Gareth opened the door for me. Within the small chamber was a formidable group of men—with my father were his druid uncle Conor, Johnny and Cathal. Conor was seated, a tranquil figure in his white robe. Father stood with arms folded. Johnny was by the narrow window, staring out across the courtyard below. Cathal was extremely still, arms by his sides, shoulders square, head held high. He was facing Father, his back to the door. The sight of him made my heart leap. Had we really been parted only one morning? It felt like an age.

“I’m here,” I said, walking in with Gareth behind me. Cathal’s whole body tensed as he heard my voice, and for a moment I was back in that little cell, seeing him for the first time after Mac Dara took him. I moved to stand beside him and slipped my arm through his. He let out his breath in a rush. I rested my head briefly against his shoulder.

Behind us, Gareth went out and shut the door.

“Welcome, Daughter,” said Father coolly. “Cathal has given us an account of his vision concerning Glencarnagh, and has explained his reasons for sharing it with you. That episode caused us considerable difficulty; I can only be grateful that we seem to have the truth now. I thank the gods that this did not develop beyond a war of words. What we require now is some clarification from you. Can you tell us exactly what Mac Dara said to you on the issue?”

I didn’t even want to think about Mac Dara. What I had seen—or thought I had seen—by the stables had unnerved me. I cleared my throat, and explained that Mac Dara had openly admitted causing the raid and the fire, and that he must have manipulated Cathal’s vision to implicate Illann in the attack. “The only thing he wanted was to get Cathal across into the Otherworld,” I said. “He anticipated that Cathal would warn me. He stole Finbar in circumstances that would place suspicion on Cathal; he knew I’d feel obliged to go after my brother. He made sure I was the only one who recognized Becan as a real baby. Mac Dara knew Cathal would insist on coming with me. He used love as a weapon; my love of my family and Cathal’s love for me. He wouldn’t have thought twice about what this might mean for anyone else, Illann, for instance, or you and Mother. The Fair Folk don’t understand love, not the way we do. They think of everything in terms of power.”

Father made no comment. Instead, he looked at Conor.

“This is entirely consistent with my knowledge of the Tuatha De,” the druid said.

“And yet,” said Father, frowning, “the Fair Folk have long been friends of the Sevenwaters family. Why would they suddenly turn against us, wreaking such havoc without a thought?”

“I hope you do not doubt Clodagh’s word.” Cathal’s voice was quiet, precise and dangerous. “My lord.”