Cathal’s eyes met mine, and there was not the least trace of mockery in them. He turned on his heel, his cloak swirling around him, and I saw a curious sight: across the lining of his garment were scattered many small items, sewn there in the manner of charms placed for protection, as with the rowan cross of the clurichaun story. There was a cross in Cathal’s cloak, certainly. There was also a feather, a snippet of bright silken cloth and something made of green glass. There were more tiny trinkets, but I had no time to identify them, for in a heartbeat he was gone, shadow swift and completely silent. I caught a movement further along the hallway. My mother’s maid, Eithne, was standing there staring at us, a pile of folded cloths in her arms. She met my gaze, then scurried into Mother’s chamber. I was in no doubt that she had seen the whole interchange, kiss and all.

Now I was really crying, with no good reason for it. I retreated into the nursery chamber and shut the door, then sat down on the floor by the hearth with my arms around my knees. There was some comfort in the small glow of the fire. By the time Sibeal came I would be calm again if I worked at it. Chances were I would go downstairs later and find that Cathal had simply been playing games again. I should put him right out of my mind; I should not let him upset me so. Why on earth had he come up to see me? And what had that kiss been all about, that tender, frightening, completely inappropriate kiss? How dare Cathal sneak under my defenses at the same time as saying, more or less, goodbye forever? The thought that he was going away gave me a strange hollow feeling inside, and that was completely wrong. I should, as he had pointed out, be glad to see the back of him.

I sat there staring into the flames, breathing the faint scent of the herbs I had strewn earlier and trying to make sense of the utterly inscrutable. Cathal, Deirdre, Johnny, Father . . . There was too much to think about, and it was all too easy to give in to feeling sorry for myself. I should be happy Cathal was going. I should be pleased Aidan was staying. I must get a grip on myself.

Finbar stirred, making his basket creak, and I realized I had been lost in my thoughts for some while. It must be well past time for the baby’s next feed. I must take him in to Mother and hope she did not notice my red eyes. What if Eithne was there and had already mentioned she’d seen me behaving as if I didn’t know what decorum was?