I was chill to the core of my bones. Thank all the gods Cathal had not come here with me; thank every power there was that he’d had the sense to stay back out of sight. How could I have forgotten the rhyme? How could I have been so stupid? Set your foot inside the door, you’ll be mine forever more. With those words, Albha had sought to enmesh the daughter who had fled the Otherworld to live a life as her own woman. Whether she had succeeded in the long-term, I did not know—I had missed the end of that story. All I knew was that Cathal must not come in here. I must not let him step inside the pavilion. If he did so he could never, ever go home again.

“Well?” The Lord of the Oak was sounding displeased now. “Where is my son? He is the price you must pay for Lord Sean’s heir. There is a pleasing symmetry in the arrangement. You’ll appreciate that, I’m sure. I’m a virile man, Clodagh. I’ve sired more than my share of children over the years. I have something in common with your father, Lord Sean of Sevenwaters. Each of us has an abundance of daughters. So many daughters, and only one son.”

My mind was racing. I had to get Finbar and escape from here before Cathal revealed himself. I had to find the Old Ones and hope they could get us home. But Mac Dara wouldn’t let me go until he had what he wanted. His eyes were full of implacable purpose. Those guards with their spears would be nothing beside his wrath if I tried to escape without fulfilling my side of the bargain. Maybe I could stall awhile, keep talking while I worked out what to do. “His mother drowned herself,” I said. “Did you know that?”

“I did hear something along those lines,” said the Lord of the Oak, folding his arms and regarding me through narrowed eyes. “A waste. She should have found a new man, a farmer, a fisherman, someone of her own kind. As you will do—oh, not the farmer, I expect, but a young man from your father’s list, someone who will provide a suitable territorial advantage. You can’t have my son. He’s destined for greater things.”

“It is sad,” I said, “that you cannot allow him to make up his own mind. If you wanted me to turn my back on him and marry my father’s choice, perhaps you shouldn’t have loosed the arrow that killed Aidan of Whiteshore. As well as being a suitor of mine, he was your son’s dearest friend.”

“You’re beginning to try my patience just a little. These matters do not interest me. Take your father’s son home and he will owe you such a debt that you may marry any man you choose.”