Please attend court immediately, as arrangements must now be made in some haste. In particular, a response to Lord Cadhan’s message must be despatched within a day, and as you have proved stubborn on other aspects of this marriage, I want us to be in complete agreement as to that message’s content. I will expect you tomorrow.

My father’s signature sprawled across the page above his scribe’s neat rendering of his name: Ruairi, King of Dalriada. King first, father second, always. One day I would be king. And Flidais would be my queen. If we had children, I hoped I would make time to listen to their hopes and fears, share with them my love of poetry, teach them the secret ways of wild creatures, let them follow their dreams. But perhaps, when I became king, all those things would be lost to me. Perhaps, the moment I donned the crown, I would cease to be the man Flidais had agreed to wed and turn into a younger version of my father.

A tap at the door, and Donagan let himself in.

‘Something wrong?’ my body servant asked.

‘Not exactly. Here.’ I passed him the letter. Donagan was no ordinary serving man. He had been with me as companion and attendant since we were twelve years old. His father was one of my father’s councillors; his mother was one of my mother’s personal attendants. We had shared an education, both in book learning and in sports and games; we had done everything together. I trusted him more than anyone.

I could not seem to gather my scattered thoughts. While he stood there reading, I paced the bedchamber, picking up small objects and setting them down, folding my arms and unfolding them. I thought of Flidais in peril, Flidais undertaking a long journey on which she might at any time be attacked by her father’s enemies, Flidais coming here under circumstances more likely to make her tearful than joyful. What woman would want to be betrothed without her parents present at the ritual? What woman wanted to be sent off to her marriage in fear and haste? Could our letters, tender and honest as they were, really be sufficient to make up for my failure to visit her, to meet her in the flesh and talk to her before she left home?