Mac Dara raised his hand and pointed it in my direction. I did not hear him speak the words of a charm, but fire flared suddenly between me and the safety of the riverbank, scorching, deadly, and I shrank away from it, moving further out along the bridge. My knees buckled; I forced them to hold. Now I couldn’t even see the log bridge under the dark water. One more step and I’d be gone, swept away to oblivion. All for want of a handhold, or a shorter skirt, or a little more courage. Cathal, said a tiny voice inside me. I love you. I’m sorry.

Something hurtled toward me, arrow swift and dark as midnight. I ducked, screwing up my eyes in anticipation of attack. A sudden weight on my shoulder; claws digging in. As I straightened, a dangerous beak came around at eye level, holding a little item that glinted green in the moonlight. The ring. Fiacha had brought me the ring. And as I took it and slipped it on my finger, a familiar, beloved voice from further along the bank said, “Clodagh. Catch.”

He was here. Cathal was here. For one blissful moment I felt relief, then I saw Mac Dara’s hand outstretched toward me, and the flame bursting forth anew from his fingers. Cathal’s cloak passed through the fire on its way to me. My boots slid wildly on the log as I snatched at it. The crow winged up out of harm’s way, and somehow I got the garment around my shoulders, the hood over my head. You’ve got the ring. Cathal’s got his necklace. We’re at the portal. Don’t you dare lose your balance.

“Oh, take off the hood.” Mac Dara’s voice, a lazy drawl now. “Let’s see that flaming hair go up.” Fire on either side of me, swirling, scorching. I shrank back inside the cloak, heart thudding, and the eldritch flames sizzled into the river. “Fool!” spat Mac Dara, the mocking tone quite gone. He was not addressing me. “You would throw away the riches I lay before you for her? She’s nothing. No great beauty even by human standards, and a meddler besides. Persist in this and I’ll be obliged to show you just how disposable your little friend is.”

“Clodagh,” Cathal said. He was standing not far along the bank, looking perfectly calm. He had his eyes fixed on his father and did not spare me a glance. “Trust me.”