Sibeal stood further back, her midnight blue gown helping her fade into the shadows. It was not so much that Sibeal was shy. With the right person, Ciarán for instance, she conversed fluently on any number of erudite matters. Like me, Sibeal loved stories and music. But she had always been different. Her abilities as a seer made her ill at ease in the company of folk like Illann’s family and the visiting chieftains, who would expect her to have the interests and opinions of an ordinary girl of twelve. Conor wanted her to wait until she was at least fifteen before she committed herself to the druidic life. I was happy that Sibeal would not go away for a few years yet. She was mature beyond her years, at times quite startlingly so, and made a good confidante. With my twin gone, I would be glad of her presence.

Under instructions from Deirdre, folk were moving the furniture to make room for dancing. Gods, I was tired. No wonder I had fallen victim to my own imaginings out in the forest earlier; I’d probably been walking along half-asleep. There was a little door not far away leading to a set of stone steps that went up to the roof. In summertime that was a good retreat, with a broad view over the forest of Sevenwaters and only passing birds for company. I slipped through and shut the door behind me. All I needed was a few moments’ respite, and then I’d go back and smile for the guests.

It was not quite dark. A lamp had been placed on the bottom step and the sound of music floated down from above, a slow air I had played myself, though not so well as this. I followed the sound up to the first turn of the stair, where I found Aidan seated with harp on knee and a little frown on his brow. He was dressed up for the festivities in a tunic of dark blue wool with a snowy shirt beneath it, plain good trousers and well-polished boots. His hair was neatly tied with a ribbon at the nape. He looked, if anything, still more handsome than he had earlier. I recalled the way I had hurtled out of the forest like a screaming banshee, and felt quite awkward. It was a long time since Johnny’s last visit here, and I wondered if I had misremembered the degree of interest Aidan had shown in me then. When he saw me he put a hand across the strings and the tune came to an abrupt halt.

“Please don’t stop on my behalf,” I said. “It was lovely.”

Aidan made to stand, tucking the harp under an arm.

“Don’t get up, please. I’ll go if you want to be alone.” Gods, I sounded like a flustered thirteen year old.