‘It seems hard,’ said Blackthorn. ‘It is hard. But we cannot leave things as they are. Lady Flidais is the innocent in all this; she is entirely without blame. If I’m wrong, then both you, Ciar, and the dog will emerge from the pool unchanged, if a little cold, and it will be up to the prince to decide what comes next. If I’m right, then . . .’

‘No!’ shrieked Ciar. ‘No! That can’t be Flidais, it’s only a dog!’

‘Then you have nothing to fear,’ said Blackthorn.

‘You can’t do this!’

‘Just watch us,’ said Blackthorn, her voice like iron. She stepped toward the drop, and my heart quailed. The water was so cold, and Bramble was so small.

‘Now, Grim,’ said Blackthorn.

He picked up the struggling Ciar as if she weighed no more than a babe, walked to the edge and, without a moment’s hesitation, cast her bodily over. There was a splash, and my heart clenched in shock. This was real. We were actually doing it. I, the prince of Dalriada, was here in the woods in the dark, a willing party to what might be an act of murder.

‘Oh gods, oh gods!’ muttered Mhairi.

And now Bramble, so tiny, so delicate, so trusting. I wanted this with all my heart, and yet I could not bear to see Blackthorn cast her in.

‘Don’t –’ I began.

Bramble wriggled, twisted, half-fell from Blackthorn’s arms. Like a streak of moonlight, she bolted toward the drop, leaped off and was gone.

‘Morrigan’s curse!’ murmured Donagan.

I strode toward the edge. Strong hands gripped my arms, holding me back – Donagan on one side, Grim on the other. I teetered on the brink, staring down as the cold light revealed only widening ripples on the dark water.

‘Down to the shore,’ said Blackthorn. For the first time, her voice was less than perfectly steady. ‘Quickly.’

We ran, tripping over tree roots and sliding on the carpet of damp leaves in the deceptive light. We ran all the way to the place where the waters of Dreamer’s Pool lapped a flat stretch of shore, the spot where someone had lain dead on the fateful day when Flidais first came to Winterfalls. We stood there, Blackthorn and Grim, Donagan, Mhairi and I, staring out over the water, waiting. Perhaps she cannot swim, I thought. Perhaps Bramble cannot swim. But I did not say it. None of us spoke a word.

Time passed. Too much time. Donagan moved to the water’s edge and started to take off his boots.

‘No,’ I said. ‘If anyone’s going in, it should be me.’

‘Wait,’ said Blackthorn. ‘All of you wait.’