We ran, and I reminded myself that the man I loved was only half human, and that if we managed to escape this place I would probably discover far more remarkable things about him than an ability to see in the dark.

Fiacha did not seem to be leading us back to the portal through which he and I had entered Mac Dara’s realm, though I imagined that was the nearest. We splashed through a shallow stream, climbed a steep hill under beeches, crawled through a mess of prickle bushes—the crow flew over the top—and emerged, trying not to curse aloud, in front of another rock wall. From somewhere higher up, Fiacha cried out in his harsh voice. As soon as I stopped moving my legs began to shake. My breath was coming in gasps.

“It looks as if we’re supposed to climb,” Cathal said. “I’ll help you, Clodagh. From up there we may get a useful view.”

The unspoken message was clear: sooner or later Mac Dara must notice that we were gone and come after us. The more ground we covered before then, the better our chances. I clenched my teeth, found hand and footholds in the rock and hauled myself up.

On my own I couldn’t have done it. Ignoring Fiacha’s impatient cries, Cathal climbed close by me, helping me find my grip, murmuring advice and encouragement, keeping calm even though I was so painfully slow. We were almost at the top when the tone of the crow’s call changed and so did the light. Below us in the forest torches flared, and in the air above us there was a creaking sound, as of leathery wings, and a harsh cry that set terror in me. That call took me back to the raft and those things that had dived and slashed me. My eyes screwed themselves shut. My hand slipped and I clutched wildly at the rock face.

“Here.” Cathal’s hand came over mine, directing my fingers to a chink. “Grab hold and pull yourself up; there’s a foothold to the right. Ignore those things. The crow will see them off. You’re about two arm’s lengths from the top, Clodagh. You can do it.”

“Torches,” I muttered as I pulled myself up. “Down there.”

“One more stretch . . . Cursed creature!” Cathal swiped at a diving form with one hand while clinging on with the other. “That’s it, Clodagh. Lift your left foot about three hand spans and slightly to the left. Good. You should be able to grip the foliage at the top now, but don’t put all your weight on it . . . Good girl, you’ve done it.” He boosted me over the edge, where I sprawled in a heap. A battle was raging in the air above me, a screeching, creaking, flapping combat. It seemed unwise to look up. I heard Cathal hauling himself over the edge, and a moment later the noises ceased. As I sat up, a black feather floated down onto my lap.