The stillroom door opened. Light streamed forth. There stood a tall figure in a homespun robe, his auburn hair fiery in the lamp’s glow. Ciarán. In the time it took me to glance at him and to look back, the Lord of the Oak was gone. He had neither walked past me nor flown up in the air nor disappeared into a chink between the paving stones. He had simply vanished.

I breathed again. So close. Oh, gods, so close. And, after all, ten days was far too long.

Cathal appeared behind the druid. He took one look at me, brushed past Ciarán and strode across to me. “What is it? What’s happened?”

“He was here,” I managed, clutching onto him with shaking hands. “He was right here in the garden. I thought it was you, and then he looked at me and . . .”

“It’s all right now,” he murmured, drawing me close. “I’m here; I have you safe.”

Ciarán spoke from behind him. “I felt his presence,” said the druid. “Your father is strong; each day I am more astonished by your capacity to withstand his influence. And he is audacious. That he would come here, to the heart of Lord Sean’s own household . . .” He lowered his voice, glancing around the little garden before speaking again. “You were right,” he said. “The longer you remain here the greater the peril you risk bringing down on yourself and all the family at Sevenwaters.” He was looking at Cathal.

“I care little for my own peril, my lord,” Cathal said. “It is through Clodagh that my father will attempt to manipulate me. She and I must both leave Sevenwaters. We must retreat to Inis Eala without delay.”

“And yet,” said Ciarán, “if anyone is to stand up to the Lord of the Oak, it must be you. Would you leave both human folk and Otherworld dwellers defenseless against a prince who rules by cruelty and mischief? You have the capacity to end his influence forever, Cathal, if you would but use it.”

“No!” I said sharply. “It’s wrong to ask that of Cathal. You sound as if you think he should feel guilty about going away. And yet at the same time you point out how dangerous it would be for us to stay, dangerous for all the family at Sevenwaters, yourself included. He’s not doing this. We’re not doing it. What you suggest would mean putting our children at risk. It would mean sacrificing our whole future.”

There was a silence. Then Cathal said, “You heard Clodagh. To overthrow a tyrant is to create chaos, unless there is another ready to step into his place.”

Ciarán looked at him, mulberry eyes steady in the moonlight. He said nothing.

“I have chosen this world,” Cathal said. “I have chosen Clodagh. I will not do it.”