I make another brew, and we eat what food there is at the cottage, which isn’t much. Donagan’s brought some honey-cakes and cheese in his saddlebag, as well as the mead, so we finish those off as well, though Flidais and the prince don’t eat much. Too busy gazing into each other’s eyes and whispering in each other’s ears.

They’re supposed to be off to court in the morning, the prince, his lady and a bunch of other folk, and it’s getting late. Prince Oran asks Flidais if they should leave it a few days, put off the hand-fasting till she’s recovered, and she says no, best if everything goes to plan. That way nobody else needs to know what’s happened, ever. And they won’t be starting their marriage with all sorts of weird tales being whispered. As for Mhairi, Flidais tells her she’ll need time to work out what’s best, but she’s pleased Mhairi told the truth at the end, and for now she can stay provided she keeps her mouth shut and makes herself useful. The first way she makes herself useful is taking off her gown and tunic so Flidais can wear them on the ride back. Mhairi gets an old shirt of mine to put on over her shift, with a cloak on top. Blackthorn bundles up the lady’s wet things for Donagan to carry.

We stand at the door and watch them go. Moon’s high now, lights the path home for them. Donagan’s a good man. He’ll make sure they get there safe.

Blackthorn and me, we’ll stay here at the cottage now. Go over in the morning and pick up our bits and pieces from the prince’s place, borrow some supplies from Brid, maybe wave farewell if they’re not already gone. But no going back to stay there. Didn’t need to say so, either of us. Just knew.

The place is toasty warm. I bank up the fire, find a couple more blankets. Glad we got the repairs done. I sit on my pallet, reach down to take off my boots. Something growls and snaps, nearly taking my hand off. ‘Dagda’s bollocks!’

It’s the dog, Bramble. Or not Bramble, because this is Ciar. Maybe it’s fair, though it seems cruel. She kept quiet about the spell on Flidais, and now the same thing’s happened to her. Seems she doesn’t think much of being a dog, and plans to let everyone know it.

‘Thought they’d taken her with them,’ I say, lifting up my feet so I can get the boots off and keep my fingers. ‘Walk her over there in the morning, mm?’

The dog bolts out from under my bed, skitters across the room. Dives under Blackthorn’s bed, right to the back. Two eyes in the shadows. She whines.