Brighid save us. Perhaps he’d forgotten that I couldn’t swim. I stood, wobbling. I held Becan tightly with my right arm and put my left hand in Cathal’s. His grip was warm and strong.

“I’ll look after you,” Cathal said. “You’ll be fine and so will Becan. Shut your eyes if it helps.”

“No, I . . . Oh, gods, Cathal, I don’t think I can do this . . .”

“You can do it, Clodagh. Take a few deep breaths. It’ll be over before you know it.” He was as pale as linen. Perhaps, despite his apparent confidence, his stomach was roiling with terror just as mine was.

“You will keep hold, won’t you?” I might land safely, but if he let go of me I would drown and so would Becan.

“I will,” he said. “You know, there were a lot of logical reasons for staying up at the top. But logic doesn’t seem to be playing much of a part in my decisions any more. And just in case . . .” He bent his head and kissed me. It was like the last time, only not like it. The touch of his lips on mine thrilled through my body as it had then. The fact that we were perilously balanced and about to make a suicidal leap made no difference. But this kiss had a promise in it, and a farewell, and regret, and trust, and all manner of secrets that might be uncovered if only there were more time. We drew apart, and it seemed to me his breathing was as unsteady as mine, but his grip on my hand stayed firm.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yes,” I lied.

“On the count of three, then. One . . . two . . . three . . .”

And away down. Down, down. His hold on me the only anchor to reality. Becan’s screams snatched away by the speed of our flight, dissipating in the air as we hurtled through it. The cliff a blur of gray, brown, blue, black. A glimpse of Cathal’s face, ashen white, his eyes huge and shadowed, his dark hair flying up from his brow. His cloak, catching the wind, billowing out to reveal the treasury within. The green glass ring glinting, though there was no sun in the sky. My heart drumming in my breast, sounding a litany of regret. If I die now, I’ll never get to know him properly. If I die now, I’ll never have children of my own. If I die now, I’ll have failed everyone . . .