“Father,” I said, “I don’t believe Finbar’s abduction has anything to do with the raid and the fire. The way it was carried out, the figure in the cradle, the impossible timing—it must be the work of the Fair Folk. Nobody else could have got him out so quickly or so invisibly.”

Another charged silence. “Clodagh,” said my father in that quiet tone that sent shivers down my spine, “I hope you were being honest with me earlier today when you admitted to being mistaken on this particular matter. I hope you are not about to tell me again that someone has left a living, breathing creature in my son’s place. You’ve already shocked and disappointed me today with your wayward disregard for common sense. Your negligence in the matter of Cathal has proven costly indeed.”

“I’m sorry, Father.” I held myself rigidly straight, clenching my jaw tight, but my lips trembled and my voice shook. “I’m truly sorry if those men died at Glencarnagh because of me. I’ve tried to do the right thing. That’s all I’ve ever tried to do.”

Father did not respond by so much as a nod. It seemed to me he was having as much difficulty holding himself together as I was. The old Clodagh, the girl I had been yesterday, would have put her arms around him and offered words of comfort. I stood very still, blinking back my tears. I would never be that girl again.

“I think we might allow Clodagh to leave us, Sean,” Johnny said. “We can call her back if we need her. We have some decisions to make quickly.” He took my arm and walked me to the door, which he opened for me. He said nothing more, but as I stepped out he put his hand on my shoulder for a moment, and when I glanced at him, he gave a little smile. I turned away abruptly, the tears starting to stream down my face, and heard the door shut behind me.