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Back Heir to Sevenwaters Save as PDF
Chapters (22)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Dedication
  4. Acknowledgements
  5. CHAPTER 1
  6. CHAPTER 2
  7. CHAPTER 3
  8. CHAPTER 4
  9. CHAPTER 5
  10. CHAPTER 6
  11. CHAPTER 7
  12. CHAPTER 8
  13. CHAPTER 9
  14. CHAPTER 10
  15. CHAPTER 11
  16. CHAPTER 12
  17. CHAPTER 13
  18. CHAPTER 14
  19. CHAPTER 15
  20. CHAPTER 16
  21. CHAPTER 17
  22. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

“Why would they want me to? They’ve got Finbar, haven’t they? They’ve got what they want.”

Sibeal regarded me, eyes solemn. “I don’t know, Clodagh. I’ve been asking myself that question since I realized you had rescued Becan. There’s something extremely odd about the way all this has happened. When I first heard that you thought he was a changeling I wondered if there was a charm over you to make you see differently from the rest of us. But maybe you’re the only one whose vision remains true—maybe the spell lies over everyone else, including me. Maybe you were meant to do this.”

It was hardly reassuring. “I can’t think of any reason why that should be, Sibeal.”

“Nor me,” my sister said, “but that doesn’t mean none exists. You’d better go now, Clodagh. I hope you bring him home safely. With luck, everyone will be too busy to notice you’re gone until much later in the day. I’ll do as we agreed—I’ll tell Uncle Conor first, and on his own. We’ll light a candle for you.”

“Thank you,” I said, and turned away. The tears came now, a river of them, blinding my eyes. As I walked off across the clearing, heading for the shadows beneath the oaks, I knew without needing to look that Sibeal was tying her offering onto the mossy branch of the ancient hawthorn and sending up a silent prayer for me.

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 8

I walked for most of the day without seeing anyone. I stayed off the paths, making myself wander into corners of the forest I usually thought best avoided: places where the trees grew densely, cutting off the sunlight, setting a deep shade on the forest floor beneath. Ferns were thick underfoot. Mosses made a spongy carpet and toadstools sprouted in grotesque clumps like miniature turreted villages. Where the ground rose, threads of water made their various ways over the rocks, trickling, pooling, leaping from tiny cliffs to cast droplets over the clinging greenery. I thought of warring clurichauns and started at each rustle in the leaves, each sudden cry of birds overhead. Despite what Sibeal had said about water, I stayed away from the lake, for on the shore I would be all too visible. If someone spotted me it wouldn’t take long for word to get back to Father. Once Sibeal told him I’d gone off on my own he would send men to find me. Likely he’d believe I had finally gone right out of my wits. I hoped Conor would listen to what Sibeal had to say. I thought he might. He knew she was wise beyond her years. Maybe they’d send for Ciarán. Maybe he’d counsel Father to trust me and to wait.