‘But not tonight,’ said Blackthorn, ‘or Lady Flidais risks perishing from cold, not to speak of this dog. The spirit won’t require that, I’m quite sure of it. Let’s go and find that warm fire, and perhaps a jug of mulled ale.’ She bent to gather up Bramble. ‘Try to bite me,’ she said, ‘and I’ll set a curse on you. Fancy life as a slug or a beetle? I thought not. Grim, lead the way.’

40 Grim

40

~GRIM~

They talk and talk. I make a brew and another brew, and keep the fire burning high. Blackthorn takes Lady Flidais to the lean-to to remove her wet clothes, and the lady sits by the hearth with my blanket wrapped around her, over the prince’s cloak. Her and Prince Oran, they’ve only got eyes for each other, though they thank us, and they thank Donagan, and they listen while Mhairi fills in some parts of the story that haven’t come out yet. For instance, how Ciar had thought that if she was with child, the prince would still wed her even if he found out the truth. How she’d slipped into his bed a couple of times, trying to make this happen, until Lady Sochla came and she’d had to stop.

When Mhairi says this, the prince is ashamed. Scarlet in the face, can’t look at Flidais. But she says, quite sweetly, ‘I know, Oran. I saw and heard a great deal during that time; I understood it in ways a dog could not.’

Because yes, she’s been Bramble, or Bramble’s been her, all this time. Three-way switch, like Blackthorn thought. The one who drowned that day wasn’t Ciar and it wasn’t Flidais. It was the dog. Lady Flidais, the real one, is sad about this, says she loved Bramble dearly, and if she hadn’t taken it into her head to go swimming that day, Bramble would still be here. Prince Oran tells her he knows Bramble can never be replaced. But when she’s ready he would love to help her choose another little dog. Maybe a pair of them.

Bit shy with each other, those two. Must be odd for them. He’s lain with Ciar, only she was in Flidais’s body. And the dog, that is, Flidais, has heard Ciar bragging about it to Mhairi. But the lady, the way she is now, hasn’t lain with any man. She’s the high-born, untouched bride of a future king. Could be awkward, you’d think. But a blind man could see they’re fond of each other. And though Lady Flidais is a quiet, courteous sort of girl, she’s not afraid to speak up for herself, that’s plain. Could be the two of them will do all right.