“I don’t believe you.” I kept my voice level, holding his gaze. “If that were true you’d be happy to answer questions about your past, because you wouldn’t care about it. A man who doesn’t care doesn’t carry his memories around with him everywhere like charms of protection.”

“Charms,” he said flatly. “The way other men carry rowan crosses, you mean. You know I don’t believe in such things.”

“And you don’t believe in the Otherworld, isn’t that right?” I gazed at him across the fire. “You’ll have to do better than that, Cathal. I’m happy that you no longer think me a shallow, domesticated creature. If it’s of any interest to you, I’ve had cause to revise my opinion of you too. If that weren’t so, I wouldn’t dream of asking you about this. Actually, I thought mine was a fairly safe question. There are others that would be far more challenging.”

“Such as?” His expression dared me to speak and face his scorn.

I drew a deep breath. “I could ask who your father was,” I said. I recalled the way Aidan had tried to convince my father that Cathal was no traitor, as if it were desperately important to him. I remembered how kind Cathal had been to Aidan that morning in the stables, when I’d overheard their private conversation. I thought of the taunts they’d exchanged as they battled it out on the practice ground. I had a theory about Cathal’s parentage, one that I could not tell him. Two boys raised together, as close as brothers; the exceptional generosity shown by a chieftain to a low-born local lad; a mother who would not reveal the name of the man who had fathered her son . . .

“But you won’t,” he said. Whether it was a statement or a warning I could not tell.

“It wouldn’t be appropriate,” I said. “Though I have wondered if that is the key to your unhappiness, Cathal. I suppose if you decide to trust me as a friend, some day perhaps you’ll tell me of your own free will.”

“As far as you’re concerned, I have no father,” Cathal said shortly. “You were unhappy that Lord Sean didn’t believe your story about the changeling, that he seemed to have stopped trusting you. That will pass. I predict with complete confidence that when you arrive back home your father will throw his arms around you and thank the gods for your safe return, whether or not you succeed in finding your brother. And then he will apologize and admit that he misjudged you. Be glad that you have such a father, Clodagh. He may seem hard to you at times, but he is the best of men.”

“I know that,” I said, my throat tight. “This isn’t fair, Cathal. We weren’t talking about me.”