“Not exactly,” I said with a lump in my throat. “I have some friends, and some useful things that may help. But actually I was thinking you would come up with a plan for the next part. I was hoping that once I found you, you might have enough tricks and strategies to do the rest.”

Cathal looked at me gravely. “I see,” he said, and his mouth quirked into an uneven smile. I wondered if he knew me well enough to guess that this, too, was part of my plan. If he could not rescue me, if he could not lead our escape, he might never regain his self-respect. He needed to defeat his father; he must out-trick the Lord of the Oak. “I’d better think fast, then. Useful things. Such as?”

We were talking in whispers, for the two guards were doubtless still on duty outside. They would be the first obstacle.

“Such as this, to start with,” I said, taking the necklace out of my pouch. “Bend closer. I think it will work better if I put it on you.”

He did not bend but knelt before me, his arms around my waist. His dark eyes were steadfast, solemn. There was no trace of mischief there; perhaps his long lonely wait in the Otherworld had quenched that spark completely. “I love you more than life itself, Clodagh,” he said. “Whatever happens, I want you to know that. I hope I don’t regret this forever. Tonight’s missed opportunity, I mean.” His smile almost broke my heart.

“There will be other opportunities,” I said, tying the cord around his neck. When I was done, I let my hands rest there a moment. “Better ones. In more comfortable beds. I promise.”

He brought my hand to his lips. Then he stood up, and his face changed from that of a lover to that of a warrior. “Tell me first,” he said, “what power this charm has.” His fingers went to the necklace with its little white stone.

“The same as the green glass ring,” I said. “It’s a charm of selfless love; it protects you from harm.” I hesitated, a little embarrassed. “Actually, Ciarán said I’m your talisman; the necklace is extra. I think that means Mac Dara can’t hurt you if you’re with me. But he wouldn’t want to hurt you, anyway.”

Cathal’s smile was grim. “True. He has plans for me. Clodagh, the bird that screeched outside—is it one of these friends?”

I nodded. “He knows the way out. He’ll lead us.”

“Anything else I should know?”

My mind leapt from Willow’s last story to my discussion with Ciarán to what Mac Dara had revealed about the attack on Glencarnagh. There was no time. “Your mother,” I said, choosing the most important thing. “I heard a tale about her, a true tale. She didn’t kill herself, Cathal. She died trying to protect you from Mac Dara. She sent you away to keep you safe. And she . . .” I halted, seeing from his expression that this was not a surprise. “You know,” I whispered.