! Nobody would believe you!’

Donagan and Mhairi had moved in closer. All of us were on the sward, above the waters of Dreamer’s Pool. If Ciar was strung tight, so was I. I could hardly believe we would go ahead with what Blackthorn had planned. It felt something akin to committing murder. Even as the longing to have my Flidais back filled my heart, the knowledge of what must come lay like a cold stone in my belly.

‘We don’t plan to tell the story,’ Blackthorn said calmly. ‘If we do as the man in the tale did, with his brother and the boar, there will be no need for anyone else to know.’

‘You can’t make Ciar go into the pool again.’ Mhairi’s voice was hushed with horror. ‘It’s not like the man and the boar. Flidais is dead, drowned. There’s no changing back.’

I made to speak, but Blackthorn gave a little shake of her head.

‘We have a plan,’ she said. ‘But we want Ciar’s story first. Whatever happens, whatever we do, it should be based on truth. There’s a powerful magic here. Only a fool mixes lies and magic. Ciar, tell us. What happened that day?’