“There’s nothing more to tell. I went through it all before.” As I spoke I remembered reprimanding Cathal after that kiss, and the way he had turned, his cloak swirling out behind him. Another memory stirred, oddly: Willow and her clurichauns. The red and the green; the telltale color. “His cloak,” I said, an odd feeling coming over me. “Have you noticed all the little things he has sewn into the lining? I saw that for the first time and . . . well, it seemed strange.” Something made of green glass. Green: the mark of a traitor. I shivered.

“A source of ongoing amusement at Inis Eala,” Aidan said. “Another of my friend’s eccentricities. Most of the men do have a rowan cross sewn into their clothing, but Cathal carries a lifetime of memories in that well-worn garment. There’s a white pebble there from a time when the two of us were four or five and spent a memorable morning learning how to skip stones across a pond. A feather found on the shore one summer; a strip of leather from a dog’s collar. A length of wool from a garment Cathal wore as an infant. A trinket his mother gave him.”

This sounded harmless, if eccentric. Indeed, it cast a whole new light on Cathal. He had gathered up remnants of good times, of friendship, love, recognition. He had wrapped them around him to strengthen him in the times of loneliness, which had perhaps filled far more of his life than those rare moments of warmth or joy. I’d be foolish to leap to conclusions on the basis of a light-hearted story. On the other hand, Father did have good reason for suspicion; there was no getting past the fact that Cathal had outlined the attack on Glencarnagh to me in altogether too much detail for the thing to be coincidence.

“Clodagh, I must go,” Aidan said, still holding my hands. “I don’t like seeing you so sad and worried. I’m sorry this has caused trouble between you and your father. I wish things were different.”

“Me, too,” I said, thinking of Becan hidden upstairs and the decisions that lay before me. “You’re a good man, Aidan. This is very hard for you. Johnny’s right, you know. If Cathal is innocent, nothing bad will happen to him. My father may be distressed and angry right now, but he is a just man.”

Aidan said nothing more. I wanted to offer him a farewell embrace, a kiss on the cheek, something that would let him know I recognized the whirl of emotions he was feeling. But it seemed to me that he was fighting to keep control of himself, and that if I made such a gesture he might lose that control in a way he would find shaming. “Ride safely, Aidan,” I said, and withdrew my hands from his. I watched as he made his way out.