He turned a certain gaze on me. It was the kind of look he might have used on a rival chieftain daring to challenge his authority. My father had never, ever looked at me that way before.

“You’re overwrought,” he said. “I hear nothing. That is no changeling. It is nothing but a cruel trick.”

“But—” The cries were ear-piercing. Why couldn’t he hear?

“I won’t hear any more of this, Clodagh. Take a few deep breaths and compose yourself.” Father’s tone was sufficient to silence further protests. “This chamber is to remain locked. You’ll keep the key on your person. Nobody’s to come in or out. I’ll call the household together later, when Johnny reports back. Are you sure”—his voice cracked—“are you quite sure you saw nobody else up here? No serving folk, no man-at-arms, nobody?”

“Eithne came out of Mother’s chamber while I was in the doorway, and Cathal was up here for a few moments, but there was nobody else.”

“Your mother must be told.” His voice was almost detached now, as if he were putting his own grief and shock away inside somewhere in order to act as a chieftain must. “I don’t suppose there’s any point in delaying it. Come, Clodagh.”

The changeling’s throaty cries lanced through me as I followed my father into the hallway. The sound made my chest hurt. Father waited while I locked the door on the creature. Then we went to break my mother’s heart.

Some time later, I stood before my father in the small council chamber, my stomach tying itself into knots of grief and anxiety. Finbar had not been found in the house, or in the courtyard or outbuildings, or anywhere nearby in the forest. There were no marks of feet or hooves or wheels; whoever had taken the baby had left no trail to follow. Johnny was organizing a wide search, using every man-at-arms who could be spared.

I should have been out there calming the children and making sure the ordinary business of the household continued despite the crisis. But my usual duties seemed to have been taken out of my hands as if, now that I had allowed my brother to be kidnapped, I could no longer be trusted with anything at all. To make matters worse, Father had Aidan in the chamber with us, presumably as a guard. What did he imagine, that his own daughter was somehow a danger to him now? His eyes, fixed on me, were bleak and distant. In his head, I thought, there must be endlessly playing the same sound that filled my own thoughts: my mother’s wrenching wail when we told her. Afterward, her face had seemed little and shrunken, like that of a dead creature.