“She said the Lord of the Oak was the same person as Mac Dara. You know, the Otherworld prince from the old tales, the one who was always scheming and plotting and trying to get more power for himself. A great battle leader, but quite devoid of any sense of right and wrong.”

“Uh-huh. Take a deep breath, Clodagh.” A sharp pain. A moment later, shocking in its sweetness, the touch of his lips on the palm of my hand, where the hurt had been. My eyes flew open, but he had already released his hold and was turning away. “Best let me put some salve on that. I’ll tend to your cuts at the same time. I should have done it earlier.”

“You’ve hardly had any sleep—”

“When I did fall asleep I nearly lost you.”

“I said I was sorry.” I felt my shoulders droop. “I should have known this was too easy: the safe place, all our things provided for us, time to think, to reflect . . . But why would those people bring Finbar and then take him away? Weren’t they the Tuatha De? They’re Mac Dara’s folk; if I’m supposed to present a case to him tomorrow, why would they do this? That woman, she was . . .” A shiver ran through me. “I thought she was a friend, but the way she spoke . . . she seemed angry.”

“I cannot tell you who they were,” said Cathal. “But I believe their sole intention was to lure you outside the hedge on your own. To draw you away from my protection, Clodagh.”

“If that’s true, I’ve been stupid. Dog Mask said it was dangerous to go outside the hedge, and still I would have done it.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Cathal said, sitting down again with a pot of salve. “We’ve both made mistakes. It’s human to do so. Believe me, I have no great certainty that my choices are right. Let me tend to your face, Clodagh. Look at me.”